Things you don't forget in EMS(ER1)

 In the ER

I’ve said it before — I can’t stand drunk people.
And this call is precisely why.

We picked up a person who was passed out in town. Nothing fancy. Breathing fine, vitals good, completely out cold. One of those situations where the best medicine is leaving them the hell alone.

I always tell new employees, students, and partners the same thing:
Don’t poke the bear.
If a drunk person is asleep and their vitals are good, let them sleep. You wake them up, you own whatever comes next.

We brought them into the ER, got assigned a room, and offloaded without issue. I explained the situation to the nurse taking over — super sweet, calm, professional. She was also pregnant at the time.

As I’m giving the patient care report, she starts hooking the patient up to the monitor. Everything’s fine until the blood pressure cuff starts to inflate.

That’s when the bear woke up.

The patient exploded off the bed and lunged for the nurse.

There’s no time to think in moments like that. You either call for security and hope, or you handle business. I chose option two.

The next thing that clown knew, they were pinned against the wall with my forearm, suddenly very aware that they had made a grave mistake. Security showed up seconds later and took over the rest.

The nurse wasn’t hurt — just shaken. Understandably.

A couple of months later, she had twins. They’re driving age now.

Every time I think about that call, it reinforces the rule:
Don’t poke the bear.

This next one was a little person with a big attitude.

I brought them to the ER one night for a minor issue. If I had to guess, they were cold, hungry, and wanted a warm place and a meal. Happens all the time. I get it.

What I didn’t get was the attitude.
They were mouthy the entire ride.

About halfway to the hospital, they met Silent Darrin.

When we pulled up, they said they wanted to walk in. Fine by me — easier on everyone. I had hold of their left arm as the ER doors opened.

At that exact moment, an off-duty police officer working a side gig, still in uniform, was walking out.

My patient ripped free of my grip, ducked their head, and RAMMED that officer like a battering ram hitting a solid oak door.

That decision aged badly — immediately.

Just inside the door to the left was an ER stretcher. I grabbed the patient, spun them toward it, and the officer added a well-placed black boot in the keister to emphasize the poor life choice that had just been made. The patient ended up draped across the stretcher — only the top half — and received a very stern reminder never to do it again.

I told the officer I’d be a witness if they wanted to take action.

They looked at me and said,
“Nah. I got all the justice I needed.”

Gotta love silly people.


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