Tonight on Bizarre Stories911!!!: This evening we once again found ourselves a captive audience held hostage by the theatrical manifestation we here in the pre-hospital care community commonly refer to as The suicidal ideation, serial offender. Alas, to be aroused from fitful slumber by the radio heralding a familiar address which commonly and all too frequently bears theatrical fruits of the most dramatic flair, we dutifully engaged ourselves onward as directed not unlike prisoners goaded helplessly toward this matinee of despondence. On arrival we found our weary thespian performing this well rehearsed soliloquy of sorrow for the benefit of the constabulatory who had been caused by local custom to preceed us for safeties sake. There on the front porch, in full view of her disgusted neighbors we found our patient enthusiastically honing her every gesture and word that her performance might be received in a manner befitting her desultory demeanor. Tonights presentation was titled Soma, sinking in a sea of self induced silliness. Act one of this drama actually was played out yesterday morning in the wee hours where the spouse, who is also considered by most local medical critics to be a classically trained and moderately accomplished frequent flyer, yet continually he struggles to provide world class status dramaticus. His efforts were sufficient to achieve a 72 hour sabbatical at a R&R facility of local repute. Thus having this evenings stage to herself and having to go it alone without her usual cast of supporting actors, she pulled out all of the stops in a gallant effort to sway the compassions of this critic. She confidently walked in duely stumbling fashion towards the lights of the awaiting ambulance. Having arrived, she took her familiar place at center stage upon our cot, where she suddenly became devoid of the ability to relate the particulars leading up to our rendezvous this evening. She did however seek to spice up this evenings theatrics by performing lewd oral displays with the pulse oxymetry probe whenever she felt like my attentions were not fixated on her efforts. As this continued she also incorporated her well rehearsed snake shedding its skin maneuver where she gyrates in a fashion emulating demonic possession, a seizure, or something enthusiastically orchestrated in a manner which displaces her clothes. I challenged my partner to establish IV access which brought forth the evenings operatic vocalizations which reminded me of the sound a walrus would make giving birth to a 1962 Cadillac, you know, the one with the big tailfins? On the ride to the hospital, I did my best to forewarn the ED nurses regarding the forthcoming tsunami of drama. For the rest of the trip, I spent my time struggling to keep her hemmed up on the cot, with her clothes on, and my biomedical apparatus out of her mouth, as I pondered exactly what kind of person would possess such a profound affinity for compunction that they would consciously set in motion a chain of events whose logical conclusion would result in an esophageal lavage using a garden hose and a fire pump, a Foley catheter as a uninvited guest in her urethra, and a forced feast funneling a quart of activated charcoal. Did I mention that when I said she had pulled out all stops, that she also assaulted us with some of the most cavalier and vile flatulation I have ever experienced? Yes, that really happended. To my dear friends at the hospital I will forever cherish the compassion you showed by allowing me to escape before re-frocking her in that gown!!!
Posted on: Tue, 30 Sep 2014 08:15:23 +0000
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