| |
Have you had a trip in an Out-patients' collection ambulance lately? I wouldn't recommend it, as I always arrive at the hospital hours late for my appointments and slightly traumatised. The journey is far worse than anything that happens to one in Out-Patients (with the possible exception of a thoroughly disorientating hour, squeezed in an MRI capsule for scan from head to below knee ~ and I am rather large!)
Ambulance drivers in rural areas seem to concentrate solely on getting from A to B as fast as possible. Commendable for emergencies but, on narrow, twisting country lanes, it's horrendous, with some passengers inclined to travel sickness, or in pain! The tendency to drive withy foot hard down on either accelerator pedal or brakes with much lurching round corners (and there are many round here), causes unfortunate passengers to wobble in their seat belts like puppets on strings.
I regret that I have added to the driver's difficulties. On one occasion, the driver was a very slight woman, about half my size. I couldn't manage to step on up onto the very high single step, nor walk up the ramp at the rear. My entry on a wheelchair had a similarity to those fair-ground "Test Your Strength" side-shows, where contestants hammer with all their force in an attempt to make the bell ring. Our little cameo consisted of a lone, small ambulance driver having to push a heavy patient in a wheelchair (me) up the ramp and into the ambulance. At the first attempt, she failed to get more than 4/5ths of the way up. I found myself suddenly and speedily in reverse, and trying not to giggle.
Because I was higher up the ramp, heavier and on wheels, it occurred to me that my own velocity could well be the greater and I might even run her over! (I am inclined to be dramatic ~life's much more fun this way!) We were almost halfway down the road before she managed to stop. As I couldn't see her face, I couldn't judge what she was thinking and decided I'd better not make a quip.
She wasn't going to let it happen a second time, because we arrived inside the ambulance excitingly fast, watched by very silent, worried passengers. The bell didn't ring, but there was a long drawn-out whispering sigh all round ~ or was that just the suspension groaning?
Later, at the first drop-off, the side exit-door machanism failed. Apparently, this is fairly usual. The driver calml;y removed the thick rubber seal from round the door and then, usinga large wrench, she yanked and fumbled until the locking ratchet was released and the door could open again.
We finally arrived at the hospital I needed, after dropping off all other passengers at various points along the way, but there I stayed. This time, the driver couldn't single-handedly lift my wheelchair up over the door-sill. She went to fetch some assistance first.
My initial impression of Mr L. (Consultant plastic surgeon) was of a tall, thin, cold and abrupt man. My apologies! I soon realised that he was cool,concise and considered, but NOT cold. After a silence while he peered at my BCC (Basal Cell Carcinoma), he declared, "A Zig-zag" should do it!" Off he went, leaving me with viusual images of old B&W movies, with Tyrone Powell fencing on the battlements in his big girl's blouse. With the tip of his rapier, he rips his opponent's shirt and lightly scratches a Z for Zorra. I doubted that was what Mr. L. had in mind for me!
My G.P. explained that a 'zig-zag' consists of highly-skilled, technically difficult, geometrically precise cuts, in which the long triangular, horizontal flaps are folded over and later sutured vertically. Although this leaves a slightly bumpy surface, it gives a strong repair in a difficult position. Twixt mid-nose and corner of eye is not an auspicious location!
During surgery, a 'flap' was required to be taken from my forehead. Despite local anaesthetic, I was requested not to frown, which surprised me as I was 'frozen'. I was also asked to 'release' my left eye, which was particularly important when it came to the suture put in right at the very edge of my eyelid. I heard Mr.L. instruct his assistant, "don't take the seemingly obvious, easy line here, or the eye will end up misshapen." Bless you, Mr L ~ I wouldn't for one moment have wanted to swap you for Zorro.
The return ambulance journey had different problems, but with the bonus of a Care Technician (because I had just come from surgery) as well as the driver. He came to collect me before I was fully recovered from the anaesthetic and the nurse made him wait. When I
finally entered the ambulance, I was glared at by irritated passengers, annoyed at being kept waiting. It was like a cartoon charachterisation, with their heads all at the same angle and beady eyes glaring. Although still 'out of it' ~ physically unable to giggle or converse, this didn't prevent my huge inner smile.
I was amazed to see that all the notices, instructions and warnings in this particular ambulance were printed in Welsh. DIM YSKYMYGU means NO SMOKING. Apparently, it was a hired-in contract ambulance to assist our local over-worked ambulance service. Neither driver nor care technician knew the area and constantly used a mobile phone requesting computerised directions.
One of the passengers was old Mr. G, in his 90's who lived at a residential home. We duly arrived there, and poor Mr G. kept shaking his head, flapping his arms, making unintelligible sounds and becoming highly agitated. The Care Technician finally asked for Mr. G's hospital papers. Stupidly, there was also another residential home in the area with exactly the same name! Mr. G. finally ended up at his rightful home.
On arrival back at my own home, I was exhausted and went straight to sleep. Next morning, an insistent bladder woke me. I stretched out a hand to switch on the bedside light. A wasted effort! My eyelids were firmly stuck together and I couldn't see a thing! A post-anaesthetic 'dry mouth' meant that I could barely find any saliva to clean my eyes of gunge.
Pissed off ~ disorientated ~ stuck up. Life runneth over ~ minus a cup!
I declared a State of Emergency ~ and just got on with it! At my next check-up, I was amazed to hear that I now had an eyelash midway down the left side of my nose!
|
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
|
 |
|
|
|
Select a Random Work
from Stories
|
|
Welcome !
