Playing in the hot weather
- Status Update
By Shere'e Robinson
The wonderful Baroness of Wyewood posted this yesterday. She gave me permission to re-post this. It is something to keep in mind when the weather is this hot.
The Tale of the Tongue Blade
I'm told this story is getting lost in the mists of SCA time, so I thought it best before I reteach my class on Heat Injury, I retell this story.
Many... many many many lots... moons ago, I became a Baronial Chirurgeon (head first aid person) . And I inherited a kit. A baronial kit. Wowness.
Then I had a day off and inventoried the wowness, and it was down graded to "Oh, shit." I threw out 75-90% of an out of date kit (some 7-9 years out of date). And vowed, God as my witness, I will never let this happen. And being incredibly anal retentive, wrote and inventory list with numbers. Every 3 months without fail, I inventoried that kit, and checked expiration.
For 5 years.
After 3 years, I was not having a very good night, and it occurred to me I had inventoried 54 tongue blades (careful counting them- remember, A-R) at least 12 times. I lost my temper, threw them across the room, and vented on the 7th Cav list.
"What in the name of Holy God do you use tongue blades for? And WHY 54 of them?"
I got some good, responsible answers. Actual tongue blades- it is a rare and freakish occurrence and 1st aid provider looks in your mouth or throat. Medication application- I've got gloves for that. Splints- I've also faithfully inventoried the finger splint I bought for 2 years.
Then Dame Rowan stepped in, and made An Tir history.
"IV splint" She'd learned as Army medic, no matter how sick and dehydrated a male is, there is one viable peripheral, can't miss, IV site. But since it's on the back of the penis, you need the splint to keep things from running away on you, as it were...
This message went out to the entire, at the time I believe 400+ mailing addresses. You could almost hear the hands clamping down in front of computer screens. Then it was shared.
Next major SCA event, I sweetly asked the Marshall in Charge if I might address the troops as a CiC (Chirurgeon in charge). He saw what I was holding, grinned and said, "Please, if you will."
I held up a bag of 500cc LR with a tongue blade strapped to it with medical tape. "Water bearers or me, boys. Your call. ... Thank you, marshal."
Not one damn heat injury in Madrone for 2 years.