Back in October, I went on a family holiday to Spain courtesy of some tickets I won through the NHS. You can read about my adventure here.
I have never really spoken about my career since I started this blog. I am an Operating Department Practitioner (ODP) meaning I work mainly in operating theatres, either helping to put people to sleep or assisting the surgeon during surgery. It’s an amazing job yet one with little publicity. I’ve been qualified for 2 years following a 3 year degree.
So, on the fourth night of our spanish trip, my family and I were waiting for the evening entertainment to start, as we had every night previous. The standard routine was to finish our evening meal, head outside to bag a decent table and wait for the children’s disco the finish with the entertainment happening after.
The children’s disco had been the same every night. Two adult entertainers dancing with 20+ kids to the same routine every night. I had briefly watched during the previous evening but being way out of my age range, it wasn’t something I was super excited by.
I had been in the middle of a conversation with my mum when I heard one of the entertainers repeat his colleagues name over and over. I looked up to see all the children gathering around the female entertainer, who was laying on the floor, while the male one looked confused and unsure what to do. I stopped. In my head I was thinking what steps I needed to take. Being a qualified health care professional, its our duty to help the public if they need us. I have plenty of friends who have been in that situation, whether it be assisting with a car accident or someone whose injured themselves in the street. I, however, have managed to avoid any off site incidences.
I continues to watch the crowd for a few more seconds before my body went into overdrive and I found myself weaving in between tables to get to the front.
“Ask the children for some space. Check she is conscious. Ask for a glass of water if she is, Ask for an ambulance if she isn’t.”
I made it to the front and leaned in over the children to see the woman laying on the floor… Then she smiled. It had been part of the act.
As soon as I realised what was going on, I walked very quickly back to my seat, greeted by the laugher of my family as my cheeks burst with embarrassment. unfortunately for me, another table a few in front of us had witness the whole thing and were also laughing. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
At least I tried and if nothing else, it provided a story to tell, entertained the adults and gave me some valuable experience for the future. Perhaps I won’t be so keen to help next time I see a performer on the floor.