An Update

I know I said I would do a series of posts on observations, and I still intend to, but at the moment real life is just getting in the way. This is just a quick update of what’s happening, and the next post will be about something I really need to get off of my chest.

So, I am rapidly approaching the end of my degree. My final report is due next Tuesday, and after the Thursday after that, I am done. Finished. Leaving my university and likely not coming back (except for graduation based stuff).

I’m not going to lie, it’s a scary prospect. Not accounting for my work placement, I’ve been in full-time education for 19 years. It is literally the only thing I can remember doing. As of September, I start on the beginning of what (at the moment, at least) will be a career in Engineering. Real engineering (it doesn’t get any more real than jet engines…), where the work I do actually has a real purpose.

I will be leaving behind what I know and am comfortable with, a huge number of my friends, and all the other benefits of student life. This is scary beyond belief…

In other news, I am currently bike-less again, as some idiot drove over the front wheel of my bike (fortunately while I wasn’t on it). Needless to say, this is very annoying, not least because I am currently sat on a bus that takes the most roundabout route home possible.

This year I am not going to the graduation ball. In fact, this is the first time since starting university that I’ve not been there in some kind of first aid capacity, and I have zero interest in going as a punter. I had intended to go as first aid, but I haven’t been asked yet, and the unit has upset one of my good friends, so we’ve decided to go on duty the next morning instead. The person who did the upsetting is now also not going, but I have managed to persuade my friend that it isn’t her problem any more (and so she doesn’t need to pick up the pieces after the very likely meltdown).

Speaking of meltdowns, the local adult division is currently having a very slow one. Three of the more progressive members have been made to feel very unwelcome, and so have walked away. As a result, their training program is steadily going down the pan, morale is going to drop (as people realise what they’ve lost), and its all going to go to hell. Of the units six-ish active ambulance qualified volunteers, they now have two actively refusing to do events, two prioritising county level events (me and CycleGuy), leaving two to (fail to) meet the units commitments (meaning other units have to help out).

On the bright side, my unit of young people is going strong.  We have just had a very successful sponsored walk (where I got to legitimately play tag for the first time since I left junior school), and have half a dozen things planned for the near future.

Work is still being its normal irritating self (but that’s retail for you), and I’m doing far too many hours for the Organisation (no change there, then), and for the most part I’m enjoying myself.

When things start settling down, I will try to post more frequency.  For now, I will get on when I can, and I’m still on Twitter (my lifeline when drowning in my project).

Now, to finish, another musical interlude.  Enjoy

Well I’ll Go to the Foot of the Stairs

Yesterday, after a rather dull afternoon on duty, I went out to a meal with a group of my Organisation friends.  Amongst them was one of the most senior uniformed members in the area.  Now, normally I get on very well with this person (who I will christen TopBoss, because the people above her don’t count…), but everything I have been hearing has suggested that she has been getting in the way of us taking the bikes and making them better.

Needless to say, bikes came up at the meal (as they do…), but, unexpectedly, it was TopBoss who brought them up.  By saying that she was getting us some shiny new equipment.  To be precise, a set of miniaturised medical gas bottles and a lightweight, compact defibrillator that’ll actually fit in the panniers properly. This is kit we’ve wanted for a long time, as it makes our lives so much easier on duty.  It’s only enough for one pair of bikes, but that’s a lot better than the nothing we expected to get.

It turns out, despite what we’ve thought, TopBoss is very much in favour of the bikes, but normally has too many other things she needs to buy to spare any money on a set of bikes that rarely get used.  Which is really good (and a great relief).

Of cause, this means we now have only one person to blame for the state of the bikes, but he’s someone we can’t do anything about until the restructuring happens.

Opportunities

I’m about (but not straight away) to say something that probably makes me appear very selfish…

As a rule, I have in the past tended to be quite self-effacing (check definition) when it comes to being given opportunities.  To be more specific, if there are not enough places to get to an event,  I tend to be the sort of person who will offer up his place to another.  I like to do things that help other people out, even if it inconveniences or harms me.  On a number of occasions, this attitude has least that I have missed out on things that I particularly wanted to do, but there weren’t enough places.

We have a major duty coming up, the first of the season. As always, I said that I would prefer to cycle, but would do anything. Others have been less open-minded ( almost demanding that they be allowed to do whatever…)

As is probably to be expected from an organisation like this, we’re short-staffed. This means that people ( myself included) have been given roles that are less than ideal. Admittedly, I’m on a vehicle, which isn’t terrible, but I probably wont get anything, as is normal when I crew an ambulance… Nevertheless, I’m pretty nonplussed. I’ll do whatever is needed. I figure that at some point this might earn me brownie points, and besides, in my opinion it is the right thing to do…

Now it is possible that, at the last-minute, I’ll get reassigned to a bike. Its happened before, and rumor has it that it has been considered. Naturally, this hasn’t gone down well with some of the others. One person has even gone so far as to encourage me not to take my cycle uniform, so someone else can do it instead ( read: him).

Now I’m sorry. I appreciate that people are disappointed with their roles on the day. However, if I am given the opportunity to cycle, I’m jumping at it…  I don’t often get to ride a bike, and I am usually very willing to go wherever I am needed.  I see no reason to go against this, just because I’ve been offered a better position and someone else hasn’t.

Of cause, I’m far too tactful (read: timid) to actually challenge that other member on this.  I just let it lie, and of cause this probably means he’s assumed I’ve agreed with him.  It could be interesting if the situation actually comes up (though I doubt it).

Hitting the Speed Bumps

Image via Wikipedia

As an organisation (or, at least, in my part of the organisation), we are very keen at helping out the local ambulance service. By this I mean we will send out crews on ambulances (and occasionally on bikes) to help the service respond to 999 calls. Understandably, this could only be done by experienced members, and one of the criteria for the ambulance work was a certain number of hours third crewing on those shifts. This means working with two experienced members to build up some experience dealing with patients potentially more serious than anything I’ve ever dealt with before, which I’m strongly in favour of.  I don’t think I’d be happy going out on a shift without doing this first.

Unfortunately, since I qualified, it is no longer possible to third crew on any of our vehicles. Something to do with weight limits on the vehicles (which, given many of them are  transit vans modified into ambulances, not necessarily their original design role). This is very frustrating for me, as it means I can’t gain the experience needed to do NHS support.

To make matters worse, there are very few of us in this position (probably about 3 or 4), and so nobody at county level cares enough to do something about it. As far as they’re concerned, there are enough people to cover the shifts, and so there isn’t a problem.  This leaves me, and those few others, in a catch-22 situation: without having the needed experience, we aren’t able to gain the experience.

Needless to say, this is very frustrating.

A little while back, there was a possible solution. Our CRU lead sent us an email looking for interest in doing NHS cover on the bikes over Christmas. The roads get very busy in BigCity when everyone is doing their Christmas shopping, and the bikes can get around a lot easier than road ambulances. A load of us (apparently) applied, and it looked like it would go ahead. I even delayed heading home for Christmas around this.  A couple of us entertained the thought that this might count towards us getting some experience towards the ambulance work.

Of cause, it never happened. And we only found that out for certain a couple of days before the period was due to end. The reasons given was lack of  interest (yeah right), other duty commitments (*looks at depressingly empty duties book*) and lack of funding (*sigh*). Some of the more cynical amongst us suspect our useless County CRU lead is also to blame, but ho-hum.

All I’ve got to hope, in the nicest possible way to my patients, is that I get something interesting to do on the normal shift. Which, given my track record on a vehicle (nine or ten shifts, one patient transported for a minor injury) seems rather unlikely.  The only time I might have had an interesting job, someone kicked me off my truck (story to follow).

I think, as far as possible, I’ll try to stick with the bikes. At least on them I get something to do (and some useful exercise), giving me some experience treating, even if it’s not transporting someone…

My friend and I are already planning what out of county events we want to do.  Hopefully we’ll have a good yeah helping out our colleagues in the big city. At least there they know how well a bike unit can work…

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Low Morale – Again

And yet again, the politics and the inertia of the Organisation takes a hit.  Not with me this time, but with one of my friends.  He and I have been doing a fair few out of county events to get some responding experience, and the main reason: there are next to no events we can go to in our own county.  It’s been good fun, and a good experience to see how other areas cover their events.

This has the side effect that we’ve seen how good some of the other units can get, and quite how far behind in development ours is.  It’s a bit depressing knowing that we’ve got so few events people are fighting over them, when other units have more events than they can cover.  It’s also sad to see how not-seriously people are taking our bikes, and the general neglect they’ve received in comparison with some of the others I’ve ridden over the past fortnight.  I know they aren’t as flash as our fancy front-line ambulances, but they are important and useful in their own right (and would be more so if they were properly maintained).  At the moment, we daren’t take them out of county, they are so sub-standard.

Don’t get me wrong.  For the most part they are safe to use and they do the job.  Well, for the most part…  The problem is that they are older than average, have previously been poorly maintained, and the unit doesn’t currently support itself financially so none of this is likely to change any time soon.  The unit has just gained a load of new and keen members, but there is no so much inertia over change, and so many blocks in our way, we’ve got a lot to deal with to get things up to scratch.

I hope that things will get sorted.  We have the enthusiasm.  We have the ideas.  Now we just need to get the money, and the support from above, and we might get moving.

Why does everything in a volunteer organisation have such inertia…

Cycle Response Run

We’re standing by outside the recruitment post.  Our bikes are attracting a lot of attention: a push bike with Ambulance blazoned across it is an unusual sight.

“992, 992 from Control.”

I turn away from the kids I’ve been explaining the bikes to.  ”Go ahead Control.”

“Respond under emergency conditions to romeo-one-five.  Collapsed child.”

I peer at my map, matching up R15 to where I currently am.  Bloody hell, we’re the other side the city.  I turn to see my partner already mounting up.  To the kids: “Sorry guys, got to go.”  I jump on to my bike, kick the stand away, and push off.

My partner pulls off ahead, and I slip in behind him.  I was good, and left my bike in a low gear when I pulled up.  We accelerate away, shifting up the gears until we’re racing along the road at a respectable rate.

It’s dusk, the perfect time for visibility.  What’s left of the sunlight makes our fluorescent jackets glow, while it’s dark enough for the reflective strips shine in every light.  Nobody should fail to see us as we race past.

We’re in luck.  Most of the route is a closed road. We have the tarmac to ourselves.  We make good time, getting half way to the far side of the event to the other before we know it.

We’re getting to the busy part now.  Slowing down a little, we weave between clumps of people, earning a few glares as we take a turn faster than perhaps people would like.  We shift down, cutting out speed to safely navigate around the dawdling obstacles.

The crowd thickens.  The spaces between the groups narrow.  We start to lose speed, stuck behind people wandering along, not expecting two cyclists to try to barge their way through.

On goes my siren.  They sound a bit weird, too high-pitched, but they certainly grab people’s attention.  People turn and stare.  A path opens up in the crowd, and we regain a little of our lost momentum.

One group turn and stare.  We approach, weaving left and right, trying to find a way past.  My siren is still going full blast, and it’s joined by my partner’s electronic buzzer.  The harsh sound cuts across the sounds of the crowd, making people wince, but still they stand, staring at us like rabbits in our headlights.

We’ve slowed to a crawl, nowhere to go.  Frantically we wave at them. “Make a path!”

Comprehension dawns.  They dawdle out of our way, and we pull off again.  Finally, a clear path opens, the crowd finally getting the hint that the loud, horrible noise means ‘we’re in a hurry, get out of the way’, not ‘everyone stop and stare’.

We career around the last few corners, the road finally clear again. We almost reach a sprint as we close in on our destination. I’ve been listening in to the radio as much as I can, in the hope that we get stood down, or someone got their first. No such luck.

We skid to a halt at the mouth of the road, screeching disc brakes announcing our presence better than any siren. The road is short.  If anyone was collapsed there, we’d be able to see them.

My partner circles up and down the road, scouting the area, while I hold a slightly breathless conversation on the radio, confirming the location of the call. Control tries to call back the original caller, while we lean up against our bikes, catching our breath.

Eventually they stand us down. Apparently our ‘collapse’ had got back up again when his parent’s didn’t give him all the fuss he wanted.  Of cause, they hadn’t thought to stand us down.

We took the slow route back to the first aid post…

Related articles

• Cycle Response (walkingplasterdispenser.wordpress.com)
• Cycle Response Training – Part 2 (walkingplasterdispenser.wordpress.com)
• Cycle Response Training – Part 1 (walkingplasterdispenser.wordpress.com)
• Four new cycle paramedics trained for Great Yarmouth (bbc.co.uk)

Cycle Response

Okay, I’m possibly a little excited.  Actually, scratch that, I’m acting like a kid on Christmas morning.

The last parts of my cycle responder uniform turned up this morning.  This is (and yes, I say it again) extremely exciting.

I’ve wanted to join the cycle responders for years now.  The first time I tried to get on the course, it was cancelled two days before.  The next time, after I’d spent some quality time with the cycle response policy, I didn’t think I had a hope of meeting the fitness requirement. That, and the high price for the uniform, I nearly gave up on it.

Somehow I persuaded myself I could do it.  Somehow, we’d raise the money.  Somehow, I’d pass the fitness test.

And I did it.  I passed the tests.  I am planning fundraising with a fellow responder.

This just left waiting for the uniform.  It’s special purpose uniform, so doesn’t get ordered often, and usually has a long lead time. I fully anticipated having to miss some events because I didn’t have the right uniform.

It’s now here.  All of it, in its hi-visibility yellow glory.  Now I feel like a proper cycle responder.

And just in time.  My first event is in just over a week and a half from now.  I can’t wait!

This sounds a little sad, but it feels like a dream come true.  I never thought I’d get to do this.  This is so much more important to me than the upcoming ambulance aid course I’ve been invited to.  True I might be able to go around in an ambulance soon, but I can go out on a bike now.

So yes.  A little excited, I think.

Cycle Response Training–Part 2

The first day of training was to prove that we could control the bikes, and that we were safe enough to be let loose on the roads.  The second day was for demonstrating that would could cycle safely in real traffic, and the fitness tests.

First up was the cycle in traffic.  As campus is on the top of a hill, this first involved a cycle down the hill.  Oh, and the glorious weather yesterday had turned in to pouring rain.

I was riding one of the response bikes.  Complete with an almost full load-out of equipment (including a full O₂ cylinder).  Down a steep hill.  A wet, steep hill.  That was an interesting experience.

To save time, our instructor combined the endurance test with the proficiency assessment.  The requirements changed depending on age and gender, but we were all aiming for 10km in 40 minutes, the young male target.  This is a fairly comfortable patrol speed, and even before allowing for the traffic and the rain, we did fine.

We had a lunch-break in town, just about hiding from the rain while keeping a close eye on the response bikes.

The next assessment was a 1km sprint, followed by a six-minute scenario including CPR.  Except, this had to take place on campus, where we wouldn’t have as much traffic to deal with.

Remember that hill.  We were now headed the other way.  With our bikes, so no cheating by taking the bus.

Four of us tried to ride our bikes up the hill, two on response bikes (me and one other) and two on their own bikes.  Everyone else decided not to even try to cycle, walking up instead.

It was a slog, more so considering the fact that I was already soaked through, and was lugging a gas cylinder.  And I made it.  Once I’d got my breath back, and decided I wasn’t about to have a heart attack, I was very pleased with myself.  I’ve never managed that hill before, but this bike had a decent set of gears.

Of cause, I then had to do the sprint.  Along a road on campus, and up and down another one, including two hard turns and an automated barrier to navigate.  I had to aim for 2 minutes 40 seconds, from the end of the radio call.  Oh, and still have enough breath to do CPR for six minutes, and enough sense through the adrenaline to run an AED without ‘killing’ myself.

I made the time, just about.  Felt like I was going to keel over when I skidded to a halt by the ‘patient’, but some how managed to survive.

The scenario wasn’t textbook.  I forgot to check if the patient was breathing, but otherwise did okay.

Only then did we find out that we didn’t need to do the manoeuvres again (a great relief), and we had all passed.  After a small amount of paperwork, a quick round of presentations, and then we headed home. Dripping wet, absolutely knackered, but pleased, and more importantly, now all qualified Cycle Responders.

Oh, and that hill climb…  I felt that one for days.

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Cycle Response Training – Part 1

A few weekends ago, I attended a two-day course to become a Cycle Responder for the Organisation.  As promised, I’ve written a bit to describe the course.

The first day was pretty relaxed.  The obligatory introduction to a course. A quick bit on the various levels of Cycle Responder in the Organisation, and what the course would entail.  Designating a first aider for the course (a course for first aiders who are all at least trusted to use an AED, if not medical gases, and with a doctor also attending) caused a brief session of everyone volunteering everyone else. A quick reminder that if we came across anything while cycling around on the bright yellow, Organisation branded bikes, we would need to stop and help.  Then, on to the course.

Our instructor first had to take us out to a car park and get us to show that we could actually ride our bikes.  We had to demonstrate that we could ride without wobbling, signal and look over our shoulders without problems, and perform an emergency stop from a sprint without falling off (or shooting over the handlebars).

Next up was the low-speed manoeuvring.  As a Cycle Responder on duty, it is expected that we will spend most of our time on our bikes.  Unless we’re treating or stopping, we should aim to cycle everywhere.  This includes through crowds and behind people meandering down the pavement.  Constantly mounting and dismounting looks silly, and on a bike that’s a little on the tall side, is rather awkward.

To make sure we can do this safely, we have to demonstrate that we can handle the bikes at the speed of a slow walk.  This is a pain in the arse.  It involves gearing down as low as possible, and then peddling with the rear brake partially on to give a little resistance to work against.  Doing this, while remaining balanced, is hard.

The first unofficial test is what our instructor called the slow race.  A set of cones, spread out in a triangle shape, with everyone at the wide end.  The aim was to be the last person to reach the point, without stopping.  Chaos ensued as we all moved off to fast, slowed, wobbled, collided with each other, and generally tried to move slowly.  Needless to say, none of us did well.

Next, after much more practice moving slowly, came the 10 foot box.  More cones, this time arranged in a square with sides 10 feet long.  We had to enter the box, circle inside of it three times, and then cycle out, turn around, and do the reverse.

Picture, for a minute this box.  Now add in a bike.  A bike about 5 feet long.  With two heavy panniers on. This is not an easy manoeuvre.

We spent several hours on this, by which time we were all thoroughly bored, irritated and frustrated, but everyone pulled it off, to our unified relief.  Though, when we found out that this was a practice run, and we would be assessed on it tomorrow, we were far from impressed.

Then, after a bit of a talk on bike maintenance (mainly how to take a wheel off and repair a puncture), we were done for the day.  Tired, sunburnt, a still a little dizzy from the box, we headed home.

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The Secrecy Dance

I’ve noticed something very interesting about human behaviour, and how we keep secret.

Naturally, as a ‘professional’ (ish… not my word) involved in the collection of information about people, I am required to keep a lot of secrets.  It wouldn’t do if I was to announce to the entire world that I treated Joe Bloggs on Friday when he cracked his head open while drunk.  This would quickly make me very unpopular, and probably get me in to a lot of hot water. (Incidentally, if your name is Joe and you cracked your head open last Friday, trust me, it wasn’t me in the green and yellow jacket…)

A short time ago, one of my line managers (who I shall give the conveniently androgynous pseudonym Chris) had a brief conversation with me about their planning to step down in the near future.  Nothing to drastic, but they didn’t want me spreading it around until they had made it public knowledge themselves.  (From my point of view it was bad news, but that’s another story.)  This was fair enough, and not exactly a difficult one to manage.

I then was on duty with another member (from now on known CycleGuy…), who also worked with this person.  We were talking about this, that and the other, and the conversation bent around to what we wanted to do in the future.  We’ve both just qualified as cycle responders (yes, yes, the posts are being written…) and involved in youth work (in my case a lot, in his case as a favour to Chris). I can’t exactly remember what was said, but it involved depending on a decision from Chris.  Cue an awkward silence.  I suspect he knows.  He probably thinks I know.  We’ve both promised to keep this to ourselves for a couple more days.  Cue a conversation I’ve heard a thousand times before:

Me: When did you last speak to Chris?

CycleGuy (CG): Last night, why?

Me: Did you have a ‘conversation’?

CG: Possibly… What about?

Me: About them and the Organisation.

CG: Why? Did you have a conversation?

Me: Yes, a couple of days ago.

CG: About them and the Organisation?

Me: Yes.

CG: Was it, perhaps, about their position?

Me: Yes. About the future of it?

CG: Yes. They told you then?  I wondered if you knew.

Me: Same

Cue much relaxing and less panic over breaking confidences…

Every time I get in to this sort of situation this conversation happens. A careful exchange of vaguely related data until we’ve both worked out that the other person knows what we know.  A calculated risk, but worthwhile when it means we can talk to each other without being paranoid about saying the wrong thing.

Well, until I say something that was only meant to get to me, and drop myself in it anyway…