Prologue: Way back when in '05 when I was running the hoops for my gastric bypass, part of the pre-op approval process (it still is) a psychological screening. I did mine, and the pshrink said I was utterly normal. “Well there is one small thing [biiiiiig pregnant pause on her part]… you have contempt for authority figures, don’t you?”
I looked shocked, then started to smile. She wasn’t telling me anything new, but I was surprised that the tests and interview picked up on it.
“Actually it’s quite common in technical people. And with you, it appears you hold them in contempt until you can agree with whatever they represent.”
Did she ever have me nailed. If in my mind I understand what the authority represents, I have no problem with them. However, if I did not agree with them, I made myself a big pain in their ass. Contempt for cops, unless they were trying to catch the burglar that cleaned out my house; telling the Infectious Disease department head at the children’s hospital that he was an asshole and he was NOT to touch my kid ever again, etc. You get the idea.
That’s the warmup, here’s the story.
I got to the hospital where they took VWife yesterday and had to cool my heels for a while because she was getting a CAT scan. When I finally went back to see her, the department was as much of a madhouse as anything you see on an episode of ER. VWife, despite being a trauma patient in bad enough condition that the paramedics tried to fly her (she refused), was in the hall with at least a half dozen other people because the treatment rooms were full.
We talked with the chaplain for quite a while, and the trauma surgeon briefly. Broken ribs, smacked knee, and some fluid around her pancreas were the big concerns. With her other problems, including blood clots, they were going to keep her at least overnight for observation, and maybe longer if surgery is indicated or embolism develop. Fine, I’m cool with that.
Shortly after the doctor left, VWife is chatting up the chaplain, and they’ve become friends. The chaplain’s sister, we find out, also has lupus, and VWife was talking about her experiences when this woman walks by, oblivious to everything, and trailed by 2 cops. She’s obviously on something and out near Pluto. She’s herded away from the wife and the other rooms with injured people, and the cops trailing her are telling her to get back in her room or she’ll be charged with trespass. :dubious:
I looked at the nurse and chaplain and ask: “Frequent flyer?” (hip insider slang for a perennial problem patient)
“Yep.”
So we start talking to the chaplain again. A couple of minutes later, the space cadet is coming back toward us again, followed by the cop, 3 hospital plainclothes security guards, and an orderly. The orderly is trying very hard to stop her and to steer her back to her room. She yells “Get the f*ck away from me!” at the orderly, takes a swing and a miss, but then managed to grab his scrub shirt and tear it. Uh oh, the fecal material is hitting the rotating air handling device.
The orderly grabbed her in a bear hug and does a beautiful leg sweep, and the space cadet goes down hard to the floor.
Last week in my EMT class, we covered altered mental states and patient restraint. One of the first things mentioned was that when there is an unruly patient, it is imperative that you make a show of force, so I ran down the hall to assist. I’m one of those types that can ooze ‘teddy bear’ when I want to, and also let my inner thug show when necessary.
I get there, and there’s the cop, the security guards, and a couple of Norfolk Fire and Rescue guys, and the wacko’s husband. The cop looks at me funny like I shouldn’t be there, and I identified myself as a fireman and student EMT, plus a Black Belt. Oh he said, and let it be.
The orderly lets her get up, and her husband has her pinned to the wall, while the nurses try to talk her down. It doesn’t help. Just as some other nurses show up with the bed, the wacko breaks free and comes my way. We rushed her, and I grabbed her right ankle and held on for dear life. We got her manhandled onto the bed, and the nurses got some bare butt and injected her with something that hit her in about a minute. That was about 90 seconds too long for me. Even after the stuff hit her, she still managed to fight. It took forever to get the restraints on.
When I thought it was over, I turned my back to walk away, and she kicked free of one of the leg restraints. I ran back, grabbed on again, and held on while she was retied. As this was going on, I heard “Mr. Vunder! Mr. Vunder! You don’t need to be there!” It was one of the nurses from the station near where VWife was parked.
She starts to give me a raft of shit about liability and how the public shouldn’t get involved. That’s what the security people and firemen were there for.
“I’m a fireman and student EMT.”
That deflated her a little bit, but then she countered with “If JCAHO (phonetically jay-co, the hospital accreditation organization) was here, it’d be all over.”
To which I answered, “Fuck JCAHO. She was also a threat to my wife, and I was defending her.”
She left in a huff when she saw I wasn’t going to accept her reprimand. The orderly thanked me for the help. I was eating a bag of [Eric Cartman] Cheezy Poofs [/EC] before hand; when it was over, I did a surgical scrub of my hands and threw away the bag so I wouldn’t ingest anything I got from her.
I did some more stuff, like claiming VWife’s valuables, and when I was walking out to leave, I passed by the nursing supervisor’s office. The orderly was there, complaining about a doctor wanting to write him up for taking down the wacko, so I injected myself into that conversation. The nurse was sympathetic to him, because he acted in self defense."
“I witnessed the whole thing, and I assisted in getting her restrained. I’ll back his story” A look of “I’m appalled” flashed on her face.
“You’re not just anybody?”
“No I’m not. I’m a fireman and student EMT.”
Her eyes lit up, and she asked where. I identified the Mayberry VFD and the county rescue squad, and she took down my name and phone numbers if they needed me to tell my side of the story.
That’s it for now. VWife just called, upset that she’s had no pain meds today or anything to eat since before the wreck, so I guess I have to open a can of whoopass on the hospital staff.
I’ve been surfing the net because I’ve got that red, itchy rash going on underneath the ring I wear on my left ring finger. It’s a channel-set, with 5 small cubic zirconium stones, inherited from my Mom. Last time, I cleaned the ring good and it cleared up. Apparently, soap and water will get up under the rings, especially on channel set ones, and create irritation and infection. A different suggestion was to soak the ring in a mix of vinegar and peroxide. I may try that one. Guess I’ll just have to remember to clean it on a regular basis.
Give her a big hug when she’s healed enough to have one, you hear?
