Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Oct. 14, 2008

Today is the birthday of one of my first big childhood crushes--Ben Lee. He was tall, older, dark, handsome. And ever since I was 9 years old, I've remembered his birthday. I wonder what he's up to today. I hope he's happy:)

And hopefully not visiting an ER. Like one of several interesting patients that came through triage today, where I was assigned. One was a 50 year old male with a dildo stuck up his rectum. Obviously, he was unable to retrieve this accessory on his own, and after 10 hours of trying and straining away (talk about an urge to go), he showed up, shamefacedly, at my ER. Embarrassing....but not an automatic surgical case like the guy from a while ago who came in with that long, flat-ended vacuum cleaner attachment stuck up his rectum into his intestines which were necrotic by the time he checked into the ER, with poop coming out of the vacuum end.

Another patient after being discharged immediately checked in again. Hoping for a better outcome, I guess. Or, more likely, a doctor who would give her Dilaudid. She's morbidly obese, stinky, "dead behind the eyes," and shows up at the ER in spurts of several times a week, then a month will go by, and then she'll be there all week again. Today, she had her usual complaint of flank pain caused by her nonexistent kidney stones. 16 CT scans prove it. Multiple US confirm no problems. Bloodwork and urinalysis are WNL every time. I've watched her fake passing out twice. Apparently, while I was at lunch, she did it again in the waiting room, and my fellow nurse told her to get off the floor. Which she did. Maybe got MRSA in her mouth in the process. We can always hope. So after she checked in for the second time today, I eventually took her back to a hallway, where she proceeded to tell me that her IV was not taken out from her previous discharge. Nice. So the doctor comes to see her and blatantly tells her he will not be giving her any pain meds. She cries, she yells, and finally decides "I'm getting the hell out of here." She rips out her IV, starts bleeding onto her shirt, and when I try to put gauze on it, she grabs the gauze and blows her nose in it and refuses to let me dress the site.

And of course there were bright spots--the Irish priest with a lovely lilting voice, with gallstones.

The depressed, suicidal young man finally coming in to get some help.

The ridiculous girl complaining of rib pain, nausea, vomiting. She ate a doughnut while I was triaging her.
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