Family Oriented

In the ER we take care of people from every profession (obviously, we can't turn anyone away).  Most professions are typical (factory worker, truck driver, teller, food service, etc).  Occasionally we get the more "exotic" professionals.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Making conversation I asked where she worked.  She then divulged a lot of information that was rather interesting.  She used to work at "Gentlemen's Club A" before they lost their liquor license (selling alcoholic drinks to minors).  She then got a job at "Gentlemen's Club B".

Gentlemen's Club A is going to be reopening soon (at least that's what their sign says, I drive past it regularly) so I asked if she was going to return to Club A.  She informed me she would not because Club B was more family oriented.

So, that's not the reason I would ever expect out of an exotic dancer describing her place of employment.  "Hi Son, for your 12th birthday lets go to this family joint I heard about. You'll love it!"  Not exactly what I have in mind.

Her explanation isn't much better.  Club A is more cutthroat there between the workers.  They are likely to kick you while you're down (I pointed out the obvious, all the employees are competing for money).  Apparently Club B is more like a family (wrong choice of words, for all we know this area they could be family) and they are more friendly.

Interesting.  Anyone up for a family outing to Club B?

I don't think so

I have a 15 year old female patient who claims she can't see after getting hit in the face with a cell phone.  She obviously has a swollen black eye to one side but no trauma to the other side.  She refuses to even try to open her eye (unless she thinks you're not looking where she'll not only open both eyes but she is able to text from her phone without any problem until you walk in the room where she'll then pretend she can't read/write anymore on her phone).

At one point she needed to walk to the bathroom, once again "walking blindly" with her younger sister helping her out.  She calls my name and grabs my elbow (how could she see where that was?) so I can help "guide" her to the bathroom (where she then proceeds to take care of everything herself, presumably, because no way in hell I'm hanging out in there).

By the end of the night it's time to determine whether or not her eye will need stitches.  Because of all the dried blood near the site of injury (because when you're bleeding you just let it run down your face, no need to try and control it) we have to soak (damp cloth) and scrub (gauze and elbow grease). Because of the pain she is in (honestly I believe she hurt, just milked it for everything) she said she needed to hold my hand.  At this point she reaches out and grabs my hand (miraculously able to see exactly where my hand was even though her eyes were still "swollen shut").  Keep in mind her girlfriend (whose perfume smelled a lot like wacky tobacky), mother and sister are in the room with her cousin cleaning the room next door (who also couldn't figure out how to unlock a push lock door, that's something special).

Seriously, she just needed to push the handle down to unlock it and she couldn't figure it out.  Please don't breed...

I don't think so.  I literally pulled my hand away from her and pointed out her family and friends who could hold her hand during this "traumatizing moment" (ok, I didn't actually say traumatizing moment, just told her about her family in the room who could hold her hand).

Several co-workers said I should have just let her hold my hand so she could get a contact buzz from the situation (I think there was enough buzz in that room just going second hand. Here's hoping I don't get drug tested any time soon).

So, what would you do in this scenario?

Chuckles

Another after work post.  Not tired enough to fall asleep but not awake enough to do much so why not recall a story?

My last patient today was a high school senior who dislocated his shoulder, I'm calling him Chuckles.  All things considered he was handling it well, making jokes and laughing with us in our attempts to help him feel better.

It just looks painful, I need something just looking at this....

Doc comes in and we tell him we're going to administer some meds to help him relax and sleep a little while we pop it back in (shoulder reduction for those requiring medical terminology).  Doc administers Etomidate so we can perform the reduction.

Etomidate is a short acting anesthetic we administer to perform the procedure.  The process is called conscious sedation (they aren't fully under sedation but gone enough that they don't care and won't remember).

Chuckles passes out mid sentence shortly after administering the medication.  Shoulder is reduced without any problems, less than 10 minutes later the Chuckles is almost back to his baseline.  

When he wakes up he is stoned.  He laughs at everything, asks his mom to record him so they can remember, etc.  He calls his girlfriend, all the while laughing at everything (that's why the nickname).

Trying to see how oriented he is I ask him to give me his birthday.  His response, "I'm 18, you do the math."  I explain to him that I am not being quizzed, he is and needs to give his birth year.  So he starts counting backwards until he gets to his birth year.  

For being as stoned as he is he does a good job problem solving.

I point out to him that he is stoned.  He yells out, "I'm not stoned, I never do drugs!"

I responded, "Dude, I gave you the meds.  You're stoned because of me."

He replies, "Oh.  Man that's some good stuff, you should think about selling it.  You'd make a fortune."

Chuckles is funny.  Eventually he is discharged and asks to be taken to the vending machines.  The next time I see Chuckles he is still in the wheelchair (too dizzy to stand up by himself) inching himself around using his legs and trying to keep all the honey buns from falling to the floor (and failing miserably).

Honey Buns, snack of choice for a post shoulder reduction

I must say, Chuckles made my night.

Joking with the parents

Some background, I am American-Mexican (I know most of the United States says Mexican-American, just ask Cheech and Chong) but I am American first, of Mexican heritage.

Continuing, sometimes jokes go over my parent's head.  The only thing worse than telling a bad joke is having to explain why the bad joke is funny.

I told a joke that was (in my opinion) hilarious.  As much as I want to take credit for this joke it has to go to Gary Johnson.

Here goes (I'll use a pic):

My parents don't follow politics too closely but they are usually in tune to the major things (like Trump building a wall type stuff).  Unfortunately for me I had to explain this joke to my mom.  She starts laughing uncontrollably. She likes the joke so much (now that she understands) that she passes the phone to my dad and tells me to tell him.

I repeat the joke to my dad.  He also doesn't get it.  He is usually a little more up to speed with politics than my mom.  Unfortunately I had to explain the joke to him as well.  

 Instead of laughing at the joke he asked me "why would the Mexicans pole vault when they normally dig tunnels?"

I got to admit, this caught me off guard.  He has done this before, catching me off guard with his jokes/statements.  He once told me our family couldn't be called wetbacks because we crossed the Rio Grande when it was ankle deep (just to clarify, both me and my parents were born in the US, just a joke).