Phew, back home from South Wales and so glad to be back in the safety of my home environment. Strange really as had to get away from this house as the last week or so has been so stressful and we needed to plant me somewhere where I could grow and avoid the then current stressors in my life. Just when you think it’s all ok, everything goes pear shaped. Or as a qualified Strategist I know that no plan survives first engagement with the enemy.
As you all know I believe in fate. Or as the Street Pastor said in Cardiff after the event, “it was the guiding hand of God”. That comes as no surprise as I do pray daily. We had planned to pop along to the cinema check out the film times and the then scurry away for a meal to return when the chosen film was due to begin. We wandered inside at the electronic listings, and we wandered outside to check out the posters and the paper time. This to-ing and fro-ing went on for a bit until we stuck on a choice between three Thrillers. I got my way and we opted for that one. Then wifey suggested that we caught the film straight away and went for the meal later. Now given wifey’s willingness to throw her two main choices by the wayside, and opt for one of three thrillers, agreeing to the early evening film was the least that I could do. So folks, we shouldn’t have been where we were, and we could have been walking out at any of the varying times each film ended.
So why on earth do I walk outside and turn right instead of left (where we normally turn) and end up saving the life on my 6th victim? This time it was a young girl lying on the ground surrounded by people; who wifey and I clocked simultaneously and I’m already moving away briskly as wifey shouts “go!”
My first and obvious question was to ask if an ambulance has been called, to which one of the bystanders asks “do you think that we need an ambulance?” I mean come on folks, young woman on ground, partly in gutter, hardly moving. You don’t actually call for a taxi do you? A few seconds later and I am engaging the Ambulance Trust in my first of three calls that evening. During the first, the operator answers but no one from the Ambulance Trust. Indeed the operator told me that he was trying another number and still no answer. I gave up and continued rendering first aid and wifey instead used her phone to dial 999 as well. Which was also met with no success when wifey handed her phone to me. The onlookers in a state of shock as the condition of the young woman deteriorated. None of them knew what to do. My third phone call was when the Ambulance Trust rang me back on my phone and I explained the circumstances and gave the address. As I stood to locate the street name a voice said, “no pulse, she’s stopped breathing”.
Wifey mentions that when the victims pulse stopped and her lips turned blue and she looked like death, I said "Oh shit, here we go" as I passed my phone to a bystander to finish the call with the Ambulance Trust. I heard the bystander say something like, “do you want assistance, they are saying do you need assistance?” but I was already rolling by then. The thing that struck me the most was that the young victim was the Spit of Resusci-Annie: her face and hair shape, body size, age, facial expression, and right down to the white neat teeth as the lips separated from the mouth. It was all extremely emotional for me, but also almost like being in the classroom. I don’t know if the violent jolt as I moved her briskly from the Recovery Position to the resuscitate position and tilted the head, or the finger scoop for debris inside her mouth where maybe the forcefulness of the action caught the roof of the mouth or the back of her throat and thereby prompted her brain to react, but whatever it was one eyelid moved as I withdrew my finger. I found the pulse before putting her back into the Recovery Position where she started to wretch without any vomit coming out. Maybe she was choking when originally in the Recovery Position and either the violence of the movement to resuscitate or the finger scoop dislodged debris. Or, equally credible is that the high level of intoxication meant that her systems had closed down and the movement and the scoop prompted them to restart. I can’t be certain for sure. But I do know that her best friend had thought that she had died in the street and was crying; but it wasn’t going to happen on my watch.
I’m upset while typing this Blog, but the story has to be told as others should learn First Aid and be ready for the day when your help will inevitably be needed. I had my first of many nervous breakdowns in 1998. That was a combination of stress and anxiety and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). The PTSD was brought about during a First Aid situation with a family member. My continuous poor mental health and the flashbacks of the PTSD means that saving victim number six was extremely traumatic for me. It happened on Saturday and I am still crying today some 48 hours later. But you have to talk about it to help recover from the trauma. It’s a strange thing when you are part of a good positive happening but so emotional that the event makes you feel unwell and upset. Then again you can’t walk past someone when the guiding hand of God puts you next to them and say “Sorry lady, but if I save your life, I will make myself ill.” So come on folks, learn some First Aid and share some of the burden. And if you can’t learn the First Aid then at least call an Ambulance.
My eldest is worried that I am still ill as she seen firsthand how I was affected by Saturday nights action. I shall say to her and to others; don’t worry, I shall get better – it’s just that I don’t know when. Or as wifey says, “you sure got f@cked up working for that lot.”
Ps if you survived post Ambulance and Hospital, then I would love to hear from you. Find me on Facebook as I know your name as I asked your friend at the scene and used your name every time I talked to you while waiting for the Ambulances to turn up. I say plural as like London buses when you need one there is none about and then two come rolling along.
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