ADVENTUROUS JOURNEY[1]

Wearing their full luminescent clothing and armed with at least one black bag I watched with detached interest as a well built man and a slight blonde haired woman came to have a look at me.

I found I was able to make some sounds now, but the words would not form correctly. I think I got over to them, via Wendy, that I could understand. They performed various tests; “Could I squeeze their fingers with mine?”; “Could I lift both legs with the same upward force?”; “Could I lift both arms, one at a time against force?”.

They were methodically looking for any sign of paralysis. Wendy mentioned that it seemed as if I had a very slight left side weakness in my mouth. I was asked to smile and to bare my teeth. It was felt maybe there was a weakness on the right. Had it changed sides?

More movement and another young man entered the room. Apparently there was a helicopter up in our top field. That would have been no easy matter as the upper field is criss-crossed with power cables.

Conversations were taking place as to whether I should be taken in by ambulance or helicopter, but first I had to be taken to one or the other.

I realised that we were approaching the  point where I would be moved and so felt it would be a good idea to visit the loo before any journey. I managed to make it known that I considered that I would be able to walk to our ground floor bathroom, but I was obviously a little concerned that my legs might not work correctly.

I was assisted to my feet by the ambulance lady and felt reasonably comfortable walking to the bathroom. Our neighbour and great friend had arrived. He is a burly eighty-two year old crofter with six left feet, who was actually born in our house, back-pedalled through the hallway towards the bathroom in front of me, tripping over slippers, shoes and tossing umbrellas into my path, making the journey to the bathroom far more hazardous, but much more interesting than it would otherwise have been!

That visit accomplished without problem, I was then asked if I could walk to the ambulance, a distance of some ten metres or so with just half a dozen shallow steps up to the parking area.

The crews had decided that I should be taken up the road from our house to a more level area and, from there the decision would be taken as to how I should be transferred to the helicopter.

Despite my offer, the ambulance man was none too keen to let me drive the ambulance and I was strapped in the back. I think his female colleague was none too confident that the ambulance would actually get up the slope from the house.

In the past I had had no problem getting a sixteen seat minibus up to the house in dry conditions, but it always took nerve and a serious amount of “wellie” to get up that slope behind our steading.

The rear double wheels slipped against the side walls of the road. I felt the driver keep the speed steady and must admit he did a brilliant job considering the unknown nature of the road.

At the top of the hill we came to a halt and there was another short conference between the air and ground ambulance crews during which it was decided to continue with me in the ambulance down to the village and then transfer me to the helicopter on the village shinty pitch, or cricket ground as the locals know it. There was some concern about the fading daylight as we set off to continue along the dirt track towards the A82.

The journey to the village was uneventful and I remember the back of the ambulance being opened. It was already dusk and the helicopter was standing nearby with the rotors still turning. There were a number of spectators around and I am quite pleased that I was able to provide some interesting entertainment for all of the kids at the scene. It is amazing how many people saw the transfer without knowing who was actually involved. “My God, was that you?” being the comment I heard most often when I was back in circulation.

Being transferred from stretcher to stretcher is the most unnerving experience as there is a great feeling of helplessness and not a little worry of falling off or being dropped. Maybe a little more reassurance would be in order during this process. I am sure they would not have dropped me, but it was not a very secure experience. I was shortly being lifted feet first into the helicopter and then slid into a specially created area in the port fuselage.

No sooner was I in place and strapped in than I felt the machine lift into the sky. My only regret is that I couldn’t see too much from my position. I’ve always loved helicopters.

I could hear the communications through the earphones provided and I was certainly well enough to understand everything that was going on, clearly hearing the automated warnings as the helicopter lost height on approach to Raigmore hospital. I was asked how I was every now and then, but I knew my replies were slow, deliberate yet still badly slurred

In seemingly no time we were on the ground and there was yet another of those scary transfers between stretchers as I was taken by another ambulance to the casualty department.

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