A couple of people have asked me some questions in the comments of the last few postings, I’ll answer them all in tomorrows posting.

Yesterday was fairly busy, but the two remarkable jobs of the day were caused by what we in the trade call “Tricky extrication”.

The first job was to a young male collapsed in a bookmakers toilet.  I’ve been to a couple of these, and for some reason bookmakers toilets are favoured places for junkies to ‘shoot up’ in.  I’ve been to more junkies in bookmakers, than I have drunks in pub toilets.  Do not ask me why.

The toilet itself was 3 foot by 5 foot, and in it was a heavily drunken Lithuanian, covered in vomit, urine and the drink of champions – “White Lightning”, about three litres worth.  He was, for all intents, unconscious – unable to talk, stand, walk or do anything except drool.  And he drooled a lot.

Because of the size of the toilet (barely enough room for one person, let alone me as well), the slippery floor (vomit, urine, cheap nasty cider) and the state of the patient (big, thickset, heavy, completely unable to help) I had to grab him by his belt buckles, and with the aid of the crew man-handle him out to the ambulance.

I followed the crew to the hospital, so that I could wash some of the ‘stuff’ I had all over my arms, and the hospital knew the patient, because he had been there yesterday, for exactly the same thing…

The last job of the day was to a 45 stone male (285 Kg) with difficulty in breathing.  He was up one flight of stairs, found it very difficult to walk, and was in a flat full of cardboard boxes.  It took us an hour to get him out of the house, down the stairs and into the ambulance and at the hospital it took another half an hour to get him in.  Our trolley-bed (and these are the new trolley-beds, fairly strong things) was buckling under his weight, and there was a moment or two when I thought it would collapse under the weight.

It took so long to get him out of the house that I got an hours worth of overtime – which, for my mercenary nature, was rather nice.

11 thoughts on “45+”

  1. I had a call like that once. Difficulty breathing, but the patient exceeded the weight of our gurney (400 lbs). Fortunately, the city had a heavy lift ambulance and super-size gurney. Of course you can't just leave the patient there with some oxygen and a pat on the back, so we waited with her for the other ambulance. The whole time, this bedridden woman (her knees couldn't support her weight), was consuming a plate full (stacked like a pyramid) of sweet rolls. This takes a little work considering we had her on oxygen and she was slightly short of breath. Not something I will ever forget especially when I am considering that extra treat…..

  2. “…up one flight of stairs, found it very difficult to walk, and was in a flat full of cardboard boxes.”Heh, sounds like my place. But if I am correct in thinking a stone is about sixteen pounds, I weigh in at a puny 15 (235lbs avoirdupois).

    — John Anderson, USA


  3. I'll be the first to admit that I have more of a barrel than a six-pack, but 45 stone? He really is 3 times the man I am!

  4. Reminded me of this, as written by a certain EMT who used to post to alt.tasteless a few years ago…

    Did I mention that you're shooting blind through a few inches of fat into a vein that you can't see or feel?Actually, this is about the only fun part of the whole experience. You get to stick a few needles into this god-awful blob and hear her whimper. Good. Make her pay. 20 gauge needle? Nah, fuckit. We're going for the gold here. Grab that 16 and get to work. You are Queequeg. Show her your tattooed fury and take up your harpoons.

    I suppose you have to make light of it somehow!

  5. Careful now, if bob the boss from the scottish radio show is reading the bit about over time – he'd be blowing a gaskett.

  6. 45 STONE? Folllowing on from something someone (anonymous) said a few posts ago, he's more than 4 (!) times then man I am!I'll take a job as an EMT please, with a side order of hernia….

  7. 45 st, how do ppl get that big?! Im 8st 4 and im 30 weeks preg, dread to think how many times bigger he is than me…..

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