Well, Paul, at least it wasn't a fullmoon too, we'll accept for a few pts' butts hanging out. I worked female admissions at a state psych hospital. Too many interesting incidents to tell.
Got floated down to the ER today. Single worst day of the year to work in the ER in Boston. The Caribbean Festival. Picture St Patrick's Day on methamphetamine. Most were wearing feathered headdresses and not much else. My first patient this morning was passed out on the sidewalk wearing boxer shorts and covered in shoe polish. It was 7:45 am. Not a word of a lie. He rallied and was discharged before noon but was back before I left at 7pm, this time with a nice coating of red powder on top of his shoe polish. With his girlfriend. Excuse me. His fiancé. She ended up tied down to the stretcher after she kicked her nurse in the stomach. Because, you know, that nurse was bored sitting there drinking coffee and she walked out onto the street and dragged that poor girl, still wearing her headdress like she's a tropical f'ing Geronimo, into the ER and put oxygen on her so she might not die.
Two more semesters.
Clearly you don't know what it's like to work psych. .
(Rolling my eyes)
I was a bit pissed off having been kicked in my ample bread basket while trying to help some nitwit broad who drank herself to the point of passing out.... Stupidity had a price.
(Rolling my eyes)
You're right, Sonny. I've spent near the past twenty years working the overnight shift in an ER n the ghetto in Boston. You were in grammar school when I triaged my first DOA teenaged addict. We average two GSW's and thirty OD's a week. On any given moment 25% of our ER population is being held on a Section 12 awaiting an involuntary committal bed.
Oh, and that nurse who was kicked in the stomach by the druncken fuc#tard? That was me. I was a bit pissed off having been kicked in my ample bread basket while trying to help some nitwit broad who drank herself to the point of passing out. Thirty years ago, when I was as wet behind the ears as you are we put on our big boy pull-ups and dealt with our stupid life choices and punted our way through our hangovers . Stupidity had a price.
But you keep working at your psych ward in the Hamptons and convince yourself that you're changing the world. Good for you.
Shouldn't you be out in the milieu holding hands and singing Kumbuyah?
Sonny? You talkin to me? You're preaching to the choir, Paul. That bieeach that kicked you probably doesn't even remember. The Hamptons? Pfffft, try Pilgram right on par with Wrentham but with MH population and most of the staff are better as most of the criminal dirtbags that get employed get weeded out in the first couple years. Sadly, it takes that long to get rid of some of them.
Maybe I should have taken one of the women to an ER to get the Wine cooler she smuggled onto the ward removed from her vagina. Funny thing is, one of the gay guys working notice a glimmer of light were there shouldn't be one. Go figure.
You two should talk to Dos Equis to figure which is the most interesting man in the world. If my life were that exciting....
I'm so glad I moved to New Hampshire to get away from all the storms. No snow storms, no hurricanes. What a wonderful place to live.
Don't know yet. Speaking of pretending to come, has anyone heard from Yeager?
Don't know yet. Speaking of pretending to come, has anyone heard from Yeager?
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