In the Springtime when the weather turns nice, the loonies like to leave their nests. You don't even need a field guide to spot them. You can find them first by listening to their call: "I'm gonna fuck you up, Motherfucker!"
Tonight right before the end of my shift, a young man came into our E.R. holding his bloody head. He said, "I think I've been shot in the head."
He was fairly calm and alert, and so the E.R. staff rolled their eyes a little, but they sprung into action. The kid had a CT scan and indeed, he had bullet fragments and chunks of skull lodged in the back of his head. We don't do much neurological stuff at our little hospital, so the ER doc called for a LifeFlight helicopter to take the kid to St. Louis.
So far, so good, right?
Except by that point his 50 closest friends and worst enemies had arrived and were rioting in the waiting room. Security was there trying to break it up, then the cops arrived, and then the hospital was put on lockdown. No entering or leaving until the facility was deemed secure. Okay, that would have been peachy, except the air ambulance guys were among the people who couldn't get into the building. And I was one of the ones who couldn't get out.
My shift ends at 10:30. At about 10;20, we were informed that the hospital was on lockdown and we'd have to stay until the situation was resolved. I think that was the first of about 15 times that I said I just want to go home.
Okay, let's remember. I'm a lab rat. I wear a white coat, I look into a microscope for hours, I get excited about parasitic infections...I'm not a risk-taker. But at 10:30 I clocked out, picked up my keys, and headed for the exit. I figured if I met with any difficult people, I would tell them what I'd tell my own kids: Knock this shit off and go home. Now.
I figured that, plus the Mean Mommy Face, would scare the bejesus out of any thug with half a brain.
So I stopped to pee. Just in case the Mean Mommy Face didn't pan out, I thought I'd lose that authoritative menacing quality if I peed down my leg under pressure...
I went out the main entrance, and there were a half dozen minivans parked out front with alternating groups of people occasionally getting out of the vans, yelling "Motherfucker!", throwing something, and then getting back into the van, probably to watch a DVD on the little DVD player hanging from the ceiling.
Okay, as an aside...when did scary thug people start driving minivans? Was that so they could cram more scary thug people in? Like a clown car? Do thug people carpool to their fights? Do they get to use the HOV lanes for that?
The thug people, however, were not the slightest bit interested in a dweebie lab tech walking out to her truck. I'm sure it was my authoritative menacing quality, like Superman's cape, that gave me an aura of invincibility. Smart thug guys can spot that from a mile away.
So, at 10:30, with all my big strapping young hospital coworkers cowering inside hiding from the scary thug guys, I walked out the door with my cup of ice water in one hand and my book in the other, and glided right through that crowd of angry young men like I was flying Wonder Woman's invisible plane. But without the heels or the golden lasso.
Take that, Motherfucker!
Hey...is that The Sound of Music playing on your DVD player? Can I watch?
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5 comments:
[mouth hanging open]
When I get to be famous and constantly hounded by fans and the media, I want you for my bodyguard.
She was a bouncer, once, in high school, at a rock concert. I was too - we were the 5'3" bouncers, and boy! were we bad! Robin
LOVE IT! There's something very powerful about the mom-tude. I bet their mothers are the only people those little thugs have any kind of respect for.
When they start driving Smart Cars and showing up at the ER, call me. I want to come and see.
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