approached the beach a teenager was waving at them wildly from the car park and pointing down the beach to a huddle of people. Vic used the nearby boatramp to access the beach and drove the vehicle straight to where the action seemed to be going down.
The wind had whipped the waves up into choppy peaks and they were crashing against the shore. In the distance she could see the rocky headland where she’d spent many a summer holiday as a child exploring the caves that riddled the area.
Vic hadn’t quite pulled up when Lawson exited. He was at the back doors, opening them and grabbing equipment as Vic turned off the engine. He retrieved the life pack containing the portable monitor, defibrillator and oxygen.
‘Grab some blankets,’ he threw over his shoulder as he slapped his cap on his head and headed for the small group of people nearby.
Vic, pulling her ponytail through her own cap, strode to the back of the ambulance and grabbed two blankets. She didn’t bother to shut the doors, following her partner as fast as she could with significantly shorter legs.
When she reached the patient, Lawson was kneeling in the wet sand, hooking up an oxygen mask while five girls all in wet bikinis and various stages of hysteria spoke to him at once.
‘Excuse me.’ Vic raised her voice to cut through the emotion. The group parted and she knelt beside her partner. The patient was lying supine in his boardies, wet and cold and gasping like a fish out of water. And about as grey as one. His mouth was ringed with sand, his lips tinged a dusky purple.
But he was conscious, if a little stunned. And he was breathing, although it seemed somewhat laboured. Lawson had already placed a collar on his neck.
‘Just popping some oxygen on, Michael,’ Lawson said as he applied the mask.
Vic threw the blanket over the patient using the cotton weave to dry the teenager’s chest to ensure the electrodes she was applying would stick. A green squiggly line spiked to life on the monitor. His heart rate was a little on the slow side. She placed a peg-like device on Michael’s finger and watched as his oxygen saturations registered in the high eighties—far from satisfactory.
Vic got a cobbled history from Jacinta, who identified herself as Michael’s sister. ‘He just got dumped by this massive wave. He didn’t come up again,’ she wailed. Vic marked everything down on the large patient care sheet, including the observations and his personal details.
Lawson watched as his patient’s lips pinked up and the oxygen saturations climbed steadily. Michael moaned and then coughed, which changed quickly to spasmodic retching as it continued. Lawson removed the mask, quickly helping the teenager roll on his side as his patient spewed up a bellyful of sea water onto the sand. He flicked on the portable suction.
‘It’s okay, mate,’ he murmured, resisting Michael’s feeble attempts to push the Yankeur sucker away as he cleared his airway. ‘Better out than in.’
Michael stopped retching and Lawson pulled the mask back over his patient’s nose and mouth. He placed a stethoscope in his ears and listened to the shallow breath sounds.
‘Let’s scoop him and go,’ Lawson murmured.
Ten minutes later Michael was in the back of the ambulance with Lawson and Vic had radioed Coms of their twenty-minute ETA at hospital. Jacinta rode in the front seat with Vic, a blanket draped around her shoulders.
An hour later Vic put her signature to the completed paperwork she’d finished up in the privacy of the accident and emergency staff room. She handed it over to the nurse in charge and headed back to the ambulance bay and their vehicle.
Lawson was lounging against a wall near the exit, the five girls from the beach, still in their tiny bikini tops and brief boardies, gathered round him. They were obviously now sufficiently recovered from their shock and ever so grateful to the big, strong paramedic.
Vic grinned as she heard them asking him about
The wind had whipped the waves up into choppy peaks and they were crashing against the shore. In the distance she could see the rocky headland where she’d spent many a summer holiday as a child exploring the caves that riddled the area.
Vic hadn’t quite pulled up when Lawson exited. He was at the back doors, opening them and grabbing equipment as Vic turned off the engine. He retrieved the life pack containing the portable monitor, defibrillator and oxygen.
‘Grab some blankets,’ he threw over his shoulder as he slapped his cap on his head and headed for the small group of people nearby.
Vic, pulling her ponytail through her own cap, strode to the back of the ambulance and grabbed two blankets. She didn’t bother to shut the doors, following her partner as fast as she could with significantly shorter legs.
When she reached the patient, Lawson was kneeling in the wet sand, hooking up an oxygen mask while five girls all in wet bikinis and various stages of hysteria spoke to him at once.
‘Excuse me.’ Vic raised her voice to cut through the emotion. The group parted and she knelt beside her partner. The patient was lying supine in his boardies, wet and cold and gasping like a fish out of water. And about as grey as one. His mouth was ringed with sand, his lips tinged a dusky purple.
But he was conscious, if a little stunned. And he was breathing, although it seemed somewhat laboured. Lawson had already placed a collar on his neck.
‘Just popping some oxygen on, Michael,’ Lawson said as he applied the mask.
Vic threw the blanket over the patient using the cotton weave to dry the teenager’s chest to ensure the electrodes she was applying would stick. A green squiggly line spiked to life on the monitor. His heart rate was a little on the slow side. She placed a peg-like device on Michael’s finger and watched as his oxygen saturations registered in the high eighties—far from satisfactory.
Vic got a cobbled history from Jacinta, who identified herself as Michael’s sister. ‘He just got dumped by this massive wave. He didn’t come up again,’ she wailed. Vic marked everything down on the large patient care sheet, including the observations and his personal details.
Lawson watched as his patient’s lips pinked up and the oxygen saturations climbed steadily. Michael moaned and then coughed, which changed quickly to spasmodic retching as it continued. Lawson removed the mask, quickly helping the teenager roll on his side as his patient spewed up a bellyful of sea water onto the sand. He flicked on the portable suction.
‘It’s okay, mate,’ he murmured, resisting Michael’s feeble attempts to push the Yankeur sucker away as he cleared his airway. ‘Better out than in.’
Michael stopped retching and Lawson pulled the mask back over his patient’s nose and mouth. He placed a stethoscope in his ears and listened to the shallow breath sounds.
‘Let’s scoop him and go,’ Lawson murmured.
Ten minutes later Michael was in the back of the ambulance with Lawson and Vic had radioed Coms of their twenty-minute ETA at hospital. Jacinta rode in the front seat with Vic, a blanket draped around her shoulders.
An hour later Vic put her signature to the completed paperwork she’d finished up in the privacy of the accident and emergency staff room. She handed it over to the nurse in charge and headed back to the ambulance bay and their vehicle.
Lawson was lounging against a wall near the exit, the five girls from the beach, still in their tiny bikini tops and brief boardies, gathered round him. They were obviously now sufficiently recovered from their shock and ever so grateful to the big, strong paramedic.
Vic grinned as she heard them asking him about
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