Ambulance stories (5)

~ beetleypete

The missing leg

It doesn’t matter how much experience you have, you can still miss something. At the time referred to in this job, I had around 15 years experience working in emergency ambulances, and my colleague that night was also no new boy, having been in the job for about 10 years. So, with 25 years service between us, you think that we could get it all right, without schoolboy errors.

That night had been busy. Weekends usually were busier, especially in Central London. We found ourselves at the Accident and Emergency Department of St. Thomas’s Hospital, just south of Westminster Bridge, opposite the Houses of Parliament. This was not one of our usual haunts, but the level of work that night had pushed us across from West London, and we had finally ended up here. As soon as we became available, we received a call . It sounded serious, a motorcycle had hit a pedestrian, and there were three casualties.

The Police had also closed the road, which was Victoria Embankment, an arterial route around London beside the river. Luckily, it was very near, just across the bridge, so we arrived in a couple of minutes. There was a man lying motionless in the road, and a bit further along, a large BMW motorcycle was on its side, with two crash-helmeted figures lying nearby. The Police told us that the motorcyclists were father and son, and the son had been on the pillion; they were injured, but both conscious, so we should concentrate on the pedestrian. We called for more ambulances to attend, and went to examine the man in the road.

What we saw, was a well dressed man, wearing a dinner jacket and bow tie. He was tall, about 6 feet 4 inches, and had a large build. He also only had one leg. Removing part of  his trouser leg with scissors, we could see that the leg had been ripped off with some force, probably from contacting a part of the fast moving motorcycle, and was missing from about four inches above the knee. The man was also unconscious, had poor vital signs, and there was an obvious head injury. Our main concern was the loss of blood from the traumatic amputation of the leg. There was a small river of the stuff running from underneath the man, leading down into the kerb; so, no time to mess around.

My colleague set up an infusion, and I applied a large dressing, incorporating a bag of ice, kindly supplied by the nearby Savoy Hotel. We got the victim into the ambulance, connected oxygen, drip bag, and monitor, then put in a radio call, to tell St. Thomas’s that we would be there very soon, with a serious case. I asked a policeman where the detached leg was. He hadn’t seen it, he replied. Frantic requests to his colleagues produced the same answer, nobody on scene had seen the missing leg, or had even thought to look for it. A cursory search was made in the immediate area, but we did not have time for niceties, so would have to go without the leg, losing any chance of it being re-connected later, if found. I asked the other ambulance crews, who had arrived to tend to the motorcyclists, to look out for it, as and when they got the chance, and we left at great speed, making the short journey back to the hospital.

On arrival, we were met by the trauma team, who wasted no time getting the poor man straight into the Resuscitation Room. I sheepishly told the staff that we had not brought the other leg, as we had not managed to find it. They were not too concerned, as he had deteriorated rapidly, and they would have to work fast to save his life. As they began to remove his clothes, one of the nurses had difficulty with the cummerbund, which was wrapped tightly around his waist. I proffered my large shears to help, and she cut through it with ease. As she did so, something fell out of his shirt, crashing heavily onto the floor. It was his other leg.

Amazingly, the impact had not only severed the leg, it had been forced back up the trouser leg, wrapping around his waist, giving the appearance of a pot belly. In all the excitement, and the adrenaline rush of a serious accident, none of us had noticed. You couldn’t make it up if you tried.

I don’t know what happened to the man, but he was not expected to live, and I very much doubt that he did. Fortunately, the matter of the missing leg was immaterial to the outcome.

44 thoughts on “Ambulance stories (5)”

    1. The only time something like that ever happened to me, Abbi. We felt a bit silly at the time, after apologising to the staff for being unable to find the leg at the scene. 🙂
      Best wishes, Pete.

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    1. We must have sounded quite callous on occasion, I’m sure. But if we hadn’t found something to laugh about, we might have become seriously withdrawn.
      Best wishes, Pete.

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  6. Yikes – Your stories certainly imparts a much better understanding of what the ambulance people have to deal with – so gruesome and sad. It must be challenging to come home and relax after a day at work. You couldn’t make this up – it’s just mind bending. Poor man.

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    1. Much of the job was routine, as I have outlined in other ambulance story posts. Naturally, the ‘memorable jobs’ never leave you though. Some of my colleagues suffered real PTSD issues, but I managed to avoid that. Writing about it helps, undoubtedly. 🙂
      Best wishes, Pete.

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  7. Goodness! I think I’m speechless. Did you only find out about what happened to people if you returned to the hospital you took them? I’d find it difficult not being able to follow up and find out.

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  11. Goodness Pete, you have seen some things. I couldn’t have done your job, although I was a first aider at work for many years and came across some injuries you wouldn’t expect working in an office environment.

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    1. Workplace first-aiders are often called upon to deal with some nasty stuff, especially in the construction industry. They are also usually first on scene for a cardiac arrest. I doubt I would ever have offered to do that. I did it as a job I got paid to do, and saw it very much as ‘work’. 🙂
      Best wishes, Pete. x

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  12. Considering the gruesome nature of the post, I found it a very well written account Pete. Thank you. When you think about it, it is amazing how many people we interact with for a brief period of time and are left wondering whatever happened to them.

    My blog is starting slowly to take shape, although I am nowhere near to setting it free to the big world yet. So, I’m going to continue to follow your musings Pete, as I also find them most insightful in terms of form and layout. Hat tip to you sir!

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    1. Thanks, MBS. If you are enjoying my blog, and getting some ideas and tips, then that is very pleasing to hear.
      As for those brief interactions, I recall the comment of an Emergency Room doctor, on a documentary about Cook County Hospital, in Chicago. “I spend 15 minutes of my time in the worst day of that patient’s life, then I move on”.
      Best wishes, Pete.

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  13. I was about to click the ‘Like’ button, but that’s not quite what I feel about this interesting but rather gruesome post. It must be one of many.

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    1. Yes, there is a whole category on this blog dedicated to similar (though often less gruesome) stories about my days in the ambulances in London. 🙂
      Best wishes, Pete.

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    1. Before we joined up, very few of us had seen more than a cut finger. Not everyone stood it during training, but most did. You wear the uniform, take the pay, so you just turn up and get on with it. It is only much later that you ever really think about what you did, Alex.
      Best wishes, Pete.

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    1. We never got to the bottom of what happened with that job, Olga. It was so busy, we just got another job immediately after, and didn’t get back to the same hospital at all. I suspect the motorcyclist was speeding excessively, as the large motorcycle was smashed almost beyond recognition.
      Best wishes, Pete.

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