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The Skylarks had been called to a road traffic accident. Maya was on shift with the red team. She grabbed her helmet and went out to the helipad to get the helicopter ready. It was all systems go and she usually had the crew up in the air within four or five minutes of the job coming in via the phones at the airbase.
Today was no different and as soon as the other crew members joined her with the extra gear they needed, they were off. As the pilot for The Skylarks, or by their official name, the Whistlestop River Air Ambulance, Maya’s focus was on the flying, the transfer of a patient, the aircraft, keeping everyone safe. Her head couldn’t be anywhere else, not on her personal problems, that was for sure.
The Whistlestop River Air Ambulance was afforded priority over other aircraft in the area by air traffic control, so the airspace was theirs on the route Maya would take to reach the patient. As she flew them to their destination, they discussed the job – the extent of the patient’s injuries, possible treatments that might be necessary, landing sights to get Bess and Carl, the two critical care paramedics on board, as close to the patient as possible.
It was teamwork all the way. They approached the location indicated by not only the coordinates they had from dispatch but beaconed by the flashing lights of a road ambulance and police cars at the scene, first responder teams they were used to working with.
‘Landing sites are few and far between, Maya.’ Bess was in the seat in the cockpit next to Maya and along with Carl in the rear of the aircraft, both of them were scouting for somewhere to land safely using their iPads and by looking out the windows.
Maya deemed the field on their immediate right too small, the one next to that too hazardous because of the power lines.
‘There’s a field approximately forty-five degrees left from the farthest flashing blue lights,’ Carl suggested.
‘I don’t see access in or out of it,’ said Bess. ‘Your best bet is the dual carriageway itself, Maya.’
They’d already been updated via radio that the police had cordoned off a big section of the road and Maya knew with no other option it was the safest and the most advantageous for her crew and for the patient to get the care they needed. The road ambulance paramedics would do as much as they could on scene but the critical care paramedics with the air ambulance could often do more. Then the decision would have to be made as to how best to get the patient to the further help they needed.
Adrenaline kicked in as she hovered above the strip she’d earmarked to land, Bess and Carl both checking the surrounding area to ensure safety for everyone involved.
It wasn’t long before they touched down. Bess and Carl grabbed the gear and raced to attend to the patient. Maya stayed with the helicopter, ready to help them load the patient on if that was required. They had enough fuel, something she like other pilots was obsessed about, and she’d be ready to leave the moment her crew were back with her.
Maya loved her job. She’d dreamed of doing this since she was a kid. Being paid to soar high above the jaw-dropping landscapes of Dorset was a thrill in itself, never mind the privileged position of being a pilot with The Skylarks, whose name was displayed on the logo of their uniform along with the silhouetted wingspan of the bird in flight. Her job enabled her to be part of the team who could make a difference to people far and wide, and their loved ones; to give people the best chance of survival and recovery when they needed it the most. And in the world of employment, Maya knew it really didn’t get much better than that.
As far as work went, Maya was sorted. It was her personal life that was causing her no end of issues: a father she felt had been against her almost from the start, an ex-husband who seemed to forget they were divorced, and a son with little to no bond with his dad, who would never be in line to win a father of the year award.
Her problems crept into her psyche briefly as she waited for her crew but she pushed them aside as soon as she heard over the radio that Bess and Carl’s patient required airlifting. She spotted them hurrying towards her, aided by a police officer, carrying the scoop, a type of stretcher that separated into two, which enabled the crew to safely immobilise the patient and get them back to the aircraft.
Bess closed the rear door to the helicopter once the patient was secure and then climbed into the seat next to Maya, put on her helmet, and fastened her seatbelt. Up into the air they went with a forty-nine-year-old female driver of a vehicle who had lost control and crashed into the central reservation barrier on the dual carriageway. Given the location, the road ambulance would take almost four times as long as it would for Maya and the crew to fly the patient to the hospital and with head injuries that had the potential to be worse than first suspected, the crews on theground had all agreed to err on the side of caution and transport via aircraft.
Landing on the hospital helipad was a breeze compared to the challenge of landing at the scene and once they safely touched down, the patient was handed over to the doctors and nurses.
Back on board the helicopter, Bess radioed the HEMS (Helicopter Emergency Medical Services team) desk to say the crew was clear and available. The crew secured the doors, put seatbelts on and Maya went through the familiar pre-flight checks.
‘Clear left,’ Bess, in the front left seat of the aircraft, confirmed through her headset, a vital piece of equipment for the team in order to communicate when they were up in the air given the noise of a helicopter. The headsets and microphones also provided radio contact with the HEMS desk, who had called through the initial job and continued to liaise with them en route.
‘Clear right,’ Maya confirmed into her own headset. ‘And clear for take-off.’
She lifted the helicopter into the air and they were soon cruising at 1,000ft above ground level on their way back to the Whistlestop River airbase, in the town of the same name. She steered the aircraft comfortably out of the way of hazards like trees, power lines and buildings – not that Dorset was well known for skyscrapers, only a handful of taller-than-usual structures.
Maya heard a whoop of joy over her headset from Carl in the back of the helicopter, followed by, ‘Maya Anderson, that landing for the job was spectacular. You are one hell of a pilot!’
All of them were in good spirits knowing their patient was in good hands and the outcome likely to be a positive one. It wasn’t always the case; sometimes they returned to base with heavyhearts and sadness that their best simply hadn’t been good enough. And that feeling could swallow you whole if you let it.
‘I hope that cheer has nothing to do with the fact that this is your last shift with us, Carl,’ Maya laughed.
Bess groaned. ‘Still can’t believe he’s deserting us.’ In the absence of a co-pilot, Bess was also the technical crew member and her primary role was to assist Maya with aviation safety and navigations. All three of them were well versed at working together to ensure their own safety and that of anyone on the ground.
‘Rest assured my cheer is only because of your skills as a pilot,’ Carl assured Maya. ‘Thanks to you, I’ve loved this job and I’m still in one piece.’
‘I appreciate the vote of confidence,’ she called out.
Bess finished off the snack bar she was eating. The crew often had to rush from one job to the next and eating when you could was often the way it went. ‘Only an hour left on shift before you’ve got a few days off, Maya. Bet you’re excited.’
Maya said nothing, which of course prompted Bess – who was a friend as well as a colleague – to ask whether everything was all right.
Maya knew she might as well admit the truth: that today, she’d started her shift with a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t because her sister Julie was getting married later today; she was excited for that. It was everything else. And some days, her messy life bothered her more than it did on others.
