Decades of Trauma

(Content Warning: contains a reference to suicide)

For almost the last three decades, I have worked within the U.K.’s National Health Service (NHS).

My first job in the NHS was as a hospital porter; you can read a poem I wrote about my macabre job interview here:

Not a Normal Job Interview — The Lark — Medium

My main roles included transporting patients around the hospital, collecting blood, changing gas cylinders, security duties, assisting staff in the ER in any way possible, and last but not least, taking deceased patients from the wards and placing them in the mortuary.

I have been witness to broken limbs, open skull fractures, gunshot wounds, stab wounds, circulars saw wounds (they were particularly impressive!) and cardiac arrests in both adults and children.

I have even had jovial conversations with patients after Magnetic Resonance Imagery (MRI) scans, with the knowledge (often unbeknown to them), that I might be the last person they ever talk to. That was hard!

One of the most memorable moments, however, was looking at the X-rays of people claiming to have inadvertently sat on objects which had now become lodged up a certain orifice; hairbrushes, bottles, corkscrews, and of course pieces of fruit. The list is endless.

After being assaulted numerous times by drunks and angry old ladies brandishing walking sticks, I decided it was time for a complete change and handed in my notice.

Then out of the blue (you know how it goes), my lovely wife fell pregnant and I needed to find another job, urgently.

While out shopping for baby clothes (still 7 months to go!), we happened to walk past a job agency. In the window, there was a large notice stating: ‘Emergency Ambulance Dispatchers Required.’

I knew my previous experience at the hospital might be relevant, so I went in for a closer look. Big mistake.

Over Twenty years later and I’m still an Emergency Dispatcher (Well, barely; but we’ll come to that at the end)

Franz26, (2023) Available at Download Ai Generated, Ambulance, Rescue Service. Royalty-Free Stock Illustration Image — Pixabay

In my probationary period, I had to do an ambulance ride out with the paramedics to experience first hand what we would be dealing with in the control room.

Our very first call, was a concern for safety for a man who had not been seen outside his flat for several days. When we arrived there was no answer, so I pushed the front door. It began to open, but it felt as though something was against it. As I pushed harder I managed to get enough space to squeeze my head in and look around. He was behind the door! Sadly, he had committed suicide by hanging himself from the door handle with an electrical cord. I was truly back in the world of trauma!

Over the years, I have experienced emergency calls from numerous incidents; some of which you would likely not believe, and many I can’t possibly divulge as they are so harrowing. I have, on many occasions spoken to people on the phone who I know are very possibly about to die from either their injuries or medical condition.

For anyone that works in a similar environment, you do develop a certain type of emotional hardening over the years. It is the only way to survive the job. But I have always found it so much harder when children are involved. As a father of three, it is impossible not to think about them after you have dealt with a bad incident. At the end of those type of shifts, I always go home and hold them tightly in my arms.

I think the real reason I have chosen to write about this now, is that my role in all this may finally be coming to a close. I am currently waiting for my third dose of talking therapy in twenty years due to the mental stress of the role. I think in jobs like these it is pretty much inevitable that anxiety and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) will raise its ugly head, and there’s only so much you can take.

Besides which, I’m writer now!

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Originally published at https://medium.com/never-stop-writing/decades-of-trauma-1b0d3be81b2c