The other day my dad went to a fund raiser for the Royal Flying Doctor Service. It was at the Hilton Hotel, or Hilton on the Park as it's now trendily called. This official pass-the-hat/write-a-cheque sheebang consisted of a lunch and demonstrations of the RFDS's capabilities. There was a video hook-up to Peter Cosgrove in Tyndall. There was another hook-up with the RFDS base in Perth where they got to witness, third hand, a day at the coalface. Button pressing, radio calling. Control room stuff. And of course, guests were treated to a time honoured standard at these affairs, a selection of either pressed chicken or beef curry, creme brulei and a bad Chardonnay.
Each table consisted of four pairs of people accompanied by an RFDS operative. In the case of my dad's table, a paramedic from the UK who worked out of somewhere in Queensland. Chartersminkamulla or somewhere just as inaccessible. Or unpronouncable.
The lunch was progressing apiece and a fine time was being had by all. Dad, a retired engineer, particularly enjoyed the insight into the inner-workings of the Perth base but was also impressed by Peter Cosgrove. He remarked that the General would make a fine Governor General. All he needed to do was add a word. Funny guy, my dad. I diligently steered away from there though, but not without the passing aside that there's probably been the odd unrevealed sexual harassment case in the army too.
Never the less, what wasn't expected, but seemed wholy appropriate, was a first-hand demonstration of the paramedic's finely honed medical skills. You see, no sooner had they started to pass the Port (Right to Left) than one of the oldsters at dad's table had a heart attack. Stooged? Dad thought not. Mrs Oldster didn't seem too chuffed. The Para sprung into action, performing CPR and serving coffee all at once. He also called for emergency assistance. I nearly wrote back-up but it occurred that I've only ever seen cops do that. In movies too, so it must be true. The assistance promptly arrived in the form of one of Melbourne's finest Low Flying Urban Support Vehicles. To whit, the old timer, older than my dad that is, was ferried away to the Alfred Hospital where it's since been reported he's doing fine.
Pretty much as comprehensive a display of the Service's capabilities as could have been provided. Short of an Air Ambulance flying in the window, that is. They even got to keep the ornate souvenir menu.
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