A Chance - Part 1

"82 year old male, collapse, ? seizure, O/S"

This wasn't just a collapse in the street, this was a cardiac arrest on a residential street on a weekday afternoon. It was witnessed by neighbours, family members and children. For many of them, it will be the single most distressing thing they will ever have the misfortune to see. Cardiac arrest survival is always improving but survival relies on a three things:

Early CPR. If CPR isn't started by a bystander within a couple of minutes the chances of survival decreases by 10% for every minute that passes. It takes an ambulance roughly 8 minutes to arrive. No CPR in progress means only a 20% chance of survival and they'd most likely be brain damaged. 4 minutes without CPR means the brain will almost certainly be damaged, regardless of whether we can start the heart again.

Early intervention. We need to arrive quickly to do advanced life support. On top of the CPR we need to secure an airway, oxygenate the patient, de-fibrillate and give various drugs to try and start the heart again then stabilise the patient and transport.

Good definitive care. A hospital with a crash team and any specialities that are required to treat the cause and assist recovery. Once stabilised, the long road of treatment lays ahead before the ultimate goal of discharge is reached. Only then do the government get what they want.....a return to tax paying status.

Miss one of those three and it is quite simply, Game Over.

"UPDATE: Patient now in cardiac arrest, CPR in progress"

I felt my foot push down on the accelerator, drop-gear kicks in and I accelerate. I'm only about half a mile away, I'm likely to be first there and on my own. Scrap that, as I crossed the next roundabout an ambulance appeared in my rear view mirror, driving with the same intent I was. We pulled into the street and headed to the crowd. About 8 adults of various ages waved frantically in the road. I screeched to a halt, grabbed my bag and rushed over. Lying on the pavement was an elderly man with CPR being done by a 13 year old boy. All the adults started talking / shouting at me trying to tell me what happened when the boy doing CPR shouted...

"QUIET.....I saw this man fall to the floor, he had a fit for about a minute so I called 999. He then stopped breathing and the lady on the phone told me to roll him over and start CPR. I've been doing it since. I've also done rescue breaths like I was shown in first aid."

Wow! Just wow! Despite the chaos the adults were causing, a 13 year old boy had taken the initiative and done an incredible job. I was so amazed. He didn't even know the guy, just saw him collapse while walking to a friends house. If the patient survives it will be down to him and him alone. I was a tad speechless. Clearly someone has had the sense to teach him first aid.

Whilst talking to him, one of the ambulance crew took over CPR and we began the 'Advanced Life Support' part of his treatment. As chaotic as these situations are it is important to recognise and encourage the efforts of others. Like I said, this is the most distressing thing they will ever see and they need to know they did well. As I have mentioned before, a resus is not as glamorous as 'Casualty' and 'Holby City' would have you believe. It isn't a case of a few gently chest compressions, a shock after rubbing metal pads together, shouting 'Clear' and one shock followed by High 5s and celebrations. It's messy and to be quite frank, brutal. 

The patient had been incontinent of urine and his stomach contents was filling his mouth which required constant suctioning through the airway. There was the unmistakable sound of ribs cracking, when the cannula went in there was a lot of blood. Throughout the resus this blood got spread about onto gloves and kit. To gain further IV access we drilled into his shoulder and his clothes were cut off. There is no dignity in a public cardiac arrest and no way to soften the blow to the watching friends, neighbours and family. With every shock, the electricity surges through the body causing it to jolt violently. All the while there is someone forcing air into his lungs, there is someone doing CPR with enough power to physically squash his heart through the rib cage to pump the blood around the body. I'm knelt by his side vocalising everything we are doing, giving drugs, trying to ignore the watchful eyes, many of whom are crying. This is the reality of a resus. Brutal.

After 5 or 6 shocks from the defibrillator his heart rhythm changed to one that couldn't be shocked. He had what is known as pulseless electrical activity (PEA). All we could do was continue CPR and push through adrenaline every few minutes. After half an hour or so we knew we had to go. There was nothing more we could do here, his only chance remained at the hospital.

To be continued.........