Well I’m at the conference, and they have WiFi, great speakers (people, not black boxes that pump out sound, although they aren’t to bad either) and a lot of very good ideas.  Unfortunately such is the nature of the complete info dump, I suspect that I’ll need to go away and ponder some of the stuff that people have been talking about.

If you go to Technorati and search for Reboot, then you’ll find that there are a huge amount of people blogging about this live.

What is weird is that people are recognising me…

Next up (after coffee and before I slide off my chair and collapse in a gently snoring lump on the floor) is a talk on the importance of blogging.

I just wish I’d remembered to bring the European adaptor for my laptop, that’ll teach me to be awake at silly o’clock in the morning.

There may be a slight decrease in the amount of posting going on over the next two or three weeks.  The reason behind this is because I shall be spending all my ‘free’ time in cleaning, decorating and moving into my new flat.

Tomorrow I fly out to Copenhagen for Reboot 07.  If you are out there, then feel free to walk up to me and say hello.

Last night was the London Geek Dinner, about 180 people turned up, and you can see some of the pictures that people have taken on this Flickr group.  What amused me was the number of these photographers saying such things as “Say ‘cheese’ for flickr”, or “You cannot escape Flickr”.  I’m the one in the very red shirt, now ask yourself if I specifically wore that shirt to get seen

It was a great night, and I spent some of it walking around offering free blood pressure checks (it’s a nice way of breaking the ice, and I’m a one trick pony, so I may as well do that trick…).

Now, I need to pack for my four days away, and then roll up my sleeves and start stripping wallpaper.

The car remained broken throughout the night, and the RAC man who came basically confirmed what my clever commenters suggested. I spent the whole night trying (and failing) to sleep on the station sofa, as there wasn’t a spare car for me to use.



The call was to someone who wasn't breathing.

I threw myself into the car, a quick look at the address, then I knew where I was going. I knew the best route, I knew how to avoid the worst of the traffic, and I knew I could make good time.

If she wasn't breathing, then my speed could save her life.

Blue lights were turned on, car was put into 'sport' mode (for better acceleration), trip counter zeroed and seatbelt on, I was ready to go.

I pulled out of the station, a quick look left and right, then left again showed no traffic. A couple of kids were standing outside the chicken shop on the corner - none of them were standing in the road (for once) so I made the sharp turn onto the road.

The first junction. Traffic here is forced into a single line - and drivers often don't see the blue lights as they concentrate on not hitting the parked cars. Thankfully there was no-one else on the road, so I turned right, and accelerated away.

The first hazard was the humpback bridge - visibility is poor, and while there is a crossing on top, kids sometimes cross just under the brow of the hill. The car hugs the road, which means that I can't see over the bridge until I'm already on top of it.

I ease off the accelerator, all clear - I gun the engine.

20, 30, 40 mph. I can see the next hazard, some shops leading up to the traffic lights at the junction. I slow down, right foot covering the brake pedal. A quick check, no-one is looking to cross the road, the car heading towards me has pulled over, and I have a free run to the junction.

And the red lights.

The siren goes on - it's loud, but the closed windows take away some of the sound. Light braking as I approach the junction, there is a queue of cars waiting for the lights (there always is) so I decide to take the wrong side of the road. I'm braking some more, it's a wide junction, so I can see what the other cars are doing. They are all waiting at the lights, the way is clear.

I swing the wheel round into a tight left turn, my folder and my bag shift in the passenger seat. The equipment in the back slides slightly, but are held in place by safety straps.

A good clear road, long and wide, just how I like them. I keep the siren going - it's sunny, and people might not see the lights. I pass the police station, a copper waves as he gets into his car. I wave back.

My eyes defocus, I don't know what I'm looking at, I try to take in the whole of the road and the pavement at once. Two kids on the right side of the road, but they are walking along, unlikely to interfere with me, one looks around at the sound of the siren.

A car ahead pulls out in front of me - can he not see me? He pulls over and lets me past as soon as he clears his turning. No matter, I had to bleed off some speed because I didn't know if he would pull out completely in front of me.

A slight hill. Visibility is less of a problem here, but I still can't go as fast as I'd like. I clear the hill - nothing, the road is clear and I power down towards the next junction.

More shops, more cars, the lights are with me, but I know this junction well - cars will often 'jump' the lights, so again, I'm forced to slow down.

I change the sound of the siren, it becomes more insistent, shriller. My eyes are still unfocused, I note the hazards - the woman with the pram looking to cross the road, the bus in front of me looking to pull away from the bus stop, the car waiting to turn right at the junction, the bike rider (is he weaving around a bit?).

Once more, my foot covers the brake, nothing changes, the woman waits on the kerb (good girl), the bus sits there (thanks mate), the car moves over slightly, clearing my way (good boy), the bike rider straightens up (excellent).

I'm through the junction, but the traffic gets heavier, I need people to pull over and let me pass. I have a choice - I can go down the bus lane, it's clear, but people can get confused and can pull in front of me. My other option, and the one I choose in a heartbeat is the middle of the road, forcing those on my side to pull into the bus lane, and those who can see me oncoming to pull over a little to let me pass.

I hear Obi-Wan Kenobi tell me to "Use the Force".

I go wide - trying to make myself as big and noticeable as possible. Lights and sirens, yellow and green livery I should be easy to see. Some people don't pull over, I make them pull over. Oncoming traffic gets out of my way, they can see me from all the way down the road. One man however thinks it clever to flash his headlights at me and try to play 'chicken'. Obviously I don't realise I'm driving down his side of the road.

I swear. I swear at him loudly, he can't hear me, but it makes me feel better.

He is making me slow down. He gets out of the way, he has no choice - I give him no choice.

I continue down the road, gradually I pick up speed as the traffic gets lighter. I'm constantly looking to see if any silly pedestrian wants to run out in front of me. If people weren't so daft I could drive faster.

Now for the problem road. I swing into the High street, traffic is extremely heavy, shoppers are crossing the road, there is barely room for two lines of traffic, let alone that magical third lane I need.

I change the siren, then change it again, then again. It's a strange sound, and it gets everyone's attention. Cars slowly try to get out of the way, a bus holds its distance. Someone decides that they can run across the road before I reach them. They are wrong, I have to jump on the brake, luckily I'm not going too fast. I swear some more, then start off again. My speed is slow, my driving has gone from speed to squeezing through gaps.

Don't look at the cars, or you'll hit them I think to myself. I concentrate on the gaps between cars, some are very small. On an instinctual level I know which gaps I can make, and which ones I need to sit behind the cars, lights flashing, sirens blaring, until they make the gap wider.

How did I get here? I'm turning into the street I need - it's one way and the way ahead is clear. I'm glad, once more the parked cars make it barely wide enough for a single car.

I'm counting the door numbers - I'm looking for number 112. Odds numbers on the left, evens on the right. 288, I speed up then slam on the brakes for a speed hump.

Again, again, again. I curse the people who think speed humps are a good idea.

186, more humps - I pray no children are hiding between the cars. 172, 162, 128.

I slow down. I'm trying to see the numbers, but some are small, and some are missing, while I'm doing this I'm trying not to drive into a parked car.

112.

The door is open.

I stop - there is nowhere to park, so I'm blocking the road, it can't be helped.

I grab my bags and run into the house.

"Where is she", I ask. My eyes are taking in the house, is there anyone laying

on the floor?

"It's me", comes the reply.

I breathe a sign of relief.

"I've had a cough for the past week and it hasn't gone yet", she tells me.

Another normal job for me then.


Not reflective of any one job, more a reflection on all my jobs

It's not my fault this time...

I'm going to a job (the first of the night), and all of a sudden the engine loses all power and stops.

"Erm, Control", I tell the radio, "I'm sorry, you'll have to cancel this call, I've broken down".

I manage to start the engine again, although a warning light remains on (don't ask me what it is, I know my car doesn't have it).

"Can you get back to station?", Control asks.

"Sure", I reply - I hope this warning light isn't the "GET OUT! Engine about to explode" symbol.

So I slowly make my way back to the station - Control are trying to find another car for me, or failing that, possibly some floors that need sweeping...

A couple of nights ago I got sent on a job to a 16 year old male. He was complaining of chest pain. That makes it a high priority call which warrants a Rapid Response Unit, and therefore my attendance.

The location was in the street, so I made my way there, and met a thin looking boy. Throughout the night I had been waiting a long time for ambulances (an hour and a half in one case - more on that in a later post), so I was aware that I would have to make small talk.

A quick examination and history from the patient revealed a cough, and that this was the cause of his chest pain. I then started chatting to him and found out his real problem.

He had left his familial home some time last year, and was living with a friend of the family. Then, two nights ago, he had been thrown out of that house. Too scared to go back to his mother and father, he was sleeping rough.

Skin and bone, with rotten teeth and poor skin, he had obviously been neglecting himself even before he was made homeless. I asked him about his diet, and he told me that it was junk food and a vitamin tablet. I suspect that he was living on cola and cigarettes, if not something stronger.

All while I was talking to him, he was polite, pleasant and respectful - something I don't often get from people his age.

He told me how he had fallen in with the wrong sort of people, and I realised that his chest pain was a call for help.

I decided that we needn't wait for the ambulance, and so loaded him into the car (Shhh...don't tell anyone, I'm not really supposed to do it), cancelled the ambulance and took him to the local hospital.

There are two types of nurses in the local hospital, those I trust to do the right thing, and those who seem to be marking the days until they can get out of there.

So I spoke to one of the nurses I trust, I told her all that I've just told you, and we both agreed that there was a serious need for some social services input. Thankfully the department didn't seem too busy, so I was happy that he wouldn't get forgotten. She is also the sort of nurse who will quite happily annoy the social services until they do something.

On the way out, the young man shook my hand and thanked me.

I don't often get thanked, especially by teenagers.

Sure, he didn't need an ambulance for his physical problems, his chest pain was nothing, and while he had a poor diet, it wasn't a medical emergency. But what he did need was access to people who would care for him, and would get him on the first steps of something that I hope will lead him away from trouble.

I go to a hell of a lot of alcoholics and drug addicts, they tend to start when they are young, and cruising the streets I see the men and women in their 30's who are spending the day drinking cheap cider, sitting on street corners and collecting their dole. It upsets me because they are ruining their lives.

I'm kind of hoping that we have managed to 'catch' this kid before he becomes one of them, and then becomes yet another of our 'regulars'.

Here is hoping.

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.

The Milk is in the Fridge.

I repeat.

The Milk is in the Fridge.

Now to try and sneak a nice cup of tea.

And for the last post, it's not that there aren't many pretty ambulance women, it's just that I don't know them... And the ones I do know are happily partnered up.

...And no sooner do I become available for another job than a get sent a mile away for another chest pain.

Once more, a lovely family (I hope this is going to be a habit), with the patient leaning up against his car as I arrived. A short assessment and it's unlikely to be his heart causing the problem, but a quick trip to hospital will rule out anything nasty.

A bonus on this job was seeing one of the prettiest ambulance women we have in the area at the moment...

Now...for that milk...

My second job of the shift is a 50+ year old male, who just happens to share my birthday.
He has been generally unwell for the past day or so, but has started getting angina-like chest pain.
Very, very nice man, and a lovely family, also, while he weighs 20 stone (his own admission), he also has a chair lift for his other medical problems.
A fairly simple "bog standard" job for the LAS, made even simpler by the nice family.

(Can you tell I often don't get nice family members?)

Now to try and get this milk back to station.

I've just gotten some milk for the station and chocolate (and some other, healthier foodstuffs) to see me through the night.
I've got to say, I love the way people doing their shopping stare as I walk past them in my uniform, clutching a shopping basket.
Not that I enjoy being the centre of attention, but the looks I get make me think that people are disappointed that us medical emergency types actually eat,
Try working a 12 hour shift without eating, and I think you'd find yourself a bit less able to deal with the stresses of the job.
A happy belly equals a happy EMT.

So my first job of the night was a 47 year old female with 'difficulty in breathing', she refused to talk to Control, so I fully expected someone like an alcoholic.
Instead she has neurological problems from a growth in the brain. The difficulty in breathing came from a mixture of a fairly mild cough and a panic attack.
So a genuine patient, if not for the reason that I was called, then for the need to be reassured.
Not a 'bad' job at all for a Friday night.

I was right - my name was on the board, but not on the computer.

How many seconds do I have before they send me a job?

And to think...I only owned up so I could keep you lot entertained with something other than "I'm asleep now", "I'm even more asleep", and, "This sofa is really uncomfortable to sleep on".

No jobs yet, I have a suspicion that although I have told Control that I am working, they may have forgotten to put me on the main computer.

So my options are as follows...

a) Sit on station, have something to eat, have a sleep and if they continue to ignore me, have a restful night.

b) Let guilt get the better of me - give Control a ring and then spend the rest of my night actually working...

Guess I'm going to be phoning Control then...

It's PURPLE!

Actually it looks quite nice at the moment, although the smell of paint won't be helping my headache.
The weather as I was driving into work was, as us Londoners put it, "bucketing it down". This is good for me, as people seem to be less likely to beat each other around the head in pubs when there is heavy rain...

And as I type this, the rain stops...

There seems to be a bit of a server problem at the moment, resulting in double postings and missed postings... Just when I'm going to be sendings things into the ether hoping they are going to work.

So, after many headaches involving Housing offices, road closures and various other minor (but still annoying) problems, I got to look at my prospective new dwelling place.



It's actually rather nice, and I think I'll take it.



The location itself isn't brilliant (but I have a car), and it's a bit smaller than my current place, but it does have one good point in its favour...



...a loftspace.



Perfect for hiding away all my crap.



So, dear reader, prepare yourself for a stream of moaning as I move house (sometime after Copenhagen mind you).



Two and a half hours until I have to be in work. And I'm knackered already.

Well, as promised, here is the first of the many posts I shall be making over the next 18 hours or so.  We’ll see how interesting it is.

I do however have a slight problem, my plan for the first of my nightshifts is to slouch around the flat, doing very little so that I have plenty of energy for the night.  But that plan has gone up in smoke.  As you may know I’m having to leave my current flat (because they are knocking down the whole block), and today the council have given me the opportunity to look at my ‘first choice’ of flat.

I’m not too enamoured with it’s location – and I have a feeling it’s going to be a lot smaller than my current place.  I don’t see why I should have to start selling my possessions just so I can move to a smaller place (for probably the same amount of rent).

Unfortunately, I’m stuck with the council housing me at the moment, as there is no way I can afford a place to live in London (not even via keyworker initiatives).

So the next post will hopefully have some pictures of this potential living space.

Then I’ll probably need to go back to the council and talk about my options – either way it doesn’t set me up that well for tonights shift.

So I took my mother to see Derren Brown last night, and it was a very good show, spoilt perhaps only by how long it took to set up each ‘trick’.  The time was needed because of the whole “throw a monkey around the audience, and on the third throw, that’s who we’ll pick”, that happened before each segment in order to prove that there was no ‘stooge 'involved.

And if my mum hadn’t lied about not believing in psychic powers, then I could have had the immense pleasure of seeing her hypnotised on stage…

There was a part in the show (and I’m keeping details away from this post, because there are some folks who want to see it, and I don’t want to spoil any of the surprise), where he asked for female healthcare people to volunteer.  I was most upset, as the trick that followed totally blew my tiny little mind.

It involves glass…

He did two tricks that I’ve been known to do myself, but which had the audience in rapt attention, and the rest of his act was stuff from the TV show and completely new material.

It was an excellent night, and I would recommend it to anyone who has even the slightest interest in his TV programme.

Today I had a couple of drinks with Zinnia of the excellent Real E Fun, if she were a man, I’d describe her as a ‘top bloke’, but I’m not sure what the feminine equivalent is.  Much of interest was discussed, and she got to see just how militant us ambulance people are when we stumbled across a station-mate of mine and he gave me some frightening news.

The station is being painted…

…in purple!

And the new carpet will be red!

I sense some upcoming trouble on that score, probably revolving about people bringing their own paint and paintbrushes in from home.

Tomorrow I’m back on nightshifts – so I thought I’d do another “hourly update” set of entries (technology permitting).  It might be really dull, or it could be full of violence and murder.  We’ll have to see.