The hardest job in the world...

FRU WORK:

Like:

The challenge of working on my own;

the need to think quickly;

the ability to act independently;

the satisfaction of being able to start stabilising the patient before the crew turns up.

Dislike:

Being left on my own when the patient desperately needs to get to hospital;

the associated risks of working on my own.

Hate:

Being on my own and having to tell someone that their best friend has just been killed in a motorcycle accident when they were both riding home together.

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I arrive on scene to see dozens of police officers. Most looking shocked. Some physically shaking. One is clearly in tears. As I'm about 50 metres from the scene of the accident a man runs in front of my car and stops me getting any nearer. He comes to the door of the car, swings it violently open and pulls me out the car. He's shaking, pale, and screaming louder than I've heard anyone scream for a long time. There are a lot of bystanders too. They're also yelling and screaming.

"HE'S UNDER THE CAR! HE'S UNDER THE CAR! DO SOMETHING! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR???"

I grab my equipment and run over to the estate car on the side of the road. And there he is. His motorcycle is nowhere to be seen. At first all I see is a leg sticking out from under the car. His other leg is under the wheel. There is so much blood I start to wonder where it's all coming from. I take a proper look under the car, and it takes me very little time to realise that this patient is beyond help. There is nothing I or anyone could do. Apart from the fact that he is under the car and I can't get to him properly. Even if I could get to him, there was nothing left that could be done. It was clear he was not breathing. Cardiac arrest post traumatic injury equals practically no chance of survival.

After a few minutes a crew turns up. I tell them of my findings, and in a last-ditch attempt, maybe a clutching at straws, we remove his boot to check for a pulse in his foot. We find none.

Eventually the Fire Brigade lifted the car and our fears and suspicions were clearly confirmed. The driver had in the meantime run away from the scene. (I hope when they catch him they... actually, I don't know what I hope...)

All the while, the man who pulled me out the car is walking about, clearly distressed. I discover that the man under the car is his friend. They were both on their way home from the office together. Both riding bikes. And his friend was under this car. I'm sure he realised that he was dead. I'm sure that he knew there was nothing I could do. But he clearly couldn't accept it. He must have yelled at me at least a dozen times before the crew turned up that I should be doing something.

I wish there was something I could have done.

I wish I could have found the way to tell him what he already knew in a way that didn't bring both of us to the verge of tears.

Sometimes I hate my job.