By day a mild-mannered janitor, by night an off-duty mild-mannered janitor.

By day a mild-mannered janitor, by night an off-duty mild-mannered janitor.
................by day a mild-mannered janitor, by night an off-duty mild-mannered janitor...............

Saturday 30 June 2012

999 Isn't A Joke



On Tuesday I watched Uncle Ray have a heart attack. He's not my Uncle Ray, but housemate Sal's and everyone whose ever met him calls him that too. So, a heart attack eh? It wasn't like Don Corleone's or Superman's adopted dad's, no gripping of the upper arm, no giant redwood fall to the ground, just, "I don't feel too good."

His hands were dark red, the rest of him ashen white, he didn't want to make a fuss but people ring 999 if they've forgotten their lottery numbers so...
I've watched tele so knew what to do - I loosened my clothing, boiled up some towels and waited for Quincy to show up.

The local rapid response guy appeared first, followed closely by an Amazon delivery ['Yes Minister/Prime Minister' box set, a snip at £13] followed by three men in an ambulance. Mister Rapid Response was soon muscled out of things and I felt sorry for him, craning his neck to get a look at the machine that goes 'ping'...
A ticker-tape [no pun intended, and hopefully none taken] reading came out of said machine, Uncle Ray covered in plastic nipples and wires...
"Vent 1, fine........vent 2, nothing there....vent 3 WHOAH! Asprin!"

There now followed an interview where Uncle Ray was economical with the actuals - he didn't tell them about his nothing-until-2PM diet, his smoking, his parents history of heart problems or his brother's triple-bypass operation...
"I did take an asprin years ago and it upset my stomach a bit..."
"Take it, just take it."

Mister Rapid Response was visibly shaken. Uncle Ray was strapped to a chair and lifted into the ambulance...
"The suspension on those things are appalling, I was thrown all over the shop!" He would later remark.

It was lucky I was on a late shift and there when it happened, but I don't believe Uncle Ray would've left it much longer before ringing for help - basic desire to survive kicks in eventually. If you feel unwell and it's not a normal sort of unwell - a cold, sore throat, something you tend to get anyway - ring 999.




He's back home, reunited with pooch Harry & contemplating a low-fat fridge, there's also an ounce of 'Drum' hand-rolling tobacco on ebay.

Sadly, on New Year's Eve 2013, Ray had another heart attack while driving. He passed away a few days later. We have Harry now.

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