I looked down at his small body, thinking that this time, I would make a difference.
He was breathing 2 minutes ago.
He was at school earlier that same day.
Maybe its just respiratory arrest?
He had a pulse as we moved him from the front room where I found him lying on the settee, looking nothing like a young boy sleeping, but instead like a much younger version of the hundreds of patients that have either died in my presence or have been dead before I even had a chance to help them.
I placed him onto the stretcher, carrying him out of the house in my arms rather than placing him on a carry chair.
He was small for a teenager.
“Does he normally have any medical problems Mum?”
My partner puts the leads on his body whilst I give him a couple of breaths.
“Does he have an output with that?”
We both check………
Mum is standing at the back door of the ambulance, a look of blissful ignorance on her face, certain that we will help her son.
I look down at him, then I turn my head to the side and quickly glance at mum.
Silently, I curse to myself
As I start compressions I try harder than I have ever tried before to block out the sounds of his mother screaming at the back door of the ambulance, and I know that in that one moment, I will never, ever forget that sound.