| Food for Thought |
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WARNING: Contents under pressure. DO NOT OPEN IN AN INTELLECTUAL VACUUM. ~ A rubber stamp
In a country well governed, poverty is something to be ashamed of. In a country badly governed, wealth is something to be ashamed of. ~Confucius
"The world needs dreamers and the world needs doers. But above all, the world needs dreamers who do." ~Sarah Ban Breathnach
"I would not exchange the laughter of my heart for the fortunes of the multitudes." ~Khalil Gibran
"We must be the change we wish to see in the world." ~Mahatma Gandhi
"How can we say there is peace when so many go hungry?" ~Oscar Arias Sanchez
"Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." ~Attributed to both T.H. Thompson and John Watson
"Ours is a world of nuclear giants and ethical infans. We know more about war than we know about peace, more about killing than we know about living. ~Omar N Bradley
"If you have knowledge, let others light their candles in it." ~Margaret Fuller
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| Friday, June 29, 2007 |
| A Stitch, or Hundred, in Time |
Many years ago, I worked briefly at a rural hospital...
One night, I got off duty about 10:30p and went to my room, conveniently located steps from the hospital's back entrance. After doing the usual winding-down type of things, I fell into bed sometime after 11p and was blissfully dead to world...
Until I was called to the ER at about 1:30 am... and was met by a female inmate and 4 guards. The patient was apparently a habitual self-mutilator, borne out by the fact that, with the exception of her face, every bare inch of skin I could see -- she wore a T-shirt and shorts -- was covered with silvery scar marks.
I set to work. The woman had somehow managed to cut herself on her thigh and both arms, long slices that weren't too deep but ended up taking perhaps 30-40 stitches in total. Job done, the patient and her entourage went away and I wearily filled out the paperwork before I trudged back to bed.
At approximately 3 am, the phone rang again. I confess I didn't really hear what was said on the phone, only that I was needed back in the ER. As I dragged myself through the long, bright white corridors, I passed some laughing nurses -- who informed me that the inmate was back. Yes, I really did think they were joking at my expense.
Then I entered the ER, and there was my lovely patient from less than 2 hours ago.
Somehow, despite the fact that she had apparently been placed under 1:1 observation at the corrections facility after the first visit to me, she had managed not only to rip open some of the stitches I had meticulously placed earlier, but had also extended her initial wounds.
What was tired T&B to do?
I don't know if these 4 guards were the same ones as before, but this time they brought large and well-lit videocameras and taped the procedure from beginning to end. Again, the patient was cooperative, although perhaps the fact that 1 of the guards was standing by her shoulder, a hand firmly gripping a baton, might have had something to do with it.
So, once more, I stitched up the woman, they left, I did the paperwork, then slunk back through the corridors to my room, barely conscious but fervently hoping that that was the last I'd seen of the patient and her buddies.
Ha! You didn't think that was the end of it, didn't you? Yes, that's right. On top of apparently even more added security, the woman had done it again. This time, however, I was saved.
I woke up to do my rounds at about 6 am; as I traversed the familiar corridors, the nurses were preparing to change shifts. They told me I'd just missed my favorite patient. Like the trusting soul I was (ahem), I thought they were kidding.
It turned out that one of the attendings had tossed out (!!) the woman and her (surely accompanying) escorts when they'd arrived back in the ER around 5:30 am. He'd apparently refused in such terms as to make it clear that the ER was not a revolving door for the facility's inability to keep the woman from damaging herself and reopening her wounds...
At the end of my 2 months' service, as I was driving along the the main highway leading from the town, I saw a large van with wire-windows and the name of the region's corrections facility. For a few seconds, I wondered if the stitch-addicted woman was on board, then quickly put the metal to the petal.
Later, I found out that the patient had been transferred to a higher security center...
PS: For those of you familiar with MaryJanice Davidson's Undead series, I can't help but think this would be something that would happen to Marc Spangler, the ER physician room mate of Betsy and the gang. |
posted by Cheshire Cat @ 6/29/2007 02:25:00 pm   |
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| 1 teabag(s) brewed: |
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She was a cut above the rest.
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She was a cut above the rest.