Well that's an hour of my life I will never get back. I've just returned from a meeting of First Aid officers. Every time I go to one of these things I am reminded how much I hate first aiders.I came to first aid through a circuitous route. I started by qualifying for a Bronze Medallion with the Royal Life Saving Society. I didn't pursue this due to any great altruistic desire to help my fellow man – I was just avoiding having to play school basketball. If you thought I was bad at cycling you should see me in a sport where a ball is involved!
Anyway, one thing led to another and I worked my way up to the Distinction qualification... the threat of basketball was still lurking in the wings. When I moved to the coast for uni I somehow got caught up in surf life saving. Because you might actually have to save someone in the surf (as compared to yelling at kids to “get off the lane ropes” in the pool) one of the things required is a first aid certificate which I duly acquired... and thus began my exposure to first aiders.
Now my view of the role of a first aider is simple: the job involves attempting to stop the condition of a patient deteriorating until advanced medical assistance arrives. That would be those guys - and girls - who turn up in a white wagon that has disco lights on the roof and a Whitney Houston song playing over the loud speaker. (I could be wrong about the artist - but Whitney sure sounds similar!!) I'm going out on a limb here but I'm guessing an Ambo's training involves more than two days of lectures, demonstrations and tests. Surely they get at least a week!?
I've always been bemused during the practical exams that conclude first aid courses as “patients” with an unlikely list of conditions are trussed up like turkeys by over zealous bandage wielders.
Unless you are stuck in the middle of nowhere and the ambulance is an hour away why apply the sling / splint / bandage / wound dressing / improvised collar / Band Aid? By the time you finish all that the Ambos will be standing around looking bored and wondering why you bothered to call them if you won't let them near the patient until you have exhausted your overstocked first aid kit.
I fear I am very much in the minority with this view. If you listen to my colleagues you would think that a crucial aspect of the role is to diagnose the ills afflicting the patient. Why go to a radiologist who needs expensive imaging equipment to diagnose a broken bone when a competent first aider is able to identify the exact problem by the pitch and volume of the screams you issue as they apply the splint?
And the thing that really bugs me? The war stories. Whenever two or more first aiders are gathered together there is at least one who insists on talking about the time they were faced with a serious case of blistering caused by high heels. “That thing was at least 5mm across!” Or the time they were battled a life threatening paper cut. “I mean there was blood!” Or when they had to ring the ambulance because someone had chest pain. “It turned out the bandage I applied to deal with the pimple on their back was too tight... but it could have been serious!”
Why does this "sharing of experience" bother me so much? While these veterans of the trenches prattle on about their moments of glory they are taking up valuable time I could use to tell you about this one time when I had a patient suffering from...
Tortoise
