A while ago, I wrote about Jimmy, a regular caller of whom I am rather fond. (A stark contrast to most of our regulars, who are complete pains in the posterior). Shortly after I made that post, Jimmy called us feeling suicidal and was taken in to the local hospital – something which has happened on countless occasions before. From that day on, we heard nothing. Jimmy went from calling us several times a night to never calling us at all. I remembered what Jimmy had told me – that he’d been told he wouldn’t live to see his 25th birthday, that he was now 26, and certainly wouldn’t live to see another birthday unless he stopped drinking… despite his best efforts, Jimmy had cut down but not stopped. I assumed the worst, and felt sad for Jimmy. This is one of the perils of being an ambulance dispatcher, when one of your regulars stops calling, you have no way of knowing what happened to them. I hoped he was still in hospital, or had moved out of London, or even had miraculous recovered from his addiction, his depression and the health problems caused by his self harm, and didn’t need us any more, but I knew that the most likely explanation was that Jimmy was dead.

This week we received a call in the dead of the night from a address about two miles from where we last saw Jimmy. It was from a 26 year old male, suicidal, threatening to slit his own throat. The landline he was calling from was registered to a “G Smirnoff”. Jimmy’s surname, different initial. Could this be Jimmy, staying with a relative? How many twenty-six year olds are there in North London with that surname and a penchant for slitting their own throats?

As soon as the call taker hung up, I knew I had to call back to see if it really was Jimmy.

The young man on the other end of the phone was in a terrible state. Hyperventilating, crying, talking gibberish.

“It’s the ambulance service,” I said. “Help is on the way – I just need to take your name. For our records.”

No answer. I wasn’t even sure he was listening to me. “Oh god, oh bloody hell,” he moaned. “It hurts…”

The ambulance and police crew were just pulling up. I tried once more.

“What’s your name?”

“Jimmy… Jimmy Smirnoff…”

And the line went dead.

And I almost got up and punched the air in jubilation that Jimmy wasn’t dead.

Jimmy was later blued in to the local hospital with a deep, self inflicted laceration to the neck. It wasn’t an arterial bleed and it wouldn’t be the first time he has done this, so I was not overly worried or surprised. I’m just glad he is alive, and I wish he could know that.

Published Jul 11, 2008 - 6 Comments and counting

6 Comments on “Jimmy”
  1. Paul Lazar Says:

    That’s such a lovely story, I’m glad Jimmy’s alive too :)

    I’ve been reading for years but today I think you touched a nerve, I can feel your relief/happiness as I’ve felt before,



  2. Tom Says:

    Thanks for that story (and the many others), I can’t imagine trying to do your job but but think it’s fantastic that there’s someone like you who does.

  3. Dave M Says:

    Well it nice to see, jimmy is alive, shame his problems are not getting better.

    Like the rename, very in keeping with his problems

  4. alex Says:

    See, I think I would take the opposite view. I think (although it’s possible I could be persuaded otherwise) that anything – even death – is better than being an alcoholic and regularly slitting your throat which, let’s face it, is going to lead to death one way or another. Having said that, it does depend a lot on what Jimmy’s other hobbies are.

    At the risk of generalising, I’d say that anyone who doesn’t complete a suicide attempt does, in part at least, want to carry on living. But if ‘life’ for Jimmy is just wanting to die and waiting for the next suicide attempt, it’s tragic. If Jimmy can feel good again, then that’s incredible, he’ll have a new lease of life, but… being saved, just so you can go through it again, and again, and again, ad nauseum, I don’t know…

    (I feel for the guy tho’, it sounds like he’s in a terrible position right now.)

  5. loulou Says:

    I hope there is someone else out there looking out for Jimmy too. Someone else glad that he is still alive, I doubt it very much. Maybe if he knew there was someone out there that cared, it would be enough to get him back on the straight and narrow.

    Your story really moved me, you don’t just do your job, you actually care!!

  6. James Says:

    Shame you can’t let him know. I would have thought there was some way. Maybe that would help him.

    Nee Naw
    Nee Naw was a blog about life in the London Ambulance Service control room. It was written by Suzi Brent from 2005 to 2010. The blog is no longer being updated, but the archives will remain here.
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