Monday, June 27, 2005

Friday night in the ER

Flashes of lightning and peals of thunder punctuated the night, as ambulances were popping in several times an hour. Not that unusual for a Friday night in the ER. A little quiet on the knife and gun club front, perhaps because of the raging storm, but this just contributed to the multiple car wrecks.

No one thought it unusual as the triage nurse wheeled in an unkempt young man clutching his abdomen and moaning in pain. Probably another kidney stone, perhaps something as benign as gastroenteritis. As she pushed him into room 8 on the emergent side of the ER, we barely looked up. The nurse for that room went in and prepared to start an IV as the patient rep escorted his companion, another 20-something year old man, some scruffy in appearance, into the room. The long hair, multiple tatoos and the piercings attracted several glances and a few comments.

I looked up as the nurse, Jennifer, came up to me. She was ashen and seemed shaken. Very unusual for this veteran of the ER. She said, "Doc, I need you in room 8 right now." Perhaps my casual assessment of the patient as he rolled through was mistaken.

As I entered the room, I noticed that Ashley, the triage nurse, was still in the room. She also seemed flustered and troubled. What was going on?

I looked at the patient in the bed. More questions. He no longer looked to be in any distress and no one had started an IV or put him on the monitor, as I would have expected. The chain hanging between his eyebrow and upper lip jangled as he giggled.

Ashley started and glanced behind me as an agitated voice instructed, "Turn around, Doctor." I hadn't noticed the companion behind the screen as I had moved past him on my way into the room. Of course, this time I didn't miss the muzzle of the Glock he was pointing at me. What is it about these gang-bangers and their Glock's? I thought longingly of my own Glock, currently in its holster in my truck.

"Uh, what do you guys want?" I managed to squeeze out.

"Don't be an idiot, Dr. DipShit. We wants yoh drugs. And while you be's at it, everybody's wallets and purses, too."

"No problem. Anything you want. Just don't hurt anybody."

"We be keepin' blondie over here foh insurance. You and..."

"My name is Jennifer."

"Yeah, you and da bee-otch go on out and be gettin' the goods. Done be callin' five-o, asshole."

"Why don't you let Ashley and Jennifer go and I'll stay in here with you two. It will be easier for the nurses to gather the drugs you want, anyway. I won't be able to help with that."

"Why we want your ugly puss in here wid us? We goin' to enjoy bein' in here with Nurse Blondie," he replied, leering at her.

"As I said, we'll get you anything you want, just leave her alone and don't hurt anyone."

"YOU AIN'T DA MAN HERE, ASSHOLE!" he screamed. I began to wonder just how much these two had been partying before they showed up here. The muzzle of the gun tracked around the room wildly, revealing just how unstable this hype was. There was no telling how much damage he could do if confronted. Those baggy pants could be holding multiple reloads.

As we hurried to the Pixis to get what we could to mollify them, Jennifer commented, "This would be a great time for a deputy to wander in with a BA check, wouldn't it?" I was worried about just that possibility, actually. The sight of a uniform, badge and gun could set this guy off, starting a shooting spree that could hurt a lot of people. I just wanted these guys out of here.

I instructed Jennifer to stay out of the room and returned by myself. No need to give them another target. Unfortunately, Mr. Hype wasn't happy with the few Lortabs I was able to get out for him. "Hey, asshole, who you savin' da good stuff for, anyway. Man, we don't gets the luv. I aint' be freakin' 'cause of no needles. I knows you gots Morphine and Demerol in there. Load me up, man! And where dat hooka dat was with you?"

Perhaps this was an opportunity. "Look, I'll give you anything you want. Jennifer is gathering the purses and wallets you wanted. I'm happy to give you 'the good stuff' but I didn't think you wanted shots. No problem, though. I've got a great idea for this party."

"What dat, man? Don't be playin' me, jackoff."

Can they really be this stupid? "Just let Ashley start a couple of IV's. That way, we can load you guys up for the best blazin' you ever had."

Wow, these two had to stand real close to form a synapse! I mean, they only had two neurons held together by a spirochete and someone treated them with penicillin!

They looked at each other and the one on the bed replied, "Dat's fresh, boofa. Hook us up!"

Looking at me like I was crazy, Ashley got out two start kits and told Brainiac to sit in the chair. Holding his gun on me, he held out his left arm to Ashley, "Get it on, Chicken Head. And you, Cheezie, don't be clownin'. Keep it down low."

"Hey, nothing but the best for my two new homies," I couldn't resist chiming in. I could smell the ozone from the electricity snapping in the room. I was scared s**tless, but hopeful that this would work. Just let us get the IV's in, you idiot.

"Let me go get the good squirt and you be floatin'," I offered, really getting into this. Who said I wasn't bilingual?

I returned with two syringes, as Ashley had the IV's in. "What dat, cracker?" asked Brainiac, so excited his tongue stud was clacking against his gold incisor cap.

"This the best, man. This here's called Mid-az-o-lam," I answered, stretching the word. "It will blow you away. You ain't never had anything like this before. Strictly medical grade. I can't give you too much, as you be slammin'."

They are actually going to let me do this! I gave each of them 10mg of Versed, slow IV push. Within seconds, I caught the Glock 22 as Brainiac slipped of to Neverland.

A couple of turns of nylon tape and the two were secured. "Can you get me the sheriff?" I asked the secretary, as if I needed a consult. "I need to facilitate a transfer."

Thank God dopers are stupid. "Thanks for playin', fool."