Over the years I have had to deal with medical people and most of them are pretty damned good people.
For some odd reason Neighbor Bob is about as unlucky with them as I am lucky and I know this isn't Bob's fault, but his sense of timing.
The other day I went to the vets with the cat. I was wearing a camwalker as a result of a previous injury and of all the dumb luck I met another woman there wearing an identical, although smaller camwalker. I sat down next to her and someone looked at me and asked me the usual stupid question. "Did you have an accident?" they asked.
I instantly replied that I had not and then went on to explain that I had mutilated myself with an ice pick to impress Jodie Foster. Apprently the woman next to me shared the same sense of humor because she told the nosy dumbass that she had used a chain saw to tear up her foot to impress Tom Hanks.
DIckie's dad stopped by today for a minute.
Of course the nosy guy gave an indignant look and wandered over to the other side of the waiting room.
What happened to Bob a while ago was a travesty.
Bob was working with a 5 gallon can of some kind of waterproofing and knew he was going to use the entire can so he decided to poke a vent hole in the top of the can to let air in and facilitate pouring the stuff into the sprayer he was using.
Bob underestimated the thickness of the steel the can was made of and he steadied the can with one hand and with his pocket knife took a good stab at the can top. The knife glanced off of the can top and went straight into his left wrist.
He instinctively pulled the knife out and began bleeding like a stuck pig and as quickly as he could slipped his wrist up his coat and pressed hard and at least slowed the bleeding down.
When he got to the hospital, the triage people took him straight in and made sure rthe bleeding was stopped. Then the accusations started. Apparently they saw a knife wound on a wrist and added up one and one and got three. The ER nurse just KNEW this was a suicide attempt and instantly called in a security cop to be a witness and started interrogating Bob.
Bob picked up on what was going on quickly and realized the consequences of a bad answer and chose his answers very carefully when he realized that one wrong answer would likely lead to him being carted off to some ward or another for psychological evaluation. He was in a minefield and knew it.
He told me that the security guard looked on at the proceedings with a look of disgust on his face because he knew just what the ER nurse was doing and knew it to be wrong, but he said nothing. I have met the same guard when I went into that hospital to have some tests done and he struck me as a really decent man of character.
When the accusations and questions didn't seem to convict Bob, the nurse turned to cheesy word games until Bob grew disgusted and decided to end it.
"Ok," said Bob. "I'll change my story. I drank half a bottle of Jack, drove downtown looking for a hooker and an eight-ball of blow and got into a knife fight with three ni&&ers that tried to rip me off!"
The nurse, and the guard, a black man, glared at him angrily and Bob turned to the guard.
"Sorry for the slur," Bob said. "How'd I do? Racism, alcohol abuse, prostitution, drug abuse and violence all in one neat little ball. Think she can work with that one? Did I miss anything?"
"The anger in the guard's face abated. "I think you got them all," said the guard.
"Did you hear that?" the nurse asked the guard.
"He did," interrupted Bob and I'll bet you he's not going to purjure himself in court if I decide to take this there.
The guard looked at the two of them and simply said, "I'm not going to get in the middle of this."
He turned to the nurse. "Look, you've questioned this patient long enough and it looks to me like this is just a simple accident. Sometimes and accident is just an accident.You ought to simply go with that."
That changed her tone.
Bob had to have, I believe, three seperate surgeries for that accident and has recovered 100%. He wound up making a pretty good friend out of that guard and their relationship is funny to watch. When Bob took me in for a colonoscopy to make sure I got home OK, we passed the guard and he recognized Bob and grinned. "How ya doing, Archie?" he asked Bob warmly.
Bob grinned and held up his arm. "!00%," he replied.
My spat with the medical community came when I was filling out paperwork and left my mother's cause of death blank as she had passed well into her 80s and I figured it to be irrevelant as anyone in their 80s can die of anything they please. They ask for this information for genetic reasons and if a woman made it well into her 80s she likely has pretty good genes. It's all the doc generally needs to know.
Of course, there is always someone that doesn't get it and after I turned the form in he woman I handed it to shouted out my name in a bossy, arrogant tone of voice and held up the form. "You forgot to list your mother's cause of death," she said in a heartless tone.
I went to the desk and wrote 'knife fight' in the blank and when she read it she demanded an explaination.
So I spun some wild tale of Mom getting all coked up and heading down to the Kit Kat Club and entering the wet T-shirt contest and taking first place. I explained that some little hussy with a bad boob job got jealous and stuck her with a shiv and told her that Ma had managed to carve up the little hussy's face with a busted beer bottle before she bled out.
Of course, the woman got pretty angry, especially because the entire waiting room was laughing like holy hell. She told me that was the biggest lie she had ever heard.
"Prove otherwise," I snapped. "That's my story and I'm stickin' to it! Any woman that makes it to her mid 80s can die of anything she wants without being questioned!"
I immediately got a supporter from the waiting room that was unexpected but not totally surprising. Little old ladies can be loose cannons.
"He has a point," said a sweet little old lady. "I'm 83 and when I finally go I'd hate to think that my children spent time poring over the exact cause and rooting around trying to find some reason. Just let me go with a little dignity."
The woman behind the desk seethed and I returned to sit down across from my supporter. She looked up at me like an imp.
"Sounds like your mother put up a pretty good fight on the way out," she said.
"Hacked up the little hussy's face pretty good with a beer bottle," I said, with a wink.
"God Bless her," said the little old lady with a smirk.
When the doctor saw me he asked me anbout the incident and I told him I had left the space blank because I felt that because my mother had lived so long I considered it irrevelant and the argument wasn't about what the secretary had asked me, but the angry arrogant tone she had asked in. Had she seemed to forget that I was a human being?
The doctor looked at me thoughtfully and told me he'd have a word with her.
my other blog is: http://officerpiccolo.blogspot.com/ http://piccolosbutler.blogspot.com/
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