Last Tuesday at a suburban petrol station a woman burned inside a car. Withstab wounds and near 100% burns she spoke to paramedics on scene.

She died later that night in hospital.

I spoke to paramedics who had heard the gruesome details first-hand from those on scene. Of how they felt that this was the worst scene a paramedic could attend. And of some paramedic’s relief that it hadn’t been them on scene.

I read in the local paper, the Knox Leader (June 8, 2010 – words by – Adrian Bernecich), about a hero grappling with the horror of the day. Dean Filmer showed all that is good about humanity by trying to help despite the carnage and danger. He’s also going to seek counselling after all that he’d witnessed.

I just hope the paramedic’s who attended this patient seek counselling themselves. No training or life experience could prepare a paramedic for what happened that day. Those that transported the woman to hospital would have had her cries and pleas in their ears for the long journey to one of the city trauma centres. They would have fought to keep her comfortable despite her skin peeling away at the slightest touch.

These people, the paramedics, will grapple with this horror for a long time to come and the community will probably never understand this battle.

To papers, like the Knox Leader, don’t forget that paramedics are people too. Nasty things take their toll.

I think they deserved a foot-note after this job.

Rumour has it that a much loved ambo – out the east side of Melbourne – has handed back his MICA pips and picked up his “regular” ambo ones, for good.

While this is an obvious loss to the MICA community, it’s a great thing for the road crews in Melbourne.

With his experience and approachable demeanour, new students and experienced “roadies” will stand to benefit from his knowledge.

I know this from personal experience.

Good luck and best wishes.

If there is one thing in life that I’ve learnt. People over complicate things.

Back in the day I had a hell of a time passing my university degree. I always had questions floating around in my head about everything I’d learned. To many whys and not enough acceptance. All this did was to brick up any further learning. Then I’d start falling behind.

I vowed never to go back.

Then I did.

This time I accepted what I was told. I kept up. I went home and read. I answered those questions in my head, in my own time, at my own pace. The simplicity of it all just clicked.

This is why, if I can, I break everything down to its most simple form. Even being a paramedic.

So here’s the theory:

• When you meet the patient find out first if they’re alive, dying or dead. This should be fairly obvious.
• If they’re gasping give them oxygen. If they’re not breathing, start CPR and pop the defibrillator on. If they look like they’ve had a big trauma, have someone stabilise their neck. If the blood’s pouring out, stop it. Otherwise take a breath.
• The next step is to find out what’s wrong. I reckon the best way is to ask them. See, simple is nearly always the best.
• Get a baseline. Conscious state, blood pressures and heart rates, see how well their breathing is. This’ll give you an idea as to whether they’re getting worse or if your treatment is working.
• Treat what you can treat and transport.
• Done, QED, keep it simple stupid.

This is just the standard clinical approach. Don’t over complicate it.

You’ll fix the diabetic hypos, and the heroin overdoses. But if they’re sick I say leave it to the folks that earn the big bucks. There’s only so much you can carry anyway.

Complaining about the state of the nation and the world appears to be our national pastime. At least for now.

From the snouts in the trough excess as seen in the recent Pacific Brands white collar pay rises, while the blue collars were left jobless. To looters stealing from those who’ve lost everything. Yes they’re a pack of scumbags.

Then the other night I received a dose of reality. The real side of humanity.

We were called to transport a small child, about 5 years old and his mum to the major children’s hospital in town. He’d had a couple of seizures and needed to get a thorough once over from the neuro specialists.

The boy had cerebral palsy and had experienced seizures before. This time, however, the seizures were more severe and generalised unlike the absence seizures that he’d had before.

They’d been in the emergency department for the last four hours and the boy was in a sedated but restless sleep. Mum looked exhausted but sat watching over her son even though it was 2 am.

She said to me later that she feared that if she closed her eyes he’d be gone. He wasn’t her only son but at the moment he was everything in the world to her.

This is what life is about. The love for one another. The caring. The sharing.

Life has nothing to do with paychecks and Porches. TVs and thievery.

It was all I could do to make her smile.

Melbourne’s raging bush fires, an inferno of unprecedented proportions. A death toll that as I write has just exceeded 200. This brings fear to me. My mind flashes to what happened to these poor folk. Their pain and suffering. Was it quick? God I hope so.

I’ve never had to attend to a burns patient before, but I’ve heard stories.

I’ve been to hangings. To stabbings. To beatings. But nothing compares to the fury of nature at her angriest.

I run through in my head what I would do if I was called out to help a bushfire survivor.

The dangers. Are they responding? Breathing? Talking…screaming. F*ck.

Just take their pain and suffering away, for Gods sake. Find a vein, shaking hands. The heat.

Scoop and go. Fast. They need fluids. Where are their burns, goddammit. Airway? Backup?

Thank god for the CFA. Thank god for the volunteers. Thank god for the locals. Thank god for the ambos that attended to the survivors.

Sleep well if you can. You deserve your rest.