A Tale of Two Bloggers

All I can see in the distance is a set of hazard lights, emitting an intermittent orange glow against the dark background of the night. Maybe this RTC won't be quite as given - trapped and unconscious - but as I approach at a rapid pace I can see that the hazard is not the car with the lights flashing, but a car facing the wrong way, lying on its side, perched up against a street light.
At four o'clock in the morning there's very little traffic, very little life about. The world sleeps as I do my small bit to keep it safe and well. The call rate to the ambulance service drops, but so do the number of available ambulances. I know I may be on my own for a while. I stop by the car, take one look at it and its unfortunate occupant, and call for help. I need everyone. Fire Brigade, police, at least one ambulance and a Basics doctor. This patient could need a lot of help, and quickly.
I’m fast asleep, having just finished a late shift in the A&E. How weird, then, that I can hear the drum solo from “In The Air Tonight!” Wait a minute, that’s my ‘phone, Ambulance Control. I blearily answer it, and accept a job nearby – car overturned, entrapment and unconscious.
I climb into the car through the boot, hoping that my assessment of its safety was correct and that the kerb would hold the car from tipping further. The patient was clearly unrestrained, lying with his head on the passenger window against the road, and his legs wrapped around the steering wheel. His breathing is a little slow, which concerns me but just putting an oxygen mask on him is a struggle. He tries to fight me off, making me think that this could be anything from a diabetic coma, to alcohol, to a serious head injury.
The journey is uneventful, and I pass the police barricade a few minutes after leaving home. It usually takes a little while for me to wake up fully, but the sight of the car on its side, facing the wrong way, and the lamp post knocked down, is like a splash of cold water. This doesn’t look good. I jump out of the car and grab my pack – anything else I will come back for. I jog round to the car, and am directed to the rear.
The Fire crews turn up first, and I ask about taking out the windscreen, but that would apparently take some time. I need him out quicker, but have no way to move him and no where to move him to. As I'm still fighting to get a primary set of observations done, three pairs of legs appear at the back of the car, two of them green belonging to the crew, and one of the pairs of legs orange. I recognise the voices and thank everyone who needed thanking for them turning up in a hurry. The orange pair of legs belongs to RRD, and I was fairly certain that when I'd asked for a Basics doctor, it would be him that I woke from his slumbers as I knew I was on his patch. At least now I could share my thoughts and decisions.
I peer in through the hatchback of the car, and see a familiar face – Ben! Excellent! This is going to be entertaining, if nothing else. He quickly appraises me of the situation – an unrestrained driver, was deeply unconscious, now has a GCS of around 8. Difficult to get access to the patient, no obs done. We discuss what options we have; peel the roof down or bring out through the back. I want this man out here, so I suggest to Ben that he tries to wind the seat back down, so that we can bodily drag him out. I wander over to the Fire Chief, and let him know what we are doing. He doesn’t look best pleased – I guess he was looking forward to some cutting, but offers all assistance with lifting etc that we might need. I go back to the boot of the car, to see Ben struggling vainly with the seat controls. “Got a problem?” I ask. He just grimaces, reaches under the patient, and the seat magically drifts back, giving the crew room to get him out. I leave them to it, and go and set up for the inevitable intubation.
We extricated the patient out the car the same way I'd climbed in, through the boot, and onto a rescue board. He was still trying to fight back. By now I could smell the alcohol, but still couldn't rule out that his behaviour was due to a head injury, and we treated as such. RRD knocked him out, intubated him, and made sure that our transfer to the hospital would be as event free as possible.
I watch as, first Ben and then the patient, are born(e) from the back of the car, the patient on a spine board. The crew wheeled him into position, near my kit dump, and we start to cut through all his clothes, so that I can make a formal assessment of his injuries. Ben is set the task of getting iv access. I check him over, head to toe, and find little else wrong with him, apart from the obvious – he is eyes closed, occasional groans and localising to pain. Glasgow Coma Score is therefore… anyone?? 8. of course!! I’ve got the kit ready, the team are ready, Ben gives the drugs, and the tube is in. We get him on to the vehicle, and I ask Ben to travel with us.
I travelled with them, abandoning my car at the scene and remaining in charge of the patient's ventilations as we did the breathing for him.
The journey is uneventful, and the three of us in the rear chat about stuff – other jobs we have done, BASICS, the state of the country, that sort of thing. All the while, we are closely monitoring the patient for signs of deterioration, of which there are none. We get to LocalNeuro, and hand over the patient, with some playful banter about whose IV access is better, Ben’s or mine (mine, of course)
All that remained was the tidy-up, paperwork, NHS tea in paper cups, and to get back to my car and return to base for the end of my shift. Maybe, if I asked really, really nicely, RRD would take me back in his cool car...
And then it’s all done. It’s early in the morning, and there’s a bit of paperwork and a lot of clearing up to do. We stand around, drinking our tea, before I offer Ben a lift back to his car.