- I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity and privacy I've changed the names of individuals and sometimes places, I may have changed some identifying characteristics, so the people described do not necessarily reflect the actual person or persons involved. Incidents and situations are as I recall.
5)
Monday morning and here I was dressed up in my shiny new
uniform and pulling into the station, which, unknown to me then, was going to be
a sort of a home for the next few years. I parked up in the yard and stepped nervously
out.
The station was shared with the fire service, but instead of
being full-time the fire service here was retained, or part-time, meaning they
all had other jobs and just responded when needed, dropping whatever it was
they were doing and rushing down to the station to jump on a vehicle. The
ambulance side of it was around the back and this is where I parked my car.
All the appliance bay doors were closed and I looked to the
side to see how to get in. I found a little door and tentatively knocked,
thinking that perhaps I shouldn’t just barge in as if I owned the place. I
waited and then saw someone ambling towards me through the glass doors.
‘Ah! You must be Mr Mullis. Come in my boy.’ A distinguished
grey haired gentleman bid me entry. He wore an unbuttoned tunic with a clip-on
tie hanging off his trouser belt; above his left breast pocket were two rows of
medal ribbons. ‘Cuppa tea?’ he added, as he led me into the crew-room.
Three faces looked up at me as I entered, all of them giving
off the aura of being old hands. They were seated in old battered arm chairs
and leant forward a bit to get a better look at me. Cards were carelessly
thrown down on the little table in front of them and each had a tea-stained mug
positioned within hands reach. A couple of full ashtrays were balanced on the
arms of two of the chairs and thick smoke clung in a fug just below the
ceiling.
I tried a nervous smile. ‘Yes please,’ I answered to the tea
question. I then looked at the three seated. ‘Er...Hello. I’m Clive and I’m
er...meant to be riding out for the week.’
The gentleman who let me in turned and took a few steps
towards me, offering his hand. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m
Maurice, and that there is Denny.’ He pointed to another late middle aged
gentleman and then stabbed a finger towards the other two. ‘That’s Sam and
that’s Paul. You’ll be with me and Denny for the week.’
I looked at them all, nodded and smiled nervously.
‘Er...morning all.’
‘Ignore those old sods,’ said Maurice, smiling broadly.
‘Come through here and I’ll show where to throw your stuff.’
‘And don’t forget to show him the bloody kitchen,’ laughed
Sam, in a thick Northern Ireland accent as I disappeared into the corridor. Now
I knew what was to be my main duty for the week. Tea making.
Maurice showed me the vehicle, which was a Bedford CF,
sitting in the second bay in the appliance room. I thought I should show some
willing as I asked whether I should check anything but was met with a quizzical
look. ‘Don’t be daft; we’ve had a quick look so that’s all done for the week
now. Let’s go get the tea.’
Both Maurice and Denny had been in the service for years,
both had been through the war and there was nothing that could ever faze either
of them. The other two, who were the early crew and doing a seven-to-three
shift, were just as experienced and just as welcoming. Within a few minutes I
was sat down in a chair with a hot cup of tea and my very own ashtray balanced
on the arm.
It was explained what was to happen this day. The nine to
five vehicle, which was the one I was on, had planned work allocated. This
meant that there was a work list on the printer for us to do. We were taking a
small list of patients to their out-patient appointments at Stoke Mandeville
hospital in Aylesbury. There was also what was called a sitting-car vehicle,
which was already out doing similar work and was single manned, but we had the
patients who needed two people to help move them.
Straight away I discovered that neither Maurice nor Denny
liked driving, and I suppose having me there made life better for both of them
as I was shoe-horned into the driving seat and told that I could drive for the
week - unless an emergency call came in, but they thought that was going to be
unlikely. At that time there was no driving course, if you had a license and
could drive a hundred yards without hitting anything, then that was good
enough.
I was a bit disappointed in the fact that we were basically
just a taxi service. For the previous three weeks we had practiced dealing with
dramatic life threatening incidents and I was hoping that I could at least see
how it was all done out on the road. I learnt that the station was generally
very quiet. Emergencies calls happened, but not very often.
The week went by with me driving several times to Aylesbury
and back, a slow lunch at the station and then back out to Aylesbury again. The
patients we had were regulars and were a lively bunch and quickly picked up on
the fact that I was new. Encouraged by both Maurice and Dave I was generally
the butt of all the jokes, most of them near the knuckle as the patients were
mainly London women who were bombed out in the blitz, or had been moved on due
to the slum clearances, or were locals where farming was the way of life. I was
just getting used to the fact that this was going to be my week when half way
through lunch, about three days in, the red phone rang. This elicited some
strange looks between Maurice and Denny. I on the other hand felt the back of
my neck begin to tingle and my heart beat quicker.
Denny answered the phone.
‘Yep, yep, yep,’ he repeated. ‘What do you mean there’s
no-one else? Where’s Hemel? Where’s the other vehicle?’ These were always the
questions when a call came in from another area, even today, the response will
be just the same. ‘Oh, all right,’ replied Denny, with a sigh. ‘If we have to.’
Apparently we had to.
The call was to a dentist in Hemel Hempstead where someone
had suffered a sudden illness, strangely enough it was my dentist, so I could
understand someone being unwell having been under the ministrations of that
particular dentist. Maurice jumped into the driver’s seat while Denny jumped in
the back. I sat up front and tried to look as if I knew what I was doing. I
picked up the radio handset.
‘732 mobile red.’ I spoke into the thing as I was told to by
Maurice.
There was a pause.
‘Who’s that?’ said the confused crackly voice on the other
end of the radio.
Denny leant through and grabbed the handset out of my hand.
‘His name is Clive and he’s just started with us.’
Another pause. ‘Oh yes, I can see that now, he’s on my list.
Welcome Clive, and good luck. You’ll need it.’
We trundled out of
the station and then up the hill and out into the country lanes and through the
villages. Once up the hill Maurice managed to get a little speed out of the
vehicle and eventually we were moving along at a reasonable pace. Both my
colleagues were hoping that a nearer vehicle would become available so we would
get stood down, while I was hoping we would get there.
Unfortunately for my two friends, they were wrong - we got
there. We pulled up outside and Denny hopped off the back with his first aid
bag and a small oxygen cylinder called a portagen. I opened the cab door and
followed him in. It was a very small waiting room and there were three people
sitting waiting for their turn in the dreaded chair as we walked in. The
receptionist looked worried as she showed us through the narrow wicker door and
guided us to the patient.
The dentist was stood there with a look of shock on his
face, very similar to the one I normally wore after having visited him - fortunately
he didn’t recognise me.
‘Hello mate,’ said Denny to the dentist. ‘What you done
‘ere?’
The dentist looked at Denny and then at the patient. ‘Well,
he just came in for a filling,’ he replied, missing entirely the inference in
Denny’s question. ‘He went a bit stiff all of a sudden and then this. I think
he’s had a stroke.’
The patient was sort of slumped in the chair and appeared to
be snoring. He was elderly, a bit overweight and was red in the face. The left
half of his face was drooping and spittle leaked from the corner of his mouth. His
eyes were staring and frightened.
‘If I saw you coming towards me with a drill I might do the
same,’ replied Denny with a grin. He then smiled at the patient. ‘You’ll be all
right mate, don’t worry. Soon have you at the hospital.’
The man’s wife was stood in corner looking very concerned.
Denny reached forward and picked up his left arm, he held it
up for a bit and then let it go. It flopped straight back down. He then lifted
his right arm up and let this go too, it stayed there momentarily and then fell
more slowly back to his lap. He put a mask on his face and turned on the
oxygen. He stood there a moment while he took a pulse. ‘That’s bouncing about
like a road drill,’ he said, presumably for my benefit. ‘Chair and two plus
two.’ He said to me by way of instruction, meaning he wanted a carry-chair, two
blankets and two incontinence pads.
I nodded and hurried out to tell Maurice who was still sat
waiting in the driver’s seat.
‘No point in all of us going in,’ he said in explanation. ‘I
already know what to do.’
This time we both went in and now the dentist’s room was
quite full. There were the three of us, the dentist, the receptionist and the
patient and his wife. Room to swing a cat there was not. By shifting some stuff
we managed to get the chair next to the dentist’s chair. Gloves in those days
were not normally used and Denny slipped his arms beneath the patient’s arms
and grabbed hold of his wrists. I was guided round by Maurice to the other side
and told to slide one arm around his waist and the other beneath his knees.
Maurice took the feet. This was called a top and tail, I realised my mistake
straight away. Maurice just grinned, and then so did Denny. The clue had been
the incontinence pads.
With my arms sodden wet and my nose a scant inch from his
groin where the smell wafted nicely up my nose, we lifted. I slipped a bit and
my clean elbow went straight into the puddle on the chair. Great, I thought, as
I wondered whether I should go back to the job centre. A few grunts and a
couple of shuffles later we managed to get the patient onto the chair and wrapped
up in blankets. Denny tipped back the carry-chair onto its wheels and pulled
him out. Maurice dodged in front of me and I followed up in the rear, arms
dripping and giving off a wonderful aroma of ammonia. The patients in the waiting
room didn’t look very happy as we dragged the unfortunate man through - if this
was what a visit to the dentist entailed then they may be having second
thoughts. I wasn’t too happy either.
I learnt two things that day.
One was to never get the bottom end in a lift if at all possible,
and two, always have a change of clothes back at the station. For the rest of
that day everyone steered well clear of me - but at least I got out of making
the tea!
