Tuesday, March 26, 2002

I am on Trauma Call and I am irritable. When the pager goes off, it feels like a 500 Joule hit off the defibrillator and I snarl at the paging operator. They connect me to an incredibly stupid emergency room doctor who wants to transfer a most unfortunate but still incredibly stupid patient to me. It is clear that the doctor has tried to get local M.D.'s to take care of his patient, but because the patient is "unfunded" he couldn't generate much interest. Because Boss Hog Memorial Hospital (here in the Deep South) is a Level III Trauma Center, I have to accept this "dump".

Trauma patients are always looking to sue someone. Usually they sue the drunk driver who hit them, but sometimes the lawyers try to drag in doctors and hospitals just for good measure. This sounds like a good idea to the type of person who finds himself a victim of trauma. Nice people like you, who read blogs, do not often become victims of trauma. Correction, you do not become a "survivor" of trauma, as something about nice people renders them incredibly vulnerable to all manner of physical damage, such that they are either found dead in the field or last long enough to be declared dead on arrival. This is constantly on my mind as I ride my motorcycle on these Deep South interstates.

So on this date, as I initiate my own blog to clear my heart and head of hateful thoughts that would be inappropriate content for personal e-mails, I am waiting to take an octogenarian and a nonagenarian to the operating room for facial fractures. The 87-year old fell and bumped her eye in her Assisted Living Care Facility, and the 91 year-old was assaulted and battered by some form of human degenerate offal. At times like these I hear all kinds of stories from the emergency room, and lately they've been having a "run" of people stuffing strange things into their rectums. It's a known fact that diseases & injuries occur in "runs" but no one quite knows why. Or for that matter, what would motivate two unacquainted strangers in two different locations to decide within days of each other to shove a can of Barbasol shave cream and a vibrator stuck in the "on" position, respectively, into their respective sigmoid colons? Likewise, why two extremely elderly people would elect to get their faces bashed in within 24 hours of each other?

Although I came to the Deep South from the Midwest by way of the Northeast, I'm not saying the people here are more inclined to shove weird stuff up their ass. I have plenty of observations about life down here which I suppose I'll post as the need arises. Right now I'm happy as a clam with the 8 months of excellent motorcycle weather and the cheap real estate. Ample parking day or night, people shouting "howdy neighbor". Also, if you are a medical student or pre-med with idealistic illusions about what kind of people go in to medicine, I apologize, but soon you will become a jaded & cynical bastard like me, I guarantee it. The ones who maintain their idealism longer than about 5 years are not taking care of any sick people, and most people who go to the doctor are not sick. I'll share more wisdom with you later, kids.