london ambulance service

An Alphabet Of My Life: A

~ beetleypete ~ 66 Comments

A=Ambulances

An obvious choice of course. Until I retired in 2012, I spent over one-third of my life working in emergency ambulances as an EMT in Central London. Up to the time I left in 2001, being an ambulanceman defined me. From having to work shifts, to being a union organiser, and dealing with things every working day that most people will never see in their lifetimes.

Even now, almost 21 years after I worked my last shift in an ambulance, that experience lives on. It lives on in my dreams, my attitudes, my life in retirement. It is more than a job, even though at the time it was ‘just a job’. It is an unforgettable experience that makes you feel part of something that so few people outside of medical and emergency workers really understand. Being present at historical events that will long be remembered, or doing as something as simple as to put a dead man back into bed to give him some dignity in death.

In some ways, it was a thankless occupation. The management treated us badly, many members of the public thought it was acceptable to abuse us verbally and physically, and the pay was low by comparison with almost any other lifetime career. But other aspects of it were glorious. The times when someone thanked you sincerely, the wonderful relationships and friendships with colleagues and nursing staff at hospitals, and the feeling that you did something useful, instead of making more profit for faceless international conglomerates.

I like to think of it as one of the truly worthwhile jobs. Working in unsuitable conditions to help people as best as you could. Usually too hot or too cold, tired, wet, and frequently exhausted by the relentless workload and the pressures of dealing with difficult situations. Trying to stay cheerful and positive in the face of unspeakable scenes and sights, and remaining professional at all times in the public gaze.

There could be no other choice for ‘A’.

If you want to read more about my time doing that, I have posted many examples on this blog. Here are some links.

https://beetleypete.com/category/ambulance-stories/

The Ambulances I Worked In

Ambulance memories: Disasters

Pete In The Papers

~ beetleypete ~ 63 Comments

In 2001, The London Ambulance Service received an award for its handling of the Paddington/Ladbroke Grove train crash in 1999. I was one of a group of people chosen to travel to Yorkshire for the ceremony. We gave a short interview to the London newspaper, The Evening Standard. I didn’t see the copy where the interview appeared as I was already in Yorkshire, and had actually forgotten about being told it would be in the newspaper.

Thanks to American blogger Maggie from https://fromcavewalls.wordpress.com/
I now have a photo of the relevant page of that newspaper, which she came across by chance whilst researching something unrelated.

Another great benefit of international blogging.

(You can enlarge the image and see the text by clicking on it twice.)

For anyone who would like to read more about what happened that day in 1999, here is a link to my blog post.

Ambulance stories (41)

Ambulance stories (29)

~ beetleypete ~ 4 Comments

A 2013 Ambulance post about one of the more ‘routine’ duties undertaken by EMT crews. This might come as a surprise to some readers.

beetleypete

S.C.B.U. Runs.

These were also called ‘Prem runs’, as they dealt with premature births, or ‘Incubator runs’, as they involved carrying an incubator in the ambulance. This is not a story that stretches credibility, or makes you afraid of losing your breakfast. Neither is it humourous, or likely to make you feel sad, or upset. It is simply informative, dealing with a side of working for the LAS, that was unknown to me before I started, and almost certainly unknown to everyone else too, before they started making so many TV shows about the NHS.

SCBU is a simple acronym for ‘Special Care Baby Unit.’ Most large hospitals have had one, since the 1970’s. However, they were rarely able to provide the specialist care needed when serious complications arose, such as heart defects, and other conditions requiring surgery on these tiny newborns. In these instances, it was necessary to transfer…

View original post 675 more words

Ambulance stories (2)

~ beetleypete ~ 5 Comments

An Ambulance Story from 2012. Not at all unpleasant, and reasonably amusing.

beetleypete

Jimi Hendrix pubes

For those of you who do not know, Jimi Hendrix was a once-famous rock guitarist, who reached his height of popularity in the 1960’s. More information, and pictures, can be found at; http://www.jimihendrix.com For the purposes of this post, his hair is the only thing of interest. It was quite wild, usually in an Afro style, with a headband habitually worn around it. The reasons for this explanation will become apparent later.

Not all the interesting things that happen to you in the Ambulance Service happen as a result of 999 calls. It is a popular misconception that ambulances operate from specific hospitals, and are run by those same hospitals. This is not the case. In London, the whole area is covered by the London Ambulance NHS Trust, and the vehicles and crews are based on Ambulance Stations, at various points around the Capital. This means that…

View original post 1,162 more words

Ambulance stories (21)

~ beetleypete ~ 4 Comments

Another ‘never-viewed’ post, of only marginal interest to anyone. It is also getting a ‘Decade later’ outing today. 🙂

beetleypete

Coming clean

This is not a story about an ambulance call. It is time to come clean, and tell it how it was, for me at least, in those seemingly far-off days.

You may have noticed references, and comments, about what I was like in those days; how I was perceived, and how I presented myself to others. So, here is some background about how I dealt with it all, the type of person that I was, and more importantly, the type of person that I wanted others to believe that I was.

When I joined the London Ambulance Service, I was 28 years old. That was older than the average at the time, although there were older people in my class at Training School. I had been around long enough, to know to keep a little quiet at first, feel the atmosphere, get the lie of the land. It…

View original post 639 more words

Ambulance stories (Introduction)

~ beetleypete ~ 13 Comments

I found this old Ambulance post from 2012 that nobody has ever viewed. To be honest, it isn’t that interesting, but 10 years on, it deserves a second try.

beetleypete

It has been suggested, by family and friends, that I should add some stories of my experiences in the London Ambulance Service. These may be amusing or diverting to some, perhaps informative to others. I have added a new category for these tales, although they will also be categorised ‘Nostalgia and Reflections, for obvious reasons.

As many of the subjects of these recollections will still be alive, as will many of their families, I shall be careful not to identify them too clearly. I will be changing real names, omitting surnames, and not including actual addresses. Please be assured, that no matter how fanciful or contrived these incidents may appear, they will all be 100% true, memory permitting.

In recent years, television programmes, both factual and fictional, have sought to portray the life of Ambulance Crews and Paramedics as exciting and vital. They are seen rushing from one emergency to…

View original post 264 more words

Ambulance stories (15)

~ beetleypete ~ 20 Comments

I found this old Ambulance post from 2012. It looks like only one person ever read it. Given the unpleasant story related, that is hardly surprising.

beetleypete

Is that better?

Retention of urine is a common condition, primarily affecting male patients. As men grow older, the prostate gland continues to enlarge, and often constricts the urethra. This can result in inability to pass water at all, or in frequent, unsatisfying urination. Other causes might include physical obstructions, such as a tumour, though this is less likely. So, this condition is considered a run-of-the-mill job by ambulance crews, and is normally already diagnosed by a G.P. The ambulance is summoned to take the affected person to hospital, for a pre-arranged examination by a urologist, and it is not considered to be an emergency. In many cases, the man will make his own way to hospital, though if he has another condition already, such as a heart problem, difficulty in walking, or breathing problems, it is likely that his doctor will request transport by ambulance.

One late afternoon shift…

View original post 731 more words

Nice Times (7)

~ beetleypete ~ 61 Comments

When I was an EMT, I often had to work New Year’s Eve night duty, one of the busiest shifts of the year for ambulances in London. During one shift, we bought a bottle of champagne in a local shop. When we got into our local casualty department just before midnight, we opened the champagne in the tea room, and poured small measures into paper cups for the nurses and doctors on duty. Just after the clock passed twelve, we carried them out on a tray and passed them around, shouting “Happy New Year” to each nurse or doctor in turn. (We didn’t drink any) Then it was back out into the busy night, but it had been a nice moment indeed.

My mum and I owned a large long-haired German Shepherd dog, Skipper. We had him from a tiny pup, and he grew into a huge dog. When I got married, he stayed with my mum, and almost fifteen years later, he was living with her in a small flat in Peckham. One day, she rang me to tell me he couldn’t stand up, and his back legs did not seem to be working. She couldn’t take him out, and he wouldn’t eat anything, or drink any water. I drove over to see her, and could see that poor Skipper was close to the end. I rang the Vet and asked him to come out to put our dog to sleep. He agreed to do so, if we paid an exhorbitant extra charge, and came just over an hour later. My mum was too upset to stay in the room, but I sat on the floor with Skipper’s head in my lap as the Vet injected him. Our old dog looked up at me as he died, and I stroked his head. As sad as it was, that was nice for me, to be there for Skipper in his final moments.

On the day that I resigned from the London Ambulance Service to work for the police, I had to go into the main station at Fulham and hand my letter over to the Station Officer. She was an experienced Paramedic who had swapped operational duties for being a manager. I had been the union representative for many years, and we had experienced some run-ins and confrontational moments previously. But that morning, she genuinely tried to persuade me to stay on. When I declined, she thanked me for all my service, for being a fair but firm union man, and stood up to shake my hand. We had worked as adversaries, but left the room as friends.

After I had retired and moved to Norfolk, I spent a long time working as a volunteer for the the Fire Service. I would drive around installing smoke alarms, talking to various groups, and attending school fire safety displays. I had to ring the elderly or disabled people who qualified for the free smoke alarms, and arrange my own appointments. One day, I rang an very old lady who lived in a small village about eight miles from Beetley, and she agreed for me to go to her house the next morning at eleven. She was walking using a frame on wheels, and her back was very bent from age and arthritis. I changed her old defunct smoke alarm for a new one, and showed her how it worked. As I was leaving, she presented me with a small Victoria Sponge cake she had made for me, saying “I got up at six this morning to make it fresh for you”. A lovely old lady.

My Medal

~ beetleypete ~ 66 Comments


(Photo by Monster Medals)

A comment by Jennie Fitzkee on one of my ambulance posts reminded me about my medal. When you work in the Ambulance Service in the UK, which is part of the NHS, you receive a medal after twenty years of service. The following conditions must be fulfilled, to receive it.

Operational staff who reach their 20-year milestone with the Ambulance Service are awarded a Queen’s Ambulance Service (Emergency Duties) Long Service & Good Conduct Medal provided they have completed 20 years’ service, with at least seven years on A&E duties, and hold a clean disciplinary record.

During my service as an EMT, we had the long-running National Ambulance Strike, which I actively participated in. As a result, the London Ambulance Service decided to deduct the six months we were on strike from our service, meaning we had to complete more than twenty years to receive one. (I know, spiteful…) Most of us regarded the medal with some cynicism. If you stayed in the job long enough, you got one, whatever your actual operational experiences might have been.

So some staff worked flat out every day in busy areas, doing all sorts of dangerous and difficult jobs, whilst those in the outer suburbs had a comparatively easy life. But everyone got the same medal. It became known as the ‘Turning Up Medal’, as all it really signified was that you had shown up every day, for at least twenty years.

Then there were always delays in the presentations, as they had to accumulate enough eligible staff to make the cost of the occasion worthwhile. So by the time I had completed almost twenty-two years of service, I had still not received one. Then I decided to leave, and work for the Metropolitan Police. I gave up all hope of ever getting my medal, which I only really wanted so that my Mum could accompany me to the presentation ceremony.

Almost a year after I had left, I received a letter telling me that I could attend the medal ceremony, and bring two guests. However, as I was no longer employed by them, I would not be granted the benefit of wearing the dress uniform that everyone else would wear to the occasion. I wanted my elderly Mum to be able to see me get it, so I agreed to go anyway, wearing a conventional suit and tie.

The ceremony was held in the impressive Assembly Room of Church House, next to Westminster Abbey, in Central London.

Once all the recipients had been presented with their medals, we were allowed to retire to the rear balcony, where drinks and snacks were served. That place has an impressive view of the ancient Abbey. My Mum made the evening, by looking across at the most famous church in Britain, and declaring, “I’ve seen that church before”. (Failing to recognise it as Westminster Abbey) She then sipped her tea, and wrinkling up her nose, she remarked loudly, “This is as weak as water, and tastes like cat’s pee”.

But I got my medal, and Julie and my Mum were there to see it presented.

It now rests in its box, in a drawer somewhere. I have nobody to leave it to, so will probably give it to a museum one day.

Thinking Aloud On a Sunday

~ beetleypete ~ 61 Comments

Reputation.

I was chatting to a friend on the phone the other day. He also happens to be an ex-colleague from my days as an EMT in the London Ambulance Service. We worked at the same base for many years, and he also later worked with me in a police control room, before I retired.

He told me a story about how he had recently returned to his home on the south coast, and had been told that his elderly aunt was ill. He went round to see her, and took her into hospital for a check up. They discharged her, and recommended that her family doctor attend, to carry out checks at her home. The doctor didn’t come as requested. Instead, he sent a Paramedic Practitioner, to call at the home of the old lady. This is something fairly new here. To save the time of general practice doctors, and also to save the cost of employing additional doctors to help, they use former ambulance paramedics who have attended an extended training course, to work in the community.

As the man was examining her, he turned to my friend, and said, “I know you, you used to work at North Kensington Ambulance Station, in London”. My friend was surprised that this man should have encountered him after all those years, but confessed that he didn’t recognise him at all. It turned out that he had spent some time as a shift relief on the West London rota, and had worked with my friend on more than one occasion. He continued by saying, “You had a bloke there, Pete Johnson, a real militant he was”.

He was talking about me.

As I left the ambulance service in 2001, it is always a surprise to me that anyone remembers me, unless they were close friends, or regular colleagues at the same base. This random man, now working over 80 miles away from where I might have met him, possibly worked with me once or twice, probably before 1990. I don’t remember him at all, but after almost 30 years, he certainly remembers me, and has strong opinions about what I was like too. I left a mark, undoubtedly, and half a lifetime later, my reputation continues, at least where this man is concerned.

That got me thinking. Yes, I was a militant. I was a union organiser, one of the first to go on strike in the 1989 National Dispute, and I voted for the Communist Party. I was around 36 years of age at the time, heavily involved in all aspects of the Trade Union, and politics outside of work too. But I never considered that I had a ‘reputation’, at least not in my day to day life as an EMT. I did the job to the best of my ability, and mostly played by the rules. I like to think that I got on well with 99% of my colleagues, and all the various medical departments and agencies we came into daily contact with. When I finally left to work for the Police, most people, outside of some senior managers, were sorry to see me go. At least I thought so.

Then 30 years later, a face from the past tells someone of my reputation. Not of my sense of humour, my kindness, or fairness. Nothing to do with my hard work, or the fight to get decent conditions for everyone in the Ambulance Service. Not a word about my years working on the committees to get better vehicles and equipment, or serviceable uniforms. No mention of 22 years serving the community of London in a low-paid, difficult, and often very stressful job. It all came down to one thing, a reputation based on perception.

“A real militant”.

On reflection, I don’t really mind that at all.