You may remember a little while ago I did a post about “How to blog without losing your job”.  Well someone suggested that I turn it into a “ChangeThis” manifesto.

So I proposed it.

Now it needs votes.

So if you are feeling kind, pop over the here to cast your vote, thereby making me work on my computer even more.

Which is a good thing, because doing this sort of thing keeps me off the streets and out of trouble.

My final job (because the lovely man who is relieving me has just turned up) was an 'assault, assailant has left the scene'.
There he was, 6 foot of Eastern European laying face down on the floor snoring, and smelling heavily of booze.

"Been drinking?", I ask (shouting).

"Yes" he says.

No signs of assault, I left him in the tender care of the ambulance crew.

Now home, to bed and sleep.

Then I'll reply to some of the comments people have left.

Nighty night.

I've just spent the last 50 minutes with a little old lady (93), who had been vomiting since 3am. An emergency GP was called, but decided not to come, instead telling the warden of the patients flat to dial 999 for an ambulance.

The patient was a little darling, she wasn't confused, she got around on her own and generally looked after herself and was a real pleasure to talk to. Then I looked down her nursing notes and saw that she had just finished palliative therapy for cancer.

At 5am in the morning that'll choke me up everytime.

So we sat and chatted about all manner of nonsense until an ambulance was free to take her to hospital.

Why did I have to wait so long for an ambulance? Well there was another sick person at that building, and an ambulance was required about 10 doors down the road.

Coincidence?

Once more (midwives, NHS Direct and now an emergency GP) it seems that the ambulance service are the only people who actually try to do our job these days. We, and the A&E seem to be the 'safety net' that all the other sevices rely on to get out of doing any actual work.

It's a quarter to six in the morning, perhaps I should stop moaning and instead start thinking about my lovely warm, comfortable bed.

45 minutes to go...

27 year old female with indigestion, she phoned NHSDirect, NHSDirect told them to phone the ambulance service.

Therefore a category A, high priority response.

The jealousy is purely because her and her boyfriend can afford an absolutely gorgeous flat in a lovely location. While I (currently) live in a craphole.

The entire place is full of 'beautiful people' with posh cars.

That I was woken up from a peaceful nap didn't help things.

It's important in these situations to maintain your professionalism.

(and let the ambulance crew who got there before you do all the talking).

I'm asleep. Bugger off for a bit will you?

It's that time of the night (around 2:30) when I start to get tired, my eyes get sore, and I have to make the decision.

Sleep, or Stimulant.

It is this simple question, do I make myself a cup of tea, expecting another job - or do I throw myself on the rather uncomfortable sofa and hope for a rapid, yet possibly refreshing sleep?

I think I'll hedge my bets and try both at the same time.

For a bonus Karma Point, what song/band is this posts title in reference to?

W00t!

My first alcoholic 'chest pain' of the night.
The chest pain is nothing of the sort. Instead he is drunk, bored and on bail for thumping his wife.

Life is back to normal on the mean streets of East London.

I'm going to have to explain to my mum what 'W00t!' means now...

Last patient gives me a new definition of unconscious.

"refusing to move or talk after having argument with girlfriend".

Although to be fair, I think there is some form of underlying psychiatric problem. But at this time of the night, you aren't going to get a mental health assessment.

"Can you pop along to Westferry road", asks Control, "the fire brigade have reported an overturned car".
"Of course", I replied, thinking there would be something interesting to blog about.
I race down there, and indeed there is a car on its side - but the driver has run off.

Bugger.

So a crew (not me, I'm relaxing on station) get called to a woman who is 38 weeks pregnant, and was mugged.

Her mobile phone was demanded from her, and after she gave it over, the attacker then punched her so hard in the stomach that her waters broke. He is only stopped from kicking her in the stomach because someone comes out of a nearby house.

I try not to swear on this blog...

The crew turn up, and take the patient to the local hospital to the maternity department.

They pre-warn the unit to meet them, as they keep their doors locked at night.

So why, when they turned up, were the doors still locked? The excuse from the *idiot* midwife?

"I forgot to tell anyone".

Followed by,

"We haven't got any beds".

It's not bad enough that some scumbag purposefully attacked a pregnant woman, but then the people who are supposed to help her don't seem to give a damn.

The crew involved have put in a report about it, as this isn't the first time this has happened. Sometimes it seems that we are the only people doing our job properly.

Quite rightly the crew are spitting mad about the whole thing and are determined to do something about it.