The rest of the night

I never like reading really long entries, so I figured you didn't either.

Later that night we had a call for an unresponsive person. The patient was responsive when we got there. You could tell she was feeling better, especially when she threw a beer bottle at her boyfriend. She was even more awake when she started slapping the crap out of him. That’s when we left and waited for the police outside. We got three regular police cars and a car of plain clothes cops, that was pretty cool.

We were hit out for a hurt foot at a nearby recreation center. We found this big guy lying on the floor crying and yelling “Don’t touch it!” referring to his ankle. As my preceptor put it, the ankle was definitely, probably, for sure, maybe, really, perhaps, undoubtedly, perchance broken. But this guy was acting like his leg got cut off. He had new tattoos all over him and looked like he could take a lot. Now, my mother had a bilateral malleolus a few years ago, and she barely even winced. Shows how tough my mom is!

My last call of the night was for a “not breathing.” On the way there I caught my self staring at the intubation kit, visualizing getting my tube. I envisioned this perfect scenario, and then I realized that I needed to simmer down. I could barely think, I was so excited at the prospect of a tube. Unfortunately and fortunately the patient had been “not breathing” for about 4 hours.
Oh, well.

Lessons of the week: Narcan is fabulous, and ice cream cures all ills.
This weekend I have my last 2 ER shifts and my last city shift next Friday (sadness).

PS: I love my class, they're awesome!