Just hold my hand.

"City one you have a priority one call heading towards the water front. Status epilepticus"
Now, before this call I had seen several seizures. A man on a bus suffering a petite mal while holding his 6 months old baby. A young lad at a concert going down with a grand mal inflicted by the strobe lights. Absences of diagnosed epileptics on the netball court. I thought I'd seen them all. Hah!!!!

We arrived at the block of flats in the pouring rain, it was freezing, and in the short walk from the rig to the communal front door of the apartments we were all soaked. "We're after number 4", called the paramedic through her jacket hood. The doors weren't numerically numbered, 1, 6, 2, 8...wtf!!! We finally found four and knocked. The door was ripped open by an angry looking man.
"What the f*** took you so long!? He's been like this for twenty F***ing minutes!!" I was shocked. WHY would you answer the door like that? Let alone to the very people you'd called to help save your sons life!? He quickly ushered us inside and shut the door, pointing us in the direction of a bed in the corner of the single room studio flat.
The man on the bed began yelling and swearing, flopping himself all around the bed, violently flailing his arms around. A colostomy bag was strapped to one of the young mans legs. A quick glance around the room reveled several wheel chairs and sets of weights. This man was a paraplegic from the waist down. I later found out it was caused by a car accident several years eariler. The paramedic began taking obs on the man, asking his father several questions as she handed me a BP cuff. I'd learnt to always talk to your patients, explain to them what you're doing so that don't get startled or take your actions the wrong way. "Hi sir, my names Fly, I'm just going to put this around your arm and take your blood pressure."

He wasn't having a bar of it. His father began yelling at me. "He doesn't know what the f*** you're doing...you need to TALK to him!" I looked at his hands and noticed a drug pipe clutched in his tight fist. He was clearly not someone to be arguing with so I apologized and again tried to explain to his lucid son what I was trying to do. He still violently fought off the BP cuff, attempting to hit me several times before I finally gave up. His father angrily tried to 'explain' the situation. "We were watching tv and then all of a sudden he starts drooling then had a massive seizure. He's NEVER had one before, I don't know what the f*** happened. He's been like this ever since." "So this is not his normal behaviour?", asked the paramedic. "I just f***ing told you he's been like this since the seizure! NO he's not normally like this! F***...I call for an ambulance and they send me a pack of F***ing idiots. " I realized then that this man was still deeply in the clutches of a massive seizure. He was no longer in his mind as it had been taken over by electrical pulses in his brain that had lost their way. His father continued to storm about the room, yelling at us every chance he got. It was frightening. I'd never been in a situation like that before. Moving the young man, who at this stage was still seizing, onto the stretcher to transport him to hospital, was an ordeal made a hundred times worse by his father. The paramedics and I knew how to move this man, but his father insisted we were doing it wrong and the man was almost dropped to the floor and his father flitted about us, ignoring all directions we attempted to give him in a bid for his help to get his son, who was not a slightly built man, onto the bed.

After alot of huffing and puffing the man was in, wrapped in a blanket for his dignity as he was wearing only his underwear, and all strapped in for his own safety. We loaded him into the ambo and set about ensuring he was stable and began filling out the paper work before radioing to COM's on our actions. He started moaning and pulling at the seat belt straps that went across his legs, pelvis and chest, not understanding what was going on or why they were there. I explained to him that he needed to leave them be in order to stop him from falling off the bed, but still he fought to undo them. The more he fought, the more confused and agitated he got, no amount of comforting words from his father or I could calm him down and he managed to undo one of the straps. As I was buckling the strap back together, his hands clamped down tightling onto mine. The paramedic took a step forward, about to pull his hands away from mine. Normally I would have been afraid, but I understand that this man was sick and didn't need to be treated rough, he needed to be treated exactly how I would if I were in his shoes. So I smiled at him. "You can hold my hands if you want. You're probably scared huh?" He looked at me and I saw the faintest part of his personality slowling streaming back into his eyes. Instantly he was calm. The paramedic took a step back and continued with her paper work as we began our trip to hospital.

He smiled at me, a big beautiful smile and took his hands off mine. I held them out for him to hold. He smiled again and gently took my hands, giving them each a slight squeeze then began rubbing his fingers along mine, taking in the rubbery texture of my gloves. "Just hold my hand. We'll be at the hospital soon."