ambulance service

To the Emergency Services at Christmas

You have no holiday, to make our holiday safe.

May your day be quiet…

May your duties be light…

And may your dreams be untroubled afterwards.

Thank you all.

(These badges are Irish - National Police, National Ambulance and, lacking a national fire service, badges for Dublin and our local Wicklow brigade. Feel free to add your own local badges if you reblog. And raise a glass to them.)

Darlie Routier - A Mother’s Undoing.

The day of June 6, 1996, had been a busy one for the Routier family of Rowlett, Texas. Father Darin put the family’s infant son in his crib and bade goodnight to his wife Darlie and two sons, Damon (5) and Devon (6), who were sleeping together downstairs in the rec room. He went upstairs to the bedroom and went to sleep.

Darin was startled awake some time later by the sound of his wife Darlie screaming for help. Dashing downstairs, Mr Routier discovered a scene of utter carnage; his two sons bleeding heavily from knife wounds, his wife screaming hysterically with a knife injury of her own, and the kitchen in shambles. Darlie gasped incoherently about an intruder standing over her with a knife and his escape from a window in the utility room. Darrin Routier bravely tried to administer CPR on his sons, but it was too late; both boys had died by the time police and ambulance services arrived. The cause of death was determined to be punctured lungs due to knife wounds, and the deaths ruled a homicide.

Darlie was taken to hospital to have the slash wound on her neck treated. She was still hysterical, but managed to tell the same story about a medium-tall intruder dressed in black clothes and a baseball cap mounting her as she slept on the sofa. She denied hearing the intruder kill her sons, and admitted to picking up the knife the killer had dropped on the floor. The only motive for the crime that she gave investigators was simply ‘Robbery’.

Police carefully combed the Routier house for any clues that might prove useful. Immediately investigators noticed certain conflicting details:

- Darlie claimed the killer was an intruder whose motive was robbery, but the murder weapon was an ordinary kitchen knife that belonged to the Routier home.

- Despite the robbery going awry, the attacker didnt take anything with them; several peices of expensive jewelery was on the kitchen counter and Darlie’s purse was in the same room. The kitchen was noticably shambolic as if someone had hurriedly tried to stage the room to look as if it had been robbed.

- The window and broken screen the intruder was supposed to enter and exit the house from was free from bloodstains and disturbances, and the soft ground bore no fresh tracks. The offender would have been covered in blood from the brutal attack, yet there were no reports of suspicious persons or discarded clothing at any point during the investigation.

- A Luminol test administered during the crime scene examination showed several blood spatters and a childs bloody handprint had been wiped clean from the leatherette sofa suite. A flower vase had also been wiped down and arranged to look as if it had been knocked to the floor. A bloody scrap of towel was discovered, and sections of the kitchen counter had been scrubbed. Someone had tried to destroy evidence, but why?

It became apparent to police that Darlie Routier had something to hide, especially when she adamantly stuck to her story about the intruder. As they delved deeper into her life and marriage, a different picture of the pretty blonde housewife began to emerge. Darlie had suffered from post partum depression, she had voiced her frustrations over coping with her children, and - most interestingly of all - that she and Darrin were facing banktrupcy and a lifestyle change. Darlie liked nice things, and didnt want to settle for a more modest standard of living. The marriage grew tense and stressed, until finally it all came to a head; in the most hellish way possible.

While police focused their interests on Darlie, the mother herself was causing a stir amongst her family and friends. Nurses at the hospital who treated her said she didnt seem particularly perturbed over the deaths of her sons and appeared “bored and disinterested” whenever anyone tried to console her. When the family got together, everyone cried except Darlie; nobody ever saw her shed a single tear, and she talked more about wanting to replace the carpet and pick out new curtains than she did about the funeral arrangements. On the day the Routiers bade farewell to their sons, Darlie remained stoic yet was heard whispering “I’m sorry” to the boys caskets.

When the media interest waned, police again moved to make a case against Darlie. They seized the dispatch call for the night the boys died and collected photographs of the chaotic crime scene. Even when they believed they had enough evidence, investigators waited for the grieving mother to mis-step.

Some months later Darlie and Darrin organized a posthumous seventh birthday party for Devon at his graveside. TV crews converged to film the event, and soon the grave was crowded with presents, flowers, and soft toys. To the horror of everyone present, Darlie produced a can of Silly String and sprayed it all over her dead son’s grave as the priest delivered a speech. Darlie passed it off as having fun, but many thought it inappropriate behavior from a bereaved parent. The police certainely did. They arrested Darlie four days later and charged her with two counts of capital murder.

Darlie Routier was now literally on trial for her life. The prosecution presented a solid case against her, and successfuly painted her as a callous social climber and neglectful mother. The defense retaliated by rehashing the intruder story and reiterating how much she had loved her sons. Despite their valiant efforts, Darlie Routier was found guilty of murdering her two sons and sentenced to Death Row, where she still resides. Her case has sparked calls for criminal reform, and there is still a solid percentage of the American population that believes a miscarriage of justice has occured, and Darlie is innocent.

Top marks to London police and Ambulance services for handling the situation effectively and calmly. You guys show so much bravery.
Same goes to civilians who helped the injured while the attack was still taking place.
We don’t know what its all about, only certainty is that our servicemen and women are brilliant!

themenasaur  asked:

wait lmao how many times /have/ you died??????

Officially? I think it was twice when I was born and still in the hospital (I was too small/weak and flatlined twice), with a third possible brush with death which was averted by a quick thinking midwife who managed to get me breathing again before the ambulance service arrived. She was in the house next door, helping with a home delivery, when she heard my mother screaming that I wouldn’t wake up. I was still less than a year old at that point.

And then there was last year inside the CT scanner listening to my own heart go frantic as I went into anaphylactic shock and then woke up a few minutes later with an epi-pen being pulled from my leg.

So 2 official and 2 nearly?

‘Last night, we slept in a hotel with an English-speaking owner where there were no fleas, and were shaved in the latest “scream” in American barber chairs, the barber having been ten years in New Haven. He installed this splendor in a corner and gets only three clients a day!’

WW1 American ambulance driver’s diary - Behind the Wheel of a War Ambulance

Since 2015, the prince has worked as a helicopter pilot for the East Anglian Air Ambulance Service. There, he works 9.5 hour shifts, clocking up an average of 20 hours per week - the salary for which is donated to charity.

Based on these hours and the royal engagements, Prince William will have worked the equivalent of 34 of the possible 53 working days in 2017 so far.

forbes.com
There Is Never A 'Free Market' In Health Care
We count on Republicans to deliver pragmatic, sensible solutions that foster a culture of business growth, but when it comes to health care Republicans are off their meds.
By Chris Ladd

The medical industry exists almost entirely to serve people who have been rendered incapable of representing their own interests in an adversarial transaction. When I need health services I often need them in a way that is quite different from my desire for a good quality television or a fine automobile. As I lie unconscious under a bus, I am in no position to shop for the best provider of ambulance services at the most reasonable price. All personal volition is lost. Whatever happens next, it will not be a market transaction.

What We Know So Far: Westminster Terror Attack
  • At least four people died — including one police officer and the attacker — and at least 20 were injured in a Westminster attack on Wednesday afternoon that police are investigating as potential terrorism.
  • The attack began when a vehicle driving over Westminster Bridge rammed into several pedestrians. The injured included three police officers returning from a commendation ceremony.
  • The London Ambulance Service confirmed that it treated 10 injured people on the bridge. Graphic photos from the scene showed several people injured on the ground.
  • After the vehicle crashed into railings at the Palace of Westminster, a man armed with a knife continued the attack.
  • The officer who was stabbed before the attacker was shot by armed police was not immediately unidentified. A government minister administered CPR, but the officer ultimately died.
  • Many politicians inside parliament were evacuated by armed police, while other areas remained in lockdown.
  • A large area around Westminster remains cordoned off and police say the operation is ongoing.
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This may be the best thing ever

Payback

As a cashier in a truck stop, shady people are pretty common to see… and this goes to show how even shady people come in all varieties…

About 4 hours into my shift, one of my good friend stopped in to chat with me for awhile. He works as a volunteer medic on the local ambulance service; he was on call & where i work is a couple minutes away from the ambulance base… he was getting coffee when a pair of teenagers come in.

The one blonde guy i kinda recognize from when i went to high school… he’s only a year or 2 younger… i rang his sale up and that was that… his brunette buddy on the other hand…

Guy #2 puts a bottle of wine on the counter & a big cloud of marijuana just hits me in the face from this guy… dealing with so many potheads in the area, its nothing outside of normal… so asked for this guy’s ID, of course he wants to mock me & give me a hard time about having to pull it out for me.

He asked me if i cant tell he’s old enough by his beard… he has just has a tiny little patch of facial hair on his chin not even bigger than a thumb print, a wussy attempt at a beard… and i tell him so.

“With a wussy beard like that, its hard to tell how old you are.”

He doesnt hear me & i’m not going to repeat myself a million times so i verified his ID & finished the sale… not even catching onto what his blonde friend is going on about til after they walked out. My medic friend has been parked at the counter the whole time this is going down…

My friend points out to me that the 2 guys rode together… in a 7-seater van that is holding at least 9 people & half of them look underaged & under influence… that is all very, very illegal… so our best bet is to call this situation into Dispatch to have a cop come out to investigate.

As my friend is grabbing his phone out to call the Police, guy #2 comes storming back in and throws a pen down on the counter.

“Who owns this store? I want their name & number. You will not disrespect a customer like that. Saying I have pussy-fur on my face”

(Erm… what? Pussy fur? Where the hell did that come from?)

“I am not obligated to hand out any personal phone numbers regardless of who asks. If you want to complain to my manager, you may call the store in the morning. For the record, that wasnt even remotely close to what i said.”

This idiot is trying to grab at me from across the counter now!

“Come here! No ugly bitch is going to insult me and get away with it!”

So my friend, Adam, grabs the guy & shoves him back.

“I’m going to call you into the local police department. Stay or run, we have a name & license plate for you and all your underaged stoner friends. I’ll make sure to file a verbal assault report again you for insulting my girlfriend. She did NOT say pussy fur, she said you had a wussy beard!”

Of course, the guy guns it out the door & we filed a police report. I hope they found them because I dont wish for Adam to end them cutting their mangled bodies from a car accident later…