The cat is indeed, out of the bag. Ambulance personnel across the Complex know that I blog, they worked out my nom-de-plume (the only 'falsehood' on this site) mainly because of a picture or two of myself I have on the site. So far the response has been along the lines of "You want to take that picture down, you look like you've just escaped from the Day Hospital", and someone wrote a vaguely negative comment in my last post, to which a tonne of very nice people leapt to my defence.

I figured it would happen at some point - a few people knew about it a while ago, but kept it their little secret, so I have been prepared for this day. I've actually been prepared for it since I started posting about my ambulance work, so very little, if anything will change on this site.

I've added a little "these views are mine alone, not those of the LAS" to the intro over on the right of the page - it's always been implicit, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to make it explicit.

I've always maintained confidentiality, both of patients and of staff, trusts don't normally get that privilege because they need to be held accountable for the things they do. I've deleted one post that could have possibly identified a member of staff - it wasn't an important post, but I thought that it came too close to crossing the line that I have set myself.

I'm convinced that this blog shows the LAS, and the NHS in a generally good light - I do tend to fixate on the negative side of things, so I may try to be a bit more upbeat in the future in order to provide a bit of balance. This promise may be unlikely to be kept...

I don't think that "Da Firm" is going to try and make me stop blogging, if only because they tolerate the "Big White Taxi Service" website and forum, and I believe that there is some subtle use of that site and forum to understand exactly what the road-crews think of various issues. I have at least one very smart person who has volunteered to defend my blogging should management try to stop me. Although if they did try to stop me, I'd blog about it, and I think it would greatly increase my page hits...

I'm going to keep writing under the name Tom Reynolds, I'm kind of used to it, and people know me by that name anyway. Tom is my middle name and I prefer it to my actual forename. And my mum will hate me for saying that...

I fully expect to be called a wanker by some people in the service - but I would imagine that those would be the people who haven't actually read this site, and were just hearing rumours about it. That and I am fairly thick-skinned. My crew-mate knows about the site, although I don't think that he has read it himself, but he is supportive of my writing. I'll soon let you know if I get called into the office though...

For the next seven days, I am working shifts from 16:00 to midnight, and as an exercise I shall be keeping a tally of people who's illness or injury is caused by alcohol. On these shifts it is often half our calls that are related in some way to drink, and by publicly keeping count, I fully expect the universe to toy with me and make sure that none of my patients are drunk - so that I look like an idiot.

But I doubt it.

It looks like the first case of 'granny dumping' of the season. Every year, around this time, families will do their best to get their elderly relatives admitted to hospital. I've personally see quite a few cases of it. It isn't helped that, because no-one wants to get sued for sending someone home who isn't suitable to be discharged, people are sometimes admitted for 'social reasons'. This ties up hospital beds in acute wards because the patient has nowhere else to go.

It is a sad state of affairs - and in this case I would want to see the family prosecuted, if only because I think Oldchurch is an awful hospital...

I'm back at work, and it's 4am on a grotty Thursday morning. Our Control contacted us and told us that we had a job to go to, while she was telling us this the dispatcher kept apologising, so I knew it was going to be a rubbish job. We got a Category 'A' call to a man who is "Not alert, severe respiratory distress, unable to talk properly, intoxicated". So we race around to the bus garage that the call came from, to find three, very well looking people standing around talking.
Apparently our patient (who is as fit as a fiddle, and not even that drunk) managed to fall asleep at the bus station while waiting for his nightbus, and another man became concerned and called for an ambulance. Luckily for the caller, I was driving - and so I didn't ask him why the hell he told our control that the patient had severe difficulty in breathing, or why he thought that calling an ambulance was a good idea. The patient didn't want to go to hospital, and wondered if we could give him a lift home (his home is about six miles away) and when we said we couldn't take him home, the patient decided to wait for his bus , much to the surprise of the caller.

Once more, a bystander/good samaritan is confused and frightened by someone who is asleep - and that they believe that this warrants an ambulance, and then when we turn up they try to tell us that the person 'needs to be in hospital'. I would be mortified if anyone called an ambulance for me whenever I fell asleep on the train/bus/tube.

Can I also ask that if you phone an ambulance because you are having a baby - can you at least wait the 11 minutes it takes us to traipse across our area to reach you, before making your own way to hospital. This is especially true if it is five o'clock in the morning. Either wait for us, or make you own way to hospital without waking my crewmate up from his sleep on the sofa.

This is the final post about my Toronto trip - I'm back on night shifts for a bit, so if you are lucky I'll have to pick up something other than a drunk/unwell child/maternataxi, and will therefore have something interesting to post about.

As I believe I mentioned before, the trip to Toronto was great. There were a load of great people that I met, essentially because of this blog, and I'd like to thank them all for making the trip so enjoyable. I'd like to thank Joey for letting me come to his party and somehow arranging two wild racoons to turn up in his garden for me to look at - also I'd like to thank Eldon and a couple of others who reminded me that it would be a bad idea to try and stroke those same racoons. I'd like to thank those who took me to the 'secret swing', and let me know about the first of the two Canadian laws I broke on the duration of the trip. I'd like to thank Andrew for the ex-pat information, and the drinks before I flew back, it was nice to see someone who remembered London before it all went wrong. I'd also like to thank Jovanna and her family and friends for a lovely breakfast. I'd also like to thank Jovanna and her friend (who's name I have rather shamefully forgotten) for the tour they gave me 'backstage' at the Royal Ontario Museum, I never knew that Egyptian mummies weren't stored in hermetically sealed hi-tech boxes, but instead were wrapped in a bit of plastic. I saw some very interesting items stored there, and even got to smell some mummified crocodiles - and they smelt quite a bit like some of the houses I get called to.

I'd like to apologise to Lee for not being able to meet with her, but our schedules just clashed, perhaps next time, or if she ever comes to London I can make it a point to see her.

I was impressed by the cleanliness of the streets (although apparently the Toronto inhabitants are up in arms about a recent increase in street rubbish), I was also impressed by what seems a genuine desire to recycle rubbish - possibly due to recent changes in how their rubbish is disposed.

I never managed to get to talk to an ambulance crew - when I visited the hospital there were no ambulances there, and then I got escorted off the premises by a very polite security guard, who appeared within seconds of me getting my camera out. I only saw one ambulance, and that was driving along the street, but I did see a couple of fire trucks running on blues. On this evidence alone I'd suggest that Torontonians are a bunch of healthy arsonists.

The flight back was not as bearable as the flight over - there was a two year old child who insisted on crying throughout most of the trip, the food was awful, I was in a middle seat, the in-flight entertainment was a bleeding awful 'chick-flick' and the legroom was a lot less.

But the plane landed safely, which is always a bonus - and the final tube ride home was uneventful.

I would like to offer drinks, and a tour of a local ambulance station for anyone who I met during those few days who may find themselves in London - I appreciate everything that you folks did, and I apologise for anyone who I have forgotten about, and haven't mentioned here.

I'm typing this in an internet coffee shop that is connected to the hotel, and I'm here waiting to meet up with an ex-pat called Andrew before I fly out later this evening. The computers here are awful, and security is even worse (they have removed the 'Start' button from the toolbar, but typing "C:" into Internet Explorer brings up the root drive... Fear my L33t hacking skills).

I'll do a proper post about my time here after I get home, but to do a quick summary - Toronto is a really nice place, the people are great and I had a fun time. It was weird to finally meet Joey, and I realised just how insane I was to travel halfway across the globe to meet a bloke I only know from the internet, and a huge number of people who didn't know me at all.

(Thankfully there was the social lubricant of beer available, so I was only uncomfortable for a bit - more on the party, and the other people I've met here in my next post).

I have drunk way too much coffee, and walked for miles (so much so that at one point I couldn't get out of bed...) I now have an eight hour flight to get back to London at 6:30am. Then I shall sleep, before doing a couple of night-shifts. See how easily I slip back into my normal life from the lifestyle of an international traveller.

So, more later, assuming my plane doesn't want to pretend it's a submarine and plunge into the Atlantic.

(Can you tell I'm nervous flyer?)

Well, I didn't die on the flight over, and it was actually more pleasant than I expected it to be - there was more legroom that I am normally used to, and the food was actually approaching edible.

You will, I'm afraid, have to put up with my lack of spell checking, and even editing - as I am writing this on one of those '$3 for an hour of Internet' shops. At least it lets me check my email.

The weather is much like Londons at the moment, perhaps a bit more of a bite to the wind, although I do note that Torontonions (is that right?) seem to wrap up warmed than those in the UK, is this intelligence on their part, as they are less bothered by fashion, and more bothered with keeping warm.

Talking about fashion, I can't tell who the homeless beggars are, everyone seems to have a cup of coffe, and in London walking around holding a cup is reserved for people who are begging for money.

The people here are really friendly, I'm yet to work out if I am supposed to answer shop staff when they ask me how I am. The hotel in which I am staying has a very 1970's feel, which I find comforting somehow. I also find it amusing that I can watch TV episodes before they start in the UK...

Talking of which - I recommend that when 'The Incredibles' opens in your part of the world, you should go and see it - it's a great film, from the design of the characters and sets, to the musical cues. And the name of one of my City of Heroes characters is used. (Geeky I know, but it really is a good film).

I walked past Joey's house this morning, so I know I can find it tomorrow night. Toronto itself, is a little like East London (big ethnic mix, downtown is full of little shops that do all sorts of things), and the Isle of Dogs, with their tower blocks and very wide streets. These wide streets may mean I get to see the inside of an ambulance in a not-so-good way, because the cars all drive on the 'wrong' side of the road. The McDonalds here though are awful, they seem to be full of drunks, madmen and the homeless, and the meals don't taste as good as the McD's in London.

I am, as they say, enjoying myself...

I've managed to get to Heathrow without any trouble, and am now logged on to a T-Mobile hotspot. Musty say, I don't like the way you buy your 'hours' as when the transaction is complete it sends you back to the original 'but hours' screen, which may make some people think that the transaction has failed.

Unlike the last time I flew, I'm actually quite relaxed about the whole thing, even if it means spending eight hours in a cramped tin can that could turn into a flaming ball of death at any moment. Maybe it is because this time I'm not running massively late, and the only person I have to worry about is myself, and not my mother/brother.

Now...I am in severe need of some Dutch courage, so I am now off to prop up the bar at O'Neill's for a bit.

A week can be a long time, especially if you are working a week of late shifts starting at 6pm and finishing around 3am the next day starts to wear on your sanity a bit - and I have the scientific proof...

Take a look at last Tuesdays post, a jokey little post, followed on Wednesday by another rather upbeat posting. On Thursday (after only one shift), I'm moaning about the type of people who are calling me out for minor illness (and a moan about Christmas). Then on Friday I moan about being sent into dangerous situations, and I tell you that I want to hurt people if they annoy me. On Saturday I can't even be bothered to write a full post, and just tell you about even more stuff being stolen from the LAS.

Sunday, I can't be bothered to post at all.

And finally on Monday I have an excessively whiny post about, strangely enough, whiny people.

In 'real life', I had my 'decamp' interview yesterday, after a scant four hours sleep. It turns out that when I get moved from my current flat (nice flat, just surrounded by scrotes, drunks and drug addicts) I shall almost certainly end up with a much smaller property. If I were a teenager I'd post up some angsty bit of poetry - so be thankful I'm too old for that sort of stuff.

Today, I'm bleedin' knackered, and I feel like I need a revitalising break. This is rather good timing as I fly out to Canada tomorrow. Hopefully, when I get back I won't be quite so eager to stab people in their eyes with my pen because they live in a nicer flat than me, and quite obviously don't deserve it.

During this little break, I shall be doing my best to check my email , and I may even manage an update or two while I am away. But I wouldn't hold your breath, for I may just find myself very drunk and laying in a Toronto gutter. If you are in Toronto between then and Tuesday you can always phone me on +00447903257650

Back sometime on Tuesday...

Halloween is a funny time of year over here in Blighty. We celebrate it, but not in the same way that Americans do - we tend to show a scary movie (or Planet of the Apes), on telly, we have some drunken parties where women dress up like naughty witches, and men like Harry Potter, we even have a few kids running around setting fire to stuff (trick without the option of treat) and we also have stabbings and whiny people.

Last night, after talking to a few crews, I can report that our time was spent rushing between people who had very little wrong with them, but who insisted on rolling around on the floor, crying at the drop of a hat, and refusing to talk to the ambulance crews who just wanted to find out why they were acting like a dying swan. Seriously - if you, or someone else calls an ambulance, when the crew ask you a few questions in order to form a diagnosis, answer them. Rolling around on a bed trying your best to look like you have been stabbed up the arse with a hot poker is no way to behave when you have had a chest infection for the past week. Yes, you may have had the same "excruciating" abdominal pain for three days, but pretending you can't walk (when you are obviously not laying in pools of your own waste, and therefofe must had been visiting the toilet), and having put on make-up for the trip to the hospital, is not going to endear you to the ambulance crew, neither will you refusing to take the painkiller that we are trying to give you.

It doesn't help that they all lived in really nice areas, in really nice flats/houses, with no urine in the lifts, and must get paid much more than I do - while I (for the moment) live in a complete rat-hole, where people urinate in the corridors and burn their own flats to get moved somewhere else. I think it is safe to mention "Reynolds Law Of The Ability To Handle Pain", where the more expensive the house that I pick someone up from, the more whining I get from the patient, and the less sympathy I feel toward said patient.

Between attending to these people who would probably need three days bed-rest for a broken fingernail, we had a steady stream of stabbing/beating/serious RTAs. I went to a 19 year old whom someone had decided to "make stabby" on. He had been stabbed in the head, the chest and the abdomen. Luckily for him they were all fairly shallow wounds, but not wanting to poke down wound tracks in a grocers shop at night, we blued him into the local hospital anyway.

This seemed to be the pattern for the other crews on the complex, there was an RTA where the driver had a hole the size of a fist in the back of his leg, plus an open fracture of his Tib and Fib (lower leg-bones), there was a drunk bloke who looked like Quasimodo after being beaten, a couple more minor beatings, another stabbing, and a little old woman who was pouring blood from her back passage. All interspersed with the sort of people who you wanted to clump around the back of the head and tell them to buck up their ideas, and get over it.

So I suppose that in our own way, we do celebrate Halloween - by moaning and by trying to kill each other...