Reviewing old files I came across this post from 2007 (written in 2003), and decided to re-post it, adding the illustration.
At least that is how I think of myself, and I believe those who
know me would agree with this humble assessment. I abhor violence of any kind and would never think of
striking someone, well, OK, maybe I would think
of it, but would never do so!
(When I was 9 years old I did punch Eddie and his cousin in their noses,
but that was only because they provoked me.) Except in very rare circumstances I do not yell and scream at
others. In fact, my life in
general has been focused on making other people feel better about themselves,
both physically and emotionally.
So the incident I am about to describe is totally out of character for
me, in fact looking back I cannot believe it really happened, but it did.
Emergency medicine in a busy city hospital can be challenging and
stressful, especially late on Friday and Saturday nights when there is no
telling who and what will walk through the door. The experience can drive an otherwise sane and gentle person
to uncharacteristic behavior. THAT
is my excuse, and I’m sticking to it!
Shortly after the ”last call” in the local pubs we could count on
several patients scattered about the ER on gurneys in various states of acute
intoxication. Most of the time
they were understandably subdued and quiet, but there was always the occasional
obnoxious drunk who could not resist articulating his (they were almost always
men.) alcohol-tainted feelings about his current life’s circumstances.
It had been an especially busy night and I was near the end of my
shift in the acute care unit. I
was tired and depleted, struggling to cope with all that was required of me,
and this one very noisy and obscene drunk was beginning to get on my
nerves. A constant stream of
obscenities flowed from his mouth, loud enough to be heard by the other
patients in the area. I politely
asked him to be quiet, repeatedly, to no avail. I tried pleading, coxing, and even bribing, but nothing
worked. Finally in desperation I
threatened him! I told him that if
he did not cease his yelling I would remove his filthy socks from his equally
filthy feet and stuff them in his mouth!!
Actually I believe I yelled something like, “if you don’t shout your
goddamn filthy mouth I’ll’....well, you get the idea. He told me to F___ off, and continued to yell and swear. So I did it! To the shock of the nurses and staff,
and to the patient, I pulled off one of his socks, balled it up, and shoved it
into his mouth.
I don’t know how many of you readers have had the occasion to
remove socks from the feet of some one who hasn’t bathed in who knows how long;
the skin of the lower legs and feet is dry, flaky, and dirty, and when a sock
is pulled of the foot it is invariably accompanied by dry flakes of dirty skin.
I really don’t know how long it remained in his mouth, far less
than a minute. But it was
effective. He knew I was not some
one to be antagonized; in his alcohol-saturated mind I was mean and evil, and
certainly not a compassionate healer.
I suspected that even the ER staff looked at me a little differently
after that.
There is no telling what a Friday night shift in the ER will do to
a person
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