Blood, Sweat & Tea, page 29 by Tom Reynolds
<< Return to Title Details & Download30
ivation for cooking food, not least because of the large amount of washing up accruing in my sink. It makes me feel like a student again.
Also, my PC is screaming out for a complete overhaul - I just can't be bothered.
Mothering Sunday
Well, Saturday was the last day I worked but Greenfairy (another blogger) mentioned something that I wanted to write about - but forgot, for some bizarre reason...
The first call of Saturday was to a '?suspended'.*
*'?Suspended' means 'Query Suspended' which means that the patient might be suspended (a.k.a 'dead') - we don't know, they might just be asleep, or drunk, or have a high temperature or a cut finger, but the person calling us is a twit
So we hack along the road, knowing full well that because it is the first job of the day the patient is definitely going to be dead.
We arrive at the house and the FRU is there before us - I grab my kit and bound up the stairs past the daughter who called us and into the bedroom. Where a very dead lady was lying on the bed while the Rapid Responder was completing his paperwork.
One look is all you need to tell if someone has been dead for sometime - and this lady had that look. It turned out that the daughter last saw her mother alive an hour ago, but that she was feeling a little unwell and took to bed. The daughter had checked on her half an hour later and found her not breathing. She then waited 20minutes to call us as she was in such a 'tizzy'. A quick look told us that even if we had been there when it had happened it was unlikely we could do much: various clues led us to think that a stomach ulcer had ruptured and she had bled out into her stomach.
All around the house were flowers and cards - the next day being Mothering Sunday.
No sooner than we had informed the daughter that her mother had died than the doorbell went and my crewmate went down to see who it was. It was only a bleedin' flower delivery man, delivering flowers to the (now) dearly departed. My crewmat