My Future as a Leader

As I have mentioned a few times now, I am currently the leader of the local Organisation unit for young people.  This means I am in charge of two other adults and twenty 10-18 year-olds, and am somehow responsible for making sure they become disciplined, confident and well-rounded individuals (which most of them are).

Now, I have been a member of this organisation for just under five years.  The first three-ish years were spent in the university unit, which was fun at first, but in the end I had a falling out with two of the more influential members, and it became more trouble than it was worth to stay put.  Somehow, I convinced myself (and was convinced) that it would be a good idea to work with young people, and I transferred to, and eventually ended up leading, the my current unit.  In short, this was the best thing I could ever have done.  While trying not to be over-dramatic, I am convinced that, had I stayed at the University unit, I would since have left the organisation, or at the very least be very fed up.  Instead, I have had two of the most enjoyable years of my life, and I have grown very attached to all of the young people I work with.

Unfortunately, now that I am graduating, life gets more interesting.  With my upcoming graduate program, I could end up changing where I am working every three months.  I could end up spending three months working in the US, or Germany, or anywhere else that my company operates in. Add on to the fact that I won’t know where my first placement is until after my housing contract has ended, and this level of uncertainty is not really conducive to being a good leader.

I don’t want to leave my unit.  I feel like I have really achieved something here, and without all the hassle of the politics involved in working with adults, and I also feel really guilty about being the fourth leader to leave them in as many years.

That said, I am about to embark on what could be a really exciting start to my career, and I am worried that if I feel tied down to a specific location, I am going to be unwilling to take up some of the opportunities I could get.  I would love to go work in the US, even for a little bit.  While part of me is keen to stay in the UK, I think I would be doing myself a disservice if I let these chances pass me be.  It’s not as if I wouldn’t be able to volunteer in EMS elsewhere (even if I ultimately end up living outside the UK).

I think I’m going to have to have a long hard think about this, when all my university stuff is done, and I have a feeling I know what the answer will be.

It totally sucks, but I have a feeling I won’t be a youth leader for much longer.

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).

Don’t Make Me Angry

It’s a schools rugby game.  Not a small one either, the final in the local schools league, which means everyone is taking it that much more seriously.

We’re over by the side, well out-of-the-way, but close enough that we can see and hear what’s happening on the pitch. The windows are all rolled down, and we’re just lounging in the cab of the ambulance, enjoying the sun and chatting about everything and anything.  In short, it’s shaping up as another Q word duty.

A loud yell.  A thud, two bodies against the floor, and a groan from the crowd.  Silence.  Must have been a nasty tackle.  We watch, waiting for the players to get up.  One does.  He’s a little scraped up, but nothing that’ll stop him playing.  He looks down at his dazed  competitor, offering a hand.  And freezing, his face dropping.  The crowd goes silent again, and then, through the breeze, “Medic!”

I slip through into the back of the truck while my crewmate jogs out to the pitch.  Grabbing the gases and the response bag, I scoot out of the back of the vehicle and walk over.  I’ve got all the kit, but there’s no need to rush.  My crewmate is in charge of this one, and he doesn’t look that flustered.  He certainly has yelled anything at me yet.

I can see from two meters off that our rugby player is in pain.  A lot of pain.  From a meter off I can see why.  His shoulder is most definitely out-of-place.  I look to my crewmate as I drop the kit down.  ”What do you need?”

“We’re not going to get anything done here.  I think shuffle to the back of the vehicle and check things out in the peace and quiet.”

“Spinal?”

We both look at him craning around, looking at everything that is going on and the crowd forming around him.

“Probably not.”  We say together, and grin awkwardly.  We’ve been working together a while now, we know each other too well.

“Right, so entonox, scoop, cot?  Nah, scratch that, we can scoop him straight into the back, will be better on his shoulder.”  I eye up the terrain, nothing particularly challenging.  ”So straps, anything else?”

“Sounds good.  Though, perhaps some crowd control?”  The last bit is quiet, for my ears only.

I look around at what looks like  both entire teams craning to see what is going on. “I’ll see what I can do.”  I stand up and start in a reasonable tone: “Alright guys, let’s have some space to work please.”  A couple of people shuffle back, but it appears that a dislocation is just too interesting to leave.  ”Seriously guys, you aren’t helping.  Give us some room.”

Slowly everyone backs off, far enough at least to let me get out and bring the kit back.

Someone who looks distinctly like a coach steps in front of me, deliberately blocking my path.  ”What’s going on?”

I ignore the obvious answer of we’re treating someone, going instead for “I’m just getting some equipment, then we’ll get our friend back there moved into our vehicle.”

“How long’s this going to take?”

“As long as it takes.  We need to be sure we don’t do any more damage.”

“Can’t you just put it back in and walk him off?  We have a game to finish here.”

“Only if you fancy explaining to his parents why he will never use his arm again.  Besides, you have three other pitches you can use, if you’re in a hurry.”  I know that I’m skating the edge of being rude, but you’re annoying me and I have a patient to look after.  He looks grumpy.  ”Look, the sooner you let me get this kit, the sooner we’ll be out of your way.”  I don’t think that’s an appreciated comment, but at least he does move.

A brisk walk to the ambulance, a brief argument with the scoop stretcher, and then I’m on my way back with magic pain killing gas in one hand and jack of all trades lifting equipment in the other.  And yet again I’m facing a crowd, and this time I’ve got minimal patience left.  ”GUYS!”  A single syllable projected across the entire field.  Even I’m a little stunned by the silence that rolls back.  ”Move OUT of my way.  Give us room so that we can do our job.”  Youth Leader training kicks in.  Act assuming compliance.  I step forward purposefully and the crowd spreads out, dispersing before my eyes.  Recognise good behaviour.  ”Thank you guys.”

My crewmate looks at me, eyes wide and jaw lowered.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch something.”  The residual annoyance makes it a little more of a snap than I intended, but I soften it with a grin.

Our patient manages a strained laugh through the pain as my crewmates’ mouth snaps shut with a click.  He takes the entonox from me, apparently grateful for something to do to cover the confusion, and I start explaining the lift and shift process to our patient.  Once his pain has gone away a little (and he’s high enough not to care about what’s left), we scoop and scoot, and the rest of the job is a fairly routine transport.

As we’re packing up at the hospital, my crewmate looks at me over the cot we’re re-making.  ”Are you okay?  You sounded pretty annoyed back there with the crowd.”

I shrug.  ”That was just lack of patience.  You’ll know when I’m angry.”  He looks at me questioningly, and I just smile.

Anonymous Blogging

I wrote about this a while back, but I am having serious thoughts about my pseudo-anonymous blogging policy.

Under no circumstances am I going to give out my real name, or where these events happen in the country.  That’s too much of a risk to me, and makes it more difficult to protect the confidentiality of my patients.  If someone seriously wants to find these things out, they probably can, but even if they do I have plausible deniability on my side (the fictionalised elements of all my treatment stories also seriously help), if nothing else.

That said, I have had serious thoughts about revealing who I volunteer for.  I recognise that it puts me in a compromising situation, I certainly haven’t pulled my punches on here.  However, it also lets me openly support some of the wonderful work and campaigns the Organisation run.  And while I know my comments aren’t going to make a real different to the Organisation, I do recognise that even little things can have far-reaching and unintended consequences.

I think (after actually writing this out) I might leave things as they are for the moment.  Reading back, my reasons for changing just aren’t strong, while my reasons for staying the same (not least, patient confidentiality) are.  Sounds like a conclusion to me.

Morale

Morale seems to have hit an all-time low in the adult branch of the Organisation recently (or more specifically in this county, I can’t really comment on anywhere else).  Attendance at duties is poor, attendance at training isn’t much better, my local Adult unit is about ready to tear itself apart and nobody can be bothered to change anything.  For someone like me, who is really passionate about my work with the Organisation, this sucks.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not worried that everything is going to collapse around my ears.  At present, we have far too much momentum to do that.  It’s just seeing all the wonderful things we could be doing, and all the effort that people at all levels are putting in, and it just getting bogged down in a marsh of apathy, really gets me down.

Take the bikes.  They are in dire need of some TLC, and the entire unit needs some strong leadership to get it back on its feet.  It’s holding on in there, but only because there’s a few of us who won’t let it lie down and die.  I know for a fact that there are people in positions of responsibility who would quite happily allow it to just fade away.  They are doing a wonderful job of not letting us change anything.

Part of the problem is that the Organisation is going to be going through a restructuring at some point in the next year.  Almost every position above unit leader level (like mine) will essentially be up for redefinition and reappointment, meaning that, when it’s all done, everything could change.  In principle this is fine.  It’ll mean a few fewer Chiefs, but most of us Indians won’t notice.  In fact, given some of the members of senior staff in county office (lead cyclist included…), this could be a very good thing.

Unfortunately, everyone is using this as a reason not to make any changes to anything, as it might get changed back again later.

In my mind, this is a crap response.  We shouldn’t be leaving things in a bad way, just in case our changes prove pointless.  These things need changing now, not in however many months time, and I really think that this is contributing to our problems.  County management don’t seem to care, so why should we lowly people on the ground (or on wheels, if your that way inclined…)  There are a few of us trying to sort things out, but we keep getting fobbed off with this excuse, and it’s starting to get old…

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And now, after that little rant, a musical interlude inspired by Zemanta‘s suggested links and tags:

Or if you have Spotify: All Time Low – Forget About It

Watch out, the video isn’t strictly safe for work (assuming your work even allows YouTube).

Perhaps I could make this a new feature…

Pain Scores and Young Children

An important lesson I learned today while on duty.  There is very little point asking a small child for a pain score.

This particular little person had fallen down a couple of steps, and had been brought down to be checked over.  He didn’t have any pain anywhere significant (like the back of the neck), and neither did he seem to be in any particular distress.  Normal practice suggests that I then try and have him quantify his pain level, so that I can work out if there’s something more going on.  I go through the rigmarole of explaining ‘where 1 is next to nothing (as I gently poke him for demonstration) and 10 is the worst thing you have ever felt’, and his first answer “9″.  Now in my experience, people who have 9/10 pain and and show no signs of it have either been really lucky (and so 10/10 is relatively low), have an incredible pain threshold (but even so…) or might possibly be stretching the truth a little.  Looking at this little guy, his mother and I went for the latter.  So I asked him if he was really sure it was 9/10, and stressed how important it is to tell the truth.  So he now says 6, because that’s his age.  Cue much rolling of eyes from me, my crewmate and his mother, and I give up.

The important lesson here, I think, is that I had made the mistake of treating this child like a little adult, and tried to apply a technique aimed at adults to someone who didn’t really understand what I was asking, let alone why.  Children are not little adults, though it can be easy to forget this sometimes, and remembering this is important.

An Update

So, I think I should do a bit of an update.

I’m currently in the middle of my final ever exams at Uni. I’ve done one, and have another three to go. I’m a bit stressed, as you can imagine.

It goes without saying that all the depression and anxiety are acting up, with all the problems that entails, not least because I still haven’t got around to doing anything about it…

On the bright side, I have just received confirmation that I have a graduate job with a big engineering company, doing pretty much the engineering I think I want to do. How it pans out remains to be seen, but at least its something to go in to while I worry about everything else. My plan has always been to get a graduate job, and then see what happens next. I can still go into nursing (or something else) later if things don’t work out, and in the meantime I can build up my savings, ready to go back to uni if the need arises.

Typically, now I’ve got this all sorted, I’ve got my project supervisor pestering me about doing a PhD with the uni. I’ll admit, the idea is slightly attractive, but not enough to make me abandon my longterm plans. I can’t justify further expense that could be on a doctorate in something I’m not that interested in as a career ( and I have no desire to be an academic…)

With the Organisation, it feels like we’re on the verge of mutiny with the local Adults. One member (who I have already introduced as CycleGuy) has jumped ship to join my youth unit, and the feeling is growing that two more may be planning to leave.  To add to this, I have heard through the grapevine that the Adult leader may want a word with me about ‘stealing’ CycleGuy, after having both of us make it clear to him that the unit he held his membership at was his choice, and neither of I nor the Adult leader minded what he chose.  The fact that CycleGuy and I both found this out through a third member doesn’t help the matter.  Needless to say CycleGuy is slightly miffed (and I’m far from impressed).

I also know that CycleGuy (as well as HistStudent) wants to become my 2IC.  I am a little sceptical, mainly because I worry that he doesn’t have the Youth Work experience, but my alternative is HistStudent who I know (at a gut level that is difficult to explain in words) would be wrong for the position.  I have been putting off re-opening the position (long story…) because I can’t really face the interviews and the stress they’ll cause, but I don’t think it can wait any longer.  I could be off for good in a few months time (sad times ), and someone needs to know what to do if I go.

I think that’s a catch-up of everything that’s been going on over here.  I have an exam tomorrow, so I can’t stay up too much later.  Fortunately I’m reasonably confident about this one (at least, everything is making sense).

Ambulance Frustration

You’ve broken your arm, and you have my sympathy.  You were in quite a bit of pain, but the paramedic gave you a lot of nice drugs and you’re not feeling too shabby now.  You now need a trip to the local children’s hospital, not a short journey.

Because the paramedic has given you some drugs, the paramedic needs to come along.  Fair enough, one of the side effects of morphine is respiratory arrest, and so we need to have something like naloxone available just in case.  This isn’t a drug I can give, so the paramedic is needed.  Not a problem, we can take two in the back along with a patient.

Except, because you’re under 16, your mother also really needs to come along.  Again, this wouldn’t be a particular issue, if it was just you, and about a year ago it wouldn’t have been an issue even with the paramedic along (at least, not officially).

Unfortunately, someone cocked up the weighing of the vehicle, and we’re not really sure if the weight limit can take three people plus a patient in the back.  Counting a crew of two (driver and attendant), a patient, a parent and a paramedic, we’re over our limit, and only one person on the crew is expendable: the attendant.  Me.

Off my truck goes, and I’m left stood in the primary treatment centre, and I’m in a bit of a fix.  I can’t commit myself to a patient in the treatment centre, because I don’t know when my truck will be back and I’ll need to be available for that straight away.  I can’t transfer to another vehicle, this will leave someone else without a ride.  This leaves me unable to treat, unable to transport, and unable to really do anything.

My crew-mate eventually gets back, but it’s someone else’s turn to get a patient, and nothing else needs transporting.  We get a 999 call, which I could respond to, but it gets given to another crew (who’ve already dealt with and transported a patient) and they ignore us when my crew-mate and I ask them to swap.

Now I know this was just bad luck.  There wasn’t anything done that was unreasonable (though that last crew did annoy me), but that didn’t leave me any less frustrated.  I hadn’t seen a patient all weekend, and still haven’t seen any patient on an ambulance that has needed me to use my advanced skills, and given my continuing track record it’s going to be a long time before I do.  Combined with not being able to do NHS shifts any more, this leaves me wondering whether qualifying was actually worth the stress.

Of cause, this was then compounded by everyone else asking if I enjoyed my transport, and then overly lamenting when I tell them that I didn’t actually get to go on it.  Oh, and a Control officer going ‘had we known (which they did), we could have sorted something for you’, which irritated me, a lot.  Not to mention my friend going on and on and on about the people he’d treated that day, and not getting the hint that I had had a shit day and didn’t want to talk about it.

Still, I’ll probably be crewing during major duty season next year, so I might get something.

Or I might just get sat somewhere, bored out of my skull with an irritating crew mate.  Listening to everyone else being kept busy, and wishing I was out on a bike, getting to do something…