They are very small, they are a long way away, and I wasn't back in time for tea. And there were no Canaries.
Did you know that you can get tapas in Gran Canaria in a shopping centre at ten-thirty on a sunday night? I love the Spanish.
The hotel packed breakfast, however, was dry bread, a packet of chocolate biscuits and a banana. Actually that was okay.
I went to a Holiday Play Club today to tell the small Yorkshire children about my job. The teacher built it up a bit too much. The children were sitting on the floor around her as she introduced me as having "the coolest job in the world". The kids' eyes visibly widened.
She asked them what they thought I did.
"Does he bake cakes?" one boy said.
"I bet he designs computer games" wondered another.
I told them, "I'm a nurse who works in ambulances."
"I heard an ambulance once", said the smallest girl.
In the playground there were the words "Buddy Base" painted, along with two dinosaurs in a circle. I asked what it was for, and was told that when a child had no-one to play with they could stand in the circle and someone would see them and come and play with them.
Great idea! I stood in the circle ... and it worked!
This week I was double-published. The first event was a peer-reviewed article in a medical journal.
Braithwaite I, Hervo J, Babarao S, Harrison C. Continuous low suction pressure: an innovative solution to transporting patients with Replogle tubes. Infant. 2011 Jul. 6;7(4):133–134.*
The second was a funny sign which was published on the website of the Daily Telegraph in their "funny sign" section.
I think you'll agree that's a funny sign (pointed out by a friend). I think you'll also agree that it's been a diverse week.
* Neonatal patients with trache-oesophageal fistulas are at risk of aspiration and require constant drainage of the pouch in order to clear secretions. This can be a challenge in the transport environment where low pressure suction is not always available. This article describes a solution to this problem utilising a dry seal chest drain with a built-in suction regulator.
RIght. This is the post I hoped never to have to write.
Dr Who is rubbish.
I have written about bad CPR in films and on television before, both James Bond and Martha Jones have been on the receiving end of my withering criticism before now. Those examples were heroic compared to the third episode of the new series of Dr Who, which contains one of the worst examples of CPR ever presented on screen.
Amy Pond is trying to revive her husband, who has drowned (fell off a pirate ship). Let me just remind everyone that CPR for adults is taught in a relatively standard way all around the world. The best evidence suggests that a ratio of 30 compressions to 2 breaths is the most effective. And you carry on until help arrives, or you are exhausted. Amy utilises a ratio that averages out at 7:1. She performs the cycle six times, then has a little rest, at which point Rory coughs and wakes up. Ten minutes later he is in a dressing gown and popping off to bed.
Admittedly Amy confesses that she doesn't know CPR, so I am not blaiming her here. (Her husband is a nurse - why had he not shown her?) But I am distressed at the script writers and the directors and the producers and everyone who missed out on a golden opportunity to get it right and help save lives. People remember what they see. And most people have only ever seen CPR being given on telly. So why not put a teeny bit of effort in and show it correctly? That way, if someone has to perform CPR they stand a better chance of being effective because they have something to copy! Like this kid. Goodness knows why his parents let him watch Black Hawk Down when he was eight, although I bet they're glad now.
It is said that making some effort at CPR is better than nothing, but the camera angles in the Dr Who episode are all close ups of Amy's face and the mouth-to-mouth bit. At no point do they show a full shot of her pressing down on his chest. And you know what? That is the most important bit. Children are taught that when performing CPR on an adult, don't worry about the breaths, just push down hard and fast on the chest.
Grrr.
So what about the new series? Well, I really enjoyed the first two episodes, but I tend to agree with this statement ...
The very best thing about having a show with zero narrative accountability means you don't have to spend time making things fit together or avoid contradicting themselves: You can just do whatever you want, and then tell us that was how it was supposed to be all along. Just toss any old crazy awesome crap together -- space whales and Elizabeth X and scary face monsters and trapdoors and weird music and water falling in glasses and people wearing masks and time-travel ... but as long as you've also intercut three random scenes of other stuff happening, at the end of the day you can point to it and be like, "See? Brilliant."
I've been in Windsor this week, on a work-related course. I didn't get an invitation to the wedding, but the next best thing was spending time at Cumberland Lodge in Windsor great park, where the course was held.
It was built in the time of Cromwell, and later became a royal residence playing host to many historic events, including the abdication of King Edward. I believe this was recently the subject of some film or other, that was quite popular. One evening I was lucky enough to dine in the "abdication" room and was served cod cheeks* whilst sitting in the shadow of a picture of a bloke talking into a microphone. In honour of the occasion I told my joke about a pirate.
For the wedding itself I was in the lounge of the hotel, sandwiched between two old ladies, one a Charles supporter and one a Charles 'hater'. Some of the conversation highlights included:
"He drove her to bulimia"
"It's disgusting, William should be wearing his RAF uniform, he is a serving officer"
"You wouldn't say that if you had read Paul Burrell's book"
Thankfully there was wedding cake and wine with bubbles to distract me. My proud connection to the actual event was that my brother's friend's company supplied the trees. And also that my friend Matt was a royal wedding pundit on Bangladeshi television.
* I once saw a Heston Blumenthal programme where he cooked these on board a Navy submarine.
... and aeroplanes!
And occasionally helicopters. Preferably yellow ones.
Well, I went to work on tuesday morning, with food and clothes for one day. I finally arrived home today, friday morning. I ended up eating well, although personal hygiene has suffered.
I was in Scunthorpe last night, and it felt as if civilisation had broken down. Stuck lorries blocked key roads, and we were forced to feel our way towards the hospital through the back streets, then push our stretcher through a snow-bound car park.
The snow just fell and fell and kept on falling. As an essential service we had to keep going throughout the extreme weather. The effort everyone put in and the results we achieved gave me one of the most professionally and personally satisfying work-weeks I have ever had. Although it was also one of the most knackering. I spent at least as much time wielding a shovel as I did doing nursey things.
Every time someone arrived we greeted them as if they had crossed the arctic on skis. They often looked like they had. Every time someone left, they were dug out and de-iced, and pushed on their way. One essential staff member commandeered a police 4x4. I allowed my car to disappear under the snow and stayed in a hotel for three nights.
At eight o'clock on wednesday morning we looked out of the window to see a big articulated lorry rumbling through the snow towards us. The driver was looking for somewhere to park up while he rested and had found himself in our estate. He finally rolled to a halt in front of our ambulance garage, completely stuck in the drifts. Together with the staff from neighbouring offices, operation "dig out the idiot" took all available shovels and almost an hour.
I've been away looking at ambulances and helicopters this week. I discovered that if you take a big exhibition hall and fill it with hundreds of emergency vehicles all with blue flashing lights, you get a really bad headache almost immediately.
There were some innovative ambulance designs, which I may have trouble getting my organisation to fund. I rather liked this one, just for its sturdiness ...
And this one can take two patients ...
This one faught in the Falklands. The bulge on the rear door is the modification so it can take a stretcher across the back seat! Typically British inginuity. It's not missing an engine cover, it never had one in the first place. It's basically a Meccano helicopter. It even comes with a spanner (front seat).
And there were lots of the usual little yellow helicopters too. It was nice to see a BK again.
I stayed with a friend near Oxford. She'd bought a sofa but couldn't fit it through her front door. Her house backs onto the park so we marched it past Waitrose and into the trees. The ground level in the park was lower than her garden, so I had to stand with my arms stretched above my head, balancing a sofa against a wall, whilst my friend ran around the block to haul it in from the other side. Great fun. Everyone should try it.
I had the privilege last week to spend a day with a major airline learning from their medical aviation experience and doing a bit of emergency escape training.
Virgin Atlantic have their base just south of London, and for someone who works in the public sector, it seemed like a utopia of office design - the sort of place that appears in glossy magazine spreads about 'the future'. There were bars, and sofas and a huge atrium with indoor trees. I didn't see any actual offices or desks, I think people just go to work, grab a latte and hang out. It may also be where air stewardesses go when they are too pregnant to fly and not pregnant enough to go on maternity leave. I didn't meet Mr Branson, although I heard someone say "... actually it's a big priority for Richard" which was pretty cool! They also had Dyson Airblades in the bathrooms.
Beyond the atrium and the trees and the lattes there was a big (fully carpeted) training hangar where there were several bits of aeroplanes dotted around; a cockpit here, a fuselage there, and even some check-in desks in the corner. The fuselages were fully kitted out with all the seats and toilets and galleys that would be in a proper plane. They even had Upper Class! (Yes, the beds do fully recline, and there is a bar.) Much of the day was spent in seminars, learning about the medical equipment that is carried on board or observing scenario demonstrations. But we did also get a taster of some emergency escape drills, and I guess that is what you'll be interested in ...
I was relaxed in my seat (emergency exit row - better leg room) when the pilot came over the intercom and announced that we would be making an emergency landing in four minutes. Suddenly the Geordie stewardess started yelling, really yelling, "Seat belts on Seat belts ON! SEAT BELTS ON!"
The significance of my chosen seat became immediately apparent. She strapped herself into the rear-facing seat opposite me and continued to shout:
"When we land IF I am injured YOU must remove me from my seat and place me in your seat. You must check if it is SAFE to open the door. If it is safe you must open the door by TURNING THE HANDLE. You two leave the plane and stay at the bottom of the slide to guide others away. You two stay at the top of the slide to help others out. If it is UNSAFE to open the door you must find another exit and TAKE ME WITH YOU!"
I'm not often in the situation where there is someone yelling at me, continuously. It was a bit of a shock. Once the initial instructions had been shouted, panic was avoided in the pre-impact minutes with a compulsory and compellingly urgent quiz. "YOU! How do you remove my seatbelt?" "YOU! How do you open the door?" "YOU! How do you deploy the slide?" I forgot all about the imminent crash (which apparently was the point). There was an angry Geordie about to ask me a question and I wasn't sure I'd know the answer.
After the impact, there was an actual escape slide to go down, from the height of a 747. It is higher than it looks, and as much fun as it looks. You go really fast at first, then there is a bit of grippy material near the bottom that gives you a wedgie and tips you up on your feet.
In the water-landing drill (imaginary water, but still scary) I was dead fast with my life jacket, and was given the job of organising everyone along the raft in a row. Then the shouty Geordie arrived on the raft and I realised that, even after the escape, she was still in charge and would be the one sharing out the water and the glucose tablets over the next few days.
Brilliant fun, really interesting to see how much you can remember under pressure and how disorientation and unfamiliarity affects your actions in stressful circumstances. There was noise and smoke and a shouty Geordie to contend with, all pretty realistic. I feel prepared for the worst and I have a new admiration for airline staff who are really well trained, really highly skilled, and will get you out alive!
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