…wait for the Ambulance service.
Regular readers may feel that I have a bee in my bonnet about this one, given the amount of stories of late that I’m posting. And I know the garden isn’t all that rosey within the police service but I’m really not trying to divert thoughts from the police onto the other services, but bloody hell.
This week we had an officer in the town centre calling up wanting an ambulance urgently. A 90-year-old lady had fallen over on the footpath and hurt her hip. Alarm bells always ring when I hear this, ever since my own mother-in-law fell over in our kitchen and broke her hip. She spent a while in our local hospital until she had an emergency hip replacement. After a few weeks she returned back to her part of the country where complications necessitated a stay in her hospital during which she contracted one of thoseÂ illnesses brought about by unclean wards and she died.
We called an ambulance explaining the situation, and ambulance came there none. None available. Not until 65 minutes later. 65 minutes during which a frail 90-year-old was lying on the footpath amongst the shoppers, all presumably tutting that we weren’t doing anything to get her medical aid.
Meanwhile we were having a debate about whose fault it would be if she died on scene, or if we picked her up and took her to A&E ourselves and inadvertently caused a condition which lead to her death. We concluded that it would be our fault whatever happened. It usually is.
It wouldn’t be so bad if this wasn’t just a rare occasion, but it is happening EVERY SINGLE shift.
I still haven’t read anything in the papers about it.