Resource...Resource...Resource

It never ceases to amaze me that some of the stupidest people on earth are some of the most resourceful.  A drug addict may be so high that he can't speak, but he can sniff a cop a mile away and figure out how to get away from him.  A thirteen year old pregnant girl can't spell her address, but she can forge her mom's signature perfectly to have that baby without getting caught.

This particular night was...amusing.

It was Christmas, and the wind howled through the ER doors every time they opened.  Those of us who were approaching middle age and having hot flashes were thankful for the gust of wind and tiny snowflakes bursting through the door with EMS and a stretcher.  Hell, we'd flip a coin to get patients on slow snowy nights like this just to stand by the door and cool off!

The squak box hurled a 30 something male with multiple generalized complaints and more stable vital signs than most of us working that night into room 3.  The primary complaint was his tongue.  As he so eloquently stated, "My tongue hurts when I smoke."

Ok.  Most people would say, "Don't smoke."  But nope.  Not Dr. J.  he was the most unconcsiously thorough doctor I'd ever had the displeasure of working with.  Not only did everyone who was blessed with his presence get a Cat Scan, but a full work up was in order, just in case there was drama to be found.  On this night, there was drama.

The man with a sore tongue had three daughters at home, all under the age of seven.  Baby mama was somewhere in the house, and according to EMS, she was a little "anxious" when they took her husband to the emergency room.  Yet she had no information about his complaint except that it had been going on for three days now and she was sick of listening to him bitch.  What a concept.

Now, understand that most patients under the age of forty and in absence of a car accident or unfortunate injury, just need a therapist.  So they come looking to our department to find one at two o'clock in the morning.  This guy not only needed a therapist, but I would assume some heavy duty brainwashing medication as well.  However, he did have a goal.

While he was waiting the typical five hours to get tested for anything and everything Dr. J could possibly find wrong with him, the patient decided to rifle through the drawers in his room.  It was interesting that each time the nurse checked on him he had his hands full of stuff.  Most nurses don't care enough to look and see what's in a patients hand.  As long as it isn't sharp or bloody it's really of no huge interest.

But this guy was good.  Upon discharge, he requested a cab pass to catch a ride home.  Yeah, some emergency departments actually pay to get their fellow patients back home when there's no true emergency.  It's part of our guilt for saving their life.  As he was walking out, something fell out of his pocket.  A trail of little packets of KY jelly followed him from the front door to the cab.  

When the nurses returned to clean the room, and check the drawers, and all of the things they are supposed to do (although that rarely happens until the next shift), they realized that all the drawers were empty - free of all KY, tongue blades, oversized Q-tips, and oxygen tubing.

Ok, so he went shopping right?  Come to find out, that was absolutely the truth.  

Baby mama came in (via ambulance, of course) three hours later with oxygen tubing tied around her wrists, oversized Q-tips stuck (and I mean STUCK) up her hoo-ha, and one lonely tongue blade carved to a point and stuck through the lips of her ying-yang.  Apparently there wasn't enough KY to finish whatever they had started.

So the story was that they didn't have enough money left over (from buying the kids presents) to get each other anything.  They decided to have an "adult" night, and found that the excitement just wasn't there.  Baby mama stated, "My boyfriend said he knew of a place he could get some sex toys..."

Who can make this shit up?!?!?