Just Say No August 14, 2009

16 y/o girl comes into the ED a few days ago. This is our conversation:

(explanation: The drug PCP is also known as “wet” in the community I work in).

Girl: So…yeah…also? Ever since I did ‘wet’ a few months ago, I still feel things touching my skin. What should I do about it?

Me: Well, that’s kind of what happens when you do acid. Sometimes the side effects can stay with you forever. That’s why we shouldn’t do drugs.

Girl: Dude, I don’t do drugs! I just do…(lifts fingers to mouth in the universal “I’m smoking a joint” sign).

Me: Weed? Yeah. I hate to tell ya, that’s a drug too.

Girl: NUH UH! IT JUST… HAPPENED!

Me: I’m sorry…did you just say, “it just happened?”…as in, acid accidentally fell into your mouth?!?

El Accidente August 2, 2009

I was in a car accident the other night on my way home from my crazy job in the ghetto. I know you’re gasping and oohing and ahhing right now, but don’t feel bad yet.

This SUV in front of me at a red light started going, then stopped. I started going, then didn’t stop. The guy tried calling the police about 20 times and no one was coming. Did I mention it was the middle of the night IN THE GHETTO? A small crowd of men started forming. The left side of my neck started twinging.

While I was in my car on the phone with the boyfriend, a guy from the street tapped on my window. Visions of carjacking and stabbing danced through my head.

“Hey, do you have a camera? ‘Cause this guy is trying to say you messed all that up, and that was like that before!”

I noted briefly when I first got out of my car that the SUV’s back bumper was missing a good chunk and the back of his trunk above that bumper was dented inward. I knew immediately that my low-riding convertible didn’t jump 3 feet in the air and karate kick it, so I was pretty sure the guy wouldn’t think so either. Obviously, my car was suffering more damage anyway.

I was wrong.

Next thing I see is one of my favorite co-workers sauntering down the street. I lifted my arm up and waved frantically. “Angie!!!!!” She came right over and hugged me and asked me if I was okay. It was such a relief to have her there with me. Within a minute she was on the phone with the police who work for my hospital. I didn’t even know you could call them. The city police weren’t responding at all, so what else could we do?

Within 5 minutes the hospital police show up and who gets out of the car but the policeman who often patrols our ED and coincidentally asked me out on a date a few months ago. (I gently turned him down at that time, but we stayed cool.) Again I had a rush of happiness and relief. I quickly gave my statement and told my friendly cop that the guy was trying to say I caused all that prior damage. He winked at me and said not to worry.

Just then, my knight in shining white…umm…hat showed up with a bottle of water, advil and my newest insurance card. By that time the left side of my neck had spasmed and I was crying about it. OW.

So after I gave all my information and watched the cop harrass the guy about insurance fraud, we were free to go. The boyfriend followed me home and helped ice my neck until 4:30am.

Okay, you can “awwww” now. It’s really okay. A pain in the neck (literally and figuratively), but overall I understood how God was all over that incident. He showed up in the car not being totaled, my neck being only a spasm, my co-worker, the friendly cop, and boyfriend of the year.

EL FIN.

Irony in the City July 14, 2009

Everytime I drive to work I pass by a building that houses a learning center for children. This building is at a stoplight, on a busy inner-city street. The two, large, door-length glass panels on each side of the entrance are painted with various cartoon children.

In the painting there is a disabled white boy with leg braces painting a fence and a white girl hammering something, while an asian girl and a black girl jump rope in the foreground.

When I first saw the painting I laughed at the fact that the kid who can’t stand is doing the manual labor, then realized who else was helping him out. Then I laughed even harder.

Go, city I live in. Go.

Prison Talk July 4, 2009

I had a 9 year old male patient who came in to the ED with some rectal bleeding (don’t worry, in the end it was just from constipation, nothing sketchy).  I explained to the mother and patient that it would be necessary for me to do a rectal exam. I turned to the patient and asked him if he would like me to send the mother and his two younger siblings out of the room so he could have some privacy during the exam. He agreed. Once the mother and siblings left the room, the following conversation transpired:

Me: Okay, I need you to take off your shorts and your underwear then lie on the bed and hug your knees to your chest. Then I’m going to put my smallest finger in your bottom for about two seconds, okay?

Kid: Dude. I heard they do this in prison.

The first of many to come… June 30, 2009

Dear Parents of my Patients,

I have spent enough time listening to you tell me the many exciting symptoms your child is having. I am now trying to examine him/her. So when I put the stethoscope in my ears (you know; that expensive instrument I need to LISTEN OH SO CAREFULLY TO YOUR KID’S HEART AND LUNGS? THE ONE THEY INVENTED BECAUSE MY NORMAL HUMAN EARS CANNOT HEAR THOSE THINGS WITHOUT IT???) … kindly, shut up. All I can hear you say anyway is “Wah wah wah waaaaaaaah.” Unless of course that’s what you are intending to verbalize.

Sincerely,

     Me

Happy Songs June 22, 2009

I pulled back the curtain to find an adorable 4 year old boy bouncing up and down on the ER gurney. His mom brought him in for symptoms of fever and cough for a few days. Her real concern: The Swine Flu (bum bum BUUUMMMM!!!!). Needless to say, this kid looked better than fine. Here was the conversation that followed the history and exam. Keep in mind he is only 4 years old:

Me: Who are those guys on your shirt?

Kid: The Beatles

Me: Wow, really? That’s pretty cool. Can you sing me a Beatles song? I really like them.

Kid: Twinkle Twinkle LITTLE STAR!

Me: (laughing very hard) That’s a VERY good song to sing, but I don’t think that’s a Beatles song. Can you sing me one of those?

Kid: (concentrating very hard) Mom? What kind of songs do the Beatles sing?

Mom: Happy songs.

Kid: (looking at me) See? I did sing a Beatles song.

Somethin’s goin’ happen. June 18, 2009

A 17 year old male lay on the ER gurney with a large gash in his head for me to suture. His mother stood at the bedside appropriately concerned. As I started suturing his wound she asked him what happened. The boy stated that he and his friends had been hanging out at a local take-out joint when a group of other boys picked a fight with them. He said the next thing he knew he was hit over the head with something heavy. A friend helped him up, put him in the car and brought him to the ER. He didn’t know who else was hurt or where they were.

His mother didn’t make a sound while her son told his story. When he was done she said, “Now I’ve listened to what you had to say, and I want you to listen to what I’m going to say now.”

‘You know we don’t live in a good neighborhood. You know that. And you know that we do the best we can to get by. You know that you are working hard in school so that you can get out of the neighborhood and that’s something you can do. Them guys…Tyrone and Bebo…you know those guys stood on the corner all day and night when I was a kid. They ain’t never made nothin’ of themselves. You know you shouldn’t of been hangin’ in that store. Cause you know in this neighborhood…you wait around long enough…somethin’s goin’ happen. You stand on the corner long enough…you don’t walk from where you been to where you goin’…somethin’s goin’ happen. Now tonight? When we get home? I want you to do two things. I want you to make a list…a list of all the things you wanna do. Basketball, college, summer plans. Whatever you want. I want you to make that list. And the other thing I want you to do is pray. I want you to pray every day, okay? …Alright.’

I felt like I held my breath the whole time she was talking. How she handled her son with patience and love was such a blessing for me to see. It also made me so much more aware that every night after work I drive out of that neighborhood to my home in the suburbs. I’ll never even be close to understanding what that life is like.

“I’m going back to the start.” May 31, 2009

I guess there is no profound way to begin. I’ve been thinking about beginnings a lot lately. Well, more accurately, hitting the “reset” button. And no matter how many things I thought about to proclaim here, none of them give me that transcendental “perfect start” vibe. So…after not coming up with a ‘knock your socks off’ first post, I’ll just tell you what you can expect. I may make you laugh and I certainly will gross you out from time to time, but mostly this will be the place for randomness. If you end up taking away a little something to think about…I can’t be held responsible. Welcome to my crazy life.