Laughing baby is healthy baby

It was early in the morning, the kind of early that leaves you wandering who would even be awake to call for an ambulance. Unfortunately people were awake, and had called for an ambulance. Inconsiderant, I know...

The call was for a 1 month old in respiratory distress - lights were on in an instant and I ran through the checklist of scenarios in my head, equipment that would be brought and, thanks to my Training Officer (TO) who would do what for each scenario with what drugs and treatments we could use.

We got to the address quickly and got into the house, anxious father in tow. In front of us sat the 1 month old, a smile from ear to ear in a warm blanket in Mum's lap.

We ask what had happened, the anxious father tells us how his son had been sleeping, suddenly awoke bright red and had coughed up a fair amount of clear sputum and had gone back to sleep. My TO grins - with 5 kids of his own he knows full well what has happened and later tells me this story is not unusual for first time parents.

It is easy to forget that babies aren't just little people - their brains are still wiring up and many organs aren't fully developed at birth. A good example of this is that babies lose their swallow reflex when asleep - and as was the case here, as saliva is continually produced the baby wakes after having a minor choke on the unswallowed saliva. After getting that out of the way, they usually just go back to sleep - if the parents hadn't been there they would never have even known it had happened. It was almost certainly not the first time this had happened, and definitely wouldn't be the last.

The relieved and sleepy trio came with us to hospital for a 'just in case' checkup, which although we didn't think it was needed were more than happy to provide.

Taken directly from my record; "Pt stable and sleepy en route", laughing to myself I thought the Pt and myself had a lot in common.

Morning mist

It's the early hours of morning, my partner and I are driving back to station after a long and grueling night shift. A thick morning mist has spread across the land and as we drive down the highway I can see the vast fields around us covered with it, like a curtain trying to hide the events of the night. Maybe it was me hiding from the world, maybe I'm just overtired.

He lay in the back of the ambulance, motionless. His frail frame covered in sores and bruises from spending so long in bed. His old age was shown in every feature - from his thin wispy white hair to his lithe and withered frame. I didn't even take a blood pressure, his arms so thin I feared even the inflation of the cuff might snap the brittle bones. Baseline observations had been taken as we left the hospital, I write these down on our records.

His skin had thinned so much I can almost see the cancers that have invaded almost every major organ in his body save his lungs. Asthma and a chronic chest infection was now claiming those.

He stared vacantly out of the window, knowing his end was near. Knowing I knew his end was near. He mumbled something, it takes me a moment to realise he's asking for another blanket, and even though he came from one of the good hospitals with clean linen, I discard his spare used blanket and get him a fresh one from our linen. His eyes tell me of how much he has lost - time with loved ones, freedom to move around as he pleases, freedom from pain. Worse is knowing the final blow - his right to die at his home as he wishes. His wife rides up the front, visibly restraining herself from crying as we near the Palliative Care ward of his new and last home.

A dark cloud stayed over the ambulance the entire journey, and although I heard small talk coming from the front between my partner and our patient's wife, I know nothing that is said is really being listened to. The back remains quiet as our patient returns to sleep, possibly the only comfort he has left.

We're driving back to station and I look out into the mist. I watch it slowly cover the land and hiding everything underneath. I prepare myself mentally for the next job, a routine I've become accustomed to regardless of the patient previous. A last memory flicks into my mind before the mist covers it too - the last words I said to my patient after moving him into his ward bed;

"Well mate, get some rest, it's still very early - and Happy Birthday."
He sqeezes my hand and smiles, if only for a moment.

One month to the day

As the title suggests, it is one month to the day since my last post... The reasons why are numerous and varied, but ultimately discussing them would be a waste of your valuable time. The essential thing to remember is this; I'm back, I'm a Level 1 Paramedic and I finally have time to continue this journal as such.

I've also managed to get StretcherMarks working again after a major server crash, so if you're in the industry why not take a peek and join in the fun? I even managed to upgrade the backend from Joomla 1.03 to 1.5, the new core code is much more flexible and has thus allowed me to merge a phpBB into the same login system, making chatting in the forum significantly easier.

So sit back and relax in the knowledge that some rather interesting stories are coming your way, back to the update schedule of Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.