Good morning sun

What a beautiful Sunday morning. The sky is starting to get light again. It’s early. 3:52 to be exact. I wake up to the sound of the pager. It’s blinking red and hurting my eyes. It’s a call to a festival. 25 yrs old. Bottle Vs hand. Great! A drunken fighter…

We suit up, go down, get into the car, and go. There’s obviously no traffic at this time of night so the blue lights make almost no difference. But anyhow. 16 minutes after the call comes in we arrive at the scene.

A security guard awaits us and tells us that a guy has a cut on his right arm. Our patient is sitting at a bus stop with a bandage around his arm surrounded by 2-3 others.

We approach the scene. His first impression on me seems stable, calm, not sure if drunk or not. Not aggressive. I ask him how this happened. He claims it to be from a broken glass. I don’t further my questioning though I’m focused on him.

He talks to me – A is clear

His breathing is calm, normal depth, no cyanosis anywhere – B is fine

His heart beat is rythmic and normal, his skin is normal – C is fine too

Stable patient. On to the wound. It’s on his right arm right above the wrist.

It’s an almost triangular cut about 2-3 cm of length but not very deep (2-4 mm max). It’s still bleeding and there are visible tendons. A bit deeper and he could have cut into an artery. That would have been messy.

After a proper inspection of the wound I bandage it again and tell him he needs to go to hospital. If anybody is fit to drive they can take him. But where am I? Sunday morning at a festival. I’m sure I’ll find a sober driver to take him now… Not.

Pack our bags and into our Ambulance. Seatbelt. Off we go to hospital.

I’m writing down his details and ask again how this happened. He says he broke a window. The other lady that joins him in our car says that the truth would be helpful. He replies with saying: that’s it. You don’t believe me? Go check yourself.

Turns out that the lady accompanying him is his ex girlfriend. Ex because of a tragedy five years ago. They lost a child to SIDS. Their relationship couldn’t stand that. He neither. Lots of psychological help but it’s still there.

Whenever there’s alcohol it’s even worse of course. We talk about how they both can get help starting with their family doc and that they need that. But they know it themselves already. There’s not very much I can say to them about that.

We arrive at hospital soon after. Into the trauma care. He sits down on a stretcher. I call the nurse.

His physical care is now a matter of the hospital staff. His psychological care is a different matter.

Back at the station in bed, I feel like I need to write about this. I couldn’t sleep now anyhow.

I hope he’ll be fine and he learns to handle it. I surely wish him the best. I wish never to experience what he has.

Already enough for me to think about it. But ya. Enough.

My shift is done now. I can go back home and sleep there properly.

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