Drama -Life in the ER

I have mentioned before that a good part of my nursing career was spent working in the ER. While much of the excitement I witnessed there seems to run together in my memory there are a few stories that stand out in my mind. This is one of them.

It was a busy Saturday night in the emergency department. Business usually started slacking off around eleven o’clock but this night was an exception. We received a radio call from an ambulance en route to the hospital. The paramedic described the patient as a 31 year old female complaining of back pain after falling at work. I groaned, realizing that it was my turn to get the next patient. The prospective patient did not seem exciting to me at all but I knew I had to take the good with the bad and I went to prepare the room.

I was soon greeted by two paramedics pushing a rather large lady on a stretcher. The lady was wrapped in a blanket (although not very well) and I could see that she was completely naked. I said nothing but a raise of my eyebrow let the paramedic know that it was time to let me in on the whole story. It turned out that she was an exotic dancer who was “working” when she lost her balance and fell off the stage. Her complaint was back pain and she was being quite vocal about it with loud moans and groans.

I reached immediately for a large gown because she wasted no time losing the blanket that covered her bare body. I was determined to remain professional in the situation. I was not going to pass judgment or make light of her problem regardless of the circumstances that led to it. I began my assessment asking her a round of questions regarding a generalized back injury –rate your pain from 0-10, are there any aggravating or alleviating factors? She asked for some clarification regarding the questions so I asked, “Is there anything that makes your pain better or worse? Maybe a certain position like sitting, lying, standing or walking?

She thought for a minute and then replied, “The only position that really makes it better is doggy style.”

I almost lost it. “Keep it together!” I told myself. Be professional.

“You must mean that the fetal position makes it better, right? Like when you curl up in a ball?” I asked…hoping…pleading.

“Feline position?” she asked. “Huh. No I’ve never heard of that one. That right there’s a new one on me. How does it work?”

I then managed to create a fake emergency so I could leave her room and warn the doctor who was rapidly approaching and although it took some coaxing he maintained his professionalism as well. He saw the patient, examined her back and she was given a prescription for the narcotics that she undoubtedly came for.
With that she was on her way. As she left walking down the hall and out the door still wearing the hospital gown we provided her with, she inadvertently gave us a free show. Unfortunately she was unable to tie her gown properly in the back so the doctor and I stared silently as we watched her rather large backside fade into the distance. The silence was then broken when the doctor commented, “People are actually paying money to look at what we just regretfully saw for free.”

I have more stories such as this that I will share from time to time and you will notice a common theme throughout which is, the ER is nothing like you see on TV. It does stay very busy and there is plenty of excitement to go around but no one has ever screamed at the top of their lungs for me to do something “stat!” or thrown their arms up in the air and shouted “for the love of God!” Quite frankly that’s the way I like it, or the way I did like it before changing career paths. Nowadays my excitement comes from my son doing something for the first time, e.g. crawling, taking a step, shot gunning a beer, and so on.

The day will probably come when I miss it badly enough and return to the excitement and the adrenaline rush that the emergency room brings but I am forced to remind myself of the patients that I don’t quite miss dealing with. The scary psych patients handcuffed to the stretchers, the grabby drunk guys and the fat strippers. I think I can do without them for a little while longer.

Aloha!

My son turned one last week so naturally we gave him what any one year old would want- a luau. Everyone at the party had a good time…including my husband, pictured here with a Hawaiian amputee. Years from now my little boy will look back on his first birthday photos and see the family and friends who came together to celebrate his birthday…and his dad groping a piece of cardboard. This is definitely the message that we wanted to send him.

(My baby daddy)

Mama Tiger

We’ve had quite a bit of rain in Nashville lately. I know it’s necessary for survival but it really puts a damper on my world because most of my eleven month old son’s entertainment comes from outdoor activities. Well it rained again yesterday so I decided we would check out the Discovery Center in Murfreesboro. It’s an indoor facility where children can run around and play while stimulating their little minds at the same time. This would be a sure fix for Luke’s rainy day cabin fever.

When we arrived there around noon the place was packed. It turned out that I wasn’t the only desperate mom with a genius plan. As soon as we walked in the door we were greeted with temper tantrums and meltdowns from kids in every direction. One little boy in particular was running around, snatching things, pushing other kids out of his way and being an all around asshole. I would never use that word regarding a child unless it was really true…but he was an asshole. His parents were dragging along behind him and looked as if he had worked them over as well. They were evidently no match for him. I couldn’t believe all the other parents putting up with this little beast that was pushing their own kids around. I would never sit idly by and watch someone bully my little boy without saying a word, I thought.

We decided to forego all the madness and went to the other side of the room to check out the tractor station. Luke and I climbed inside and in no time he was pushing buttons and playing with the steering wheel. Just then who crashes our private tractor party but the little A-hole himself. He jumped inside the cab with us and pushed Luke aside pinning him between the wall and the steering wheel of the tractor all the while shouting, “Me first! Me first!” Luke then began to cry and Mama Tiger was officially pissed off.

His parents walked over and gently pleaded, “Stephen, buddy, it’s not your turn. Give him a chance,” but they were interrupted with “shut up!” I knew then that it was all up to me. It was “go time” and there was a good chance that I was going to be in the paper the next day. I needed to free Luke so I tried gently pushing little Stephen aside while reasoning with him. I explained to him that Luke was stuck and that he was scared because he is just a baby. Little Stephen didn’t budge and Luke was now screaming. I pleaded, “It’s not your turn! We were here first.” No acknowledgement.

I looked around for his parents and they were nowhere to be found. It then hit me that I couldn’t pick this four year old up and move him out of the way (or body slam him) AND I was obviously losing our verbal exchange. Or was I? Hit with my second stroke of genius for the day, I leaned over pretending to talk to Luke but instead looked straight at little Stephen. Then quietly yet firmly and with a smile on my face I said, “Your boots are ugly, Santa isn’t real and your mommy doesn’t love you.” And just like that he jumped down and ran away. What do you know? Kids can be reasoned with.

As soon as he was gone I picked up Luke who was getting ready to hyperventilate from crying so hard. He was fine and the whole ordeal probably lasted less than two minutes although it seemed like an eternity. I must say that despite sinking low and hitting little Stephen below the belt I had no guilt whatsoever. I felt like the king of the world. Little Stephen will probably require some therapy after what I said to him and at the very least have nightmares for a few months but don’t you worry about him. He learned a very valuable lesson yesterday. Don’t f@#% with my kid.

Mullet Watch 2009

For my latest installment of Mullet Watch I present Dog the Bounty Hunter. His beachy, wind-blown version of this scraggly do includes braids. Good try, Dog but we still know that you're completely bald in back. I give it three out of four brass knuckles.


What do you call someone with hair extensions who is completely bald on top? Why that would be Rock of Love's Brett Michaels of course.

You can call it a "mod-mullet" if you wish but it's a mullet none the less. Due to his clever way of disguising it, however, I give him four out of four herpetic lesions. Good job, Brett! You have just won a month supply of Valtrex.