There is a problem with being sick off work when you are a 'work blogger' and that is that you will run out of interesting jobs to write about. You start looking at your shift pattern for the next couple of days hoping to eek out a few interesting posts before your seven day break. You might even consider overtime (if such a thing in the LAS existed at the moment) just in order to get some inspiration.
You also find that you have the urge to write about something, but about what you don't know. You are also aware that you don't want to dilute the 'brand' of your site with poems about puppies or some such.
The story of the crew who ended up getting a bit lost on a 30 mile journey (and I have no idea where Mascalls Park Hospital is either, so I may well have made the same mistake) made me think of the last transfer that I did. Our patient was 20 years old, she had taken alcohol, marijuana and 'unknown brown powder' with her boyfriend. She had then fallen asleep. A couple of hours later, still asleep, her flatmates moved her to bed. A couple of hours after that they realised that she wasn't waking up and called an ambulance.
I came on shift to be told about this job by my mate who I was taking over from. The hospital were running tests for everything, even seeking to rule out meningitis due to the patient's slight fever. Little did I know that later that evening I would be transferring her from our local to another London hospital.
The patient was intubated and we were accompanied by an anaesthetist, I've done transfers with her before and she's a good doctor to do transfers with, although she can get a little travel sick. So we packaged up the patient and headed towards the hospital. I knew where the hospital was, but I didn't know where the ward was located. I was driving and it is a good job that I knew where I was going as the GPS system sends you the wrong way – into a street that has no entrance to the hospital.
There is a problem, in that there are four or five buildings to this hospital and at night some of them are closed. So I went to where I normally go, but there were no signs with directions to the ward that I needed. I considered driving around, trying to look cool, while desperately searching for the ward but instead decided to call up Control and ask them.
Control called a local crew who gave me directions over the radio.
It's a good job I'm not a typical man who is afraid of asking for directions.
I remember thinking how sad it was that some brown powder, taken in the pursuit of happiness, could lay such a young person so low. A hell of a waste.
For something a little more fun, I'm on telly tomorrow. I was filmed some time ago for 'Imagine' and it goes on air at 10:35pm on Tuesday the 5th of December. You can follow this link to find out a bit more about the programme. I'm wondering if the bit with me in a revolving chair has been left on the cutting room floor.