Unusually, we had training earlier in the day before the concert in the evening – a nice touch, I thought – meant that we could practice on site. also, because it's hard to get mojo barriers (the crowd barriers that you find at concerts), and our mockup has been broken multiple times by larger members of the team. As I've found, I've found it hard to mock-up, or break down, the physical skills and movements for the thing that worried me most – crossing crowd barriers. so I've been winging it, basically.

As luck would have it, I was placed in a team with the tallest people around, both during the training and the actual event…

The height difference is usually nothing more than a funny quirk, a visual joke. Sometimes even a benefit. Tall members mean they can reach and see things I can't, or catch me where I'm weak. And it was good for those pesky barrier crossings because they could spot me.

Halfway through the main act though, I realised the two tall lads were talking to each other, then to me as an afterthought. It's easier for these tall guys to take up space, to be noticed, to be recognised as The Medic. More of an art to deflect attention.

MRT days make me mindful to be assertive. I am naturally quite soft-spoken and averse to conflict. But the more “go with the flow” I am in MRT, the easier it is to ignore me. Not that I must be heard at all costs. But this extends to being kept in the loop. As much as I can interpret my team's actions because we have a shared mental model, I appreciate sharing that communication…

*He's a student HCPs, and I find they fall easily into a clinical lead role. Those who started volunteering as first aider without necessarily a clinical background tend more to find the operator role more natural, I think.

When you're physically small, it takes effort to occupy space and be heard and lead. Especially when it goes against your own nature. It's not just an amusing look…

#crowdmedicine #MRT #volunteering #personal #reflections