Life as a Nurse~Part 3

Full Moon, Saturday Night		


Is it a just urban legend that a full moon combined with a Saturday night

can bring out the worst and the insane antics of those who are

misfortunate enough to visit the ER? I have never been a superstitious

person, but I shudder when someone says the “Q” word around me, also

known as “gee, it sure is quiet around here.” Like the Saturday night

urban tale, when the quiet word is even hinted at, you are sure as shit

to be bombarded with hoards of the sickest, nastiest, and most unruly
patients.
 

Case in point:


The ER was completely full that night, obviously someone had mentioned

the “Q” word early on and by 7:00 p.m. we were in full swing. Every bed

was full, the ambulances were stacked down the hallways waiting to unload

and I was in charge of it all. Sometime around 10:00 p.m., I happen to

glance down the hallway at the triage area. Our triage area was set up

behind bullet proof glass and an armed security officer was in the waiting

room at all times. As I looked down the hall, I could hear screams from

men and women and the police were dragging in by his arms a fully bloodied

young man toward me. One bed had just opened up and the officers dumped

this young man face first on the Gurney. Standing in the middle of room,

I took a quick stock of my resources, We had two major trauma beds at that

time, both were full, I looked to bed one, then to bed eight.......bed one

wasn’t as sick as the police drop off. I yelled at the lady and her child,

“You, out of the bed, and into that chair. “ She was out of the bed faster

then the speed of light. John Doe was moved over to trauma one, the whole

way leaving a large trail of blood. If you have a queezy stomach, read no

further. I had seen so much trauma in life, things that no human should

have to see, I thought for sure that this guy had been shot multiple times.

Although he was covered with blood, I was having a hard time finding out

just where the bleeding was coming from. All fun aside, the team jumped

into super mode. IV’s were started, airway, breathing, circulation, and

full head to toe assessment was completed in just over two minutes.

That may seem like a short period of time, but the clock was ticking away

for John Doe just as surely as his blood was being lost on the floor

around me. He was intubated and we took over his breathing. His heart had

stopped and our tech was performing CPR. Now, I noticed that with each
 
compression of the patient’s chest, a steady stream of blood shot from his

left ear. Without any other visible signs of trauma, we had found our

source for his bleeding. It is a well-known fact that trauma that is

significant enough to stop your heart is usually a mortal wound. A quick

look at the clock said we had been performing CPR for over 20 minutes.

He had been shot in the back of the head, which had exited through his

ear over 30 minutes prior to the police dragging him in. He had lost his

golden hour if he had ever had one to begin with. Head wounds do not fare

very well. Time of death: 10:30 p.m.. As quickly as the team had

mobilized, they were just as fast to leave the scene. It was like watching

the rat’s jump off a sinking ship. I was alone in the room, blood on the

walls, on me, footprints on the floor in blood and a mess! We had just
 
declared this patient a coroners case, and homicide was on their way.
 
Going through the Gurney checking for any loose sharp metal objects,
 
I noticed a large bulge in the guys pants. I palpated it, and it was hard.

Oh god I thought, not a gun! Sharps contained, I waited for homicide.
 
Police tape was used and we taped off bed one as a crime scene, for at

that time, it was. When the detectives finally made it to the ER I was
 
interviewed and I then escorted them to room one. No one, and I mean no

one is allowed past that line under any exceptions unless you have
 
official police business. As we entered the room, I mentioned to one of

the detectives that he may have a gun on him and showed him the area that

I had felt the hard object. “Thank you miss. We will take over,” was all

I heard, Homicide never smiles, and they don’t take shit from anyone.
 
It is one of my long term goals to get a homicide detective to smile,
 
it hasn’t happened yet, but I keep trying. After several pictures and
 
an inventory of the patients personal belongings, it was found that he
 
didn’t have a gun. The object I was feeling was a very large roll of cash,

more than 10,000 dollars, all rolled into a nice hard pack. Another drug’s
 
deal gone bad. It was then that I noticed that the once loud and bustling

ER had become silent. It seems that the police dragging a bloody man
 
through the waiting room and into the ER had a chilling effect on the
 
patients waiting for their colds or other minor problems and they had
 
left. The only ones left were the patients still on gurneys and the poor
 
lady I had booted from the bed. We don’t always realize it, but during a
 
major trauma work up, our own voices rise and our language can be a bit
 
more colorful. It  is not uncommon for some smuck to be humming the old
 
Queen song, “Another one bites the dust.” ( Gallows humor again.)
 
Saturday Nights, gotta love them. At midnight I once again took stock of
 
my resources, body gone, mess cleaned, you would have never known that
 
John Doe had ever existed. About that time I heard the thunder of the
 
helicopter landing out front, and we were off and running again. This
 
time I could hear the  humming of, “ It’s another Saturday night and I
 
ain’t got anybody.” Now I ask you, Is this a job, or an adventure of a
 
lifetime?  On a side note, “ family” member called later that morning to
 
check on John Doe, they weren’t interested in his condition, only his
 
personal belongings, go figure! Now, here is the really funny part of
 
all this. During any Code blue, the pink ladies always show up with
 
cookies, coffee, for any family members that may want it. When they saw
 
what we were doing, they exited, stage right, leaving more bloody
 
footprints leading away from the ER. I was thinking a cookie and some
 
milk would taste pretty good about that time, but I have been known to
 
eat my dinner warmed in an emesis basin. Isn’t that normal?

Is this tragic, yes, of course it is?
 
Is it funny, well, that depends on how you look at it?
 
It is a sad commentary to our times, but if you stood back and
 
watched us doing our jobs and the injected humor that went along
 
with it,you would consider us to be either heartless bastards
 
or just a caring team trying to make sense of a senseless death.