For the first time in a very long time I had an FRU shift with long lulls interrupted by short working episodes. Normally it's very much the other way round. So I had some time to read, study, think and generally laze about. I was driving randomly around the area I cover to stave off the boredom when the on-board computer rings and jolts me out of my thoughts. Half way through the shift and only my second call.
70 year old female, unconscious, breathing. Head back where I've just come from... Typical. Whilst on route, I hear control call over the radio to ask if there are any ambulances available to help cover my call, which means I could well be on my own for a while. Something tells me to prepare for the worst, so when I arrive on scene I take all my luggage with me, not just the bare essentials.
I arrive to find the front door open, and call in to find out where the patient was. The strangled, distressed cry from upstairs tells me what I already feared. Not the words, just the voice. Upstairs, lying on the bed, cyanosed, not breathing at all, is Grace. "She's been like that for about 10 minutes now. She hasn't been right all day, but she just decided to sleep it off!" Grace's husband is beside himself with anguish. We move Grace onto the floor and I begin CPR. It's too difficult for him to watch and he tries to cope by calling members of his family.
In the meantime another FRU and a crew turn up and the resuscitation attempts are in full swing. More and more members of family turn up, adding to the emotion of the situation. We shepherd the family into one of the rooms downstairs while we carry Grace downstairs. It's not a very dignified process. It's a mess of arms and legs, squeezing round corners, over banisters and other obstacles. Despite the fact I have no problem with family members watching a resus (for some it's therapeutic), I think that the one thing they don't need to see is carrying their loved one down the stairs.
Grace kept fighting all the way to hospital, and we kept fighting for her. One of her relatives came with us in the ambulance. We arrived and handed over to the hospital team, who continued our efforts. After a while, when it became apparent that there was no more that could be done, the team stopped the resuscitation and went to talk to the family. By this time there were quite a few members of the family at the hospital, hoping for the best, and at the same time fearing the worst. The doctor explained all that had happened, and that despite our best efforts, Grace had died.
We were sitting filling in our paperwork when the family filed past on a sombre walk to see Grace for the last time. The lady who came with us in the ambulance stopped and told the rest of the family that we were the ambulance crew who'd tried to save Grace.
One by one they walked up to us, shook our hands, and said thank you. It was probably the most moving thank you I'd ever received.
Then they went on to say their final goodbyes.
2 comments:
If only we had more jobs like that... I don't mean the type or the patient outcome but for getting the recognition and thanks for the job that we do, even if sometimes we don't win them all.
Whilst the outcome of that job was the worst, the very fact that, despite their grief the family had the courage and strength to say thankyou makes me realise why it is that I do the job - we cannot save every person but knowing that I did my very best and getting the recognition and thanks for that makes it worthwhile.
A really nicely written blog...
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