Home Alone

The smell of stale urine hit us as soon as we crossed the threshold. It's a smell that we encounter time and time again, and yet never fails to hit my lungs like a sledgehammer.

We've been called to Dorothy, a lady in her 80's who fell and has since been unable to get up. It's another of our "routine" calls. We expected to see Dorothy on the floor, but she was in her favourite armchair, sitting drinking the tea that her carer had just made for her. A little confused, I begin questioning Dorothy as to what happened.

She had apparently fallen 24 hours earlier, managed to get to her armchair, and has been sat there ever since, unable to get up, despite many attempts. She's not in any pain, doesn't seem to have any injuries, and her basic observations were probably healthier than mine... We helped Dorothy to stand, and with almost no effort she was off walking around the house using her zimmer frame. As if there was nothing wrong at all. She didn't want to go to hospital. She didn't want a doctor. She just wanted to be able to get up and walk around like she normally does. Problem solved? Not quite...

Dorothy lives in a first floor maisonette with no stair-lift and can't manage stairs. She can't cook for herself or bath herself. She can't go shopping. She has no mobility aids at home. No alarm system if she falls. A carer comes in once a day, but that's no where near enough. Her only next-of-kin is her older brother.

Once again, the role of the Paramedic includes social care. We are sometimes exposed to sights that are worse than any traumatic injury. We see abuse. We see neglect. We see heartbreaking loneliness.

There's very little we can do, other than fill out the form that goes to social services, and they can then reassess the patient and hopefully give them the extra care we need. But just like it was with Jim and his mum I can only hope that Dorothy's case won't be left too long. I hope they help her before it's too late.