Um... let's start with you, dumbest, laziest dickbag fire rescue team of all time. So, you know when you get called to the scene of a rollover MVC at high speed on the highway with lots and lots of damage to the vehicle where alcohol is involved and the patients are lethargic and don't remember what happened, and you are between a hospital that is a trauma center and a hospital that isn't a trauma center? Yeah, those patients should probably be taken to the one that's a trauma center. Yeah, that's okay, just try to remember next time. Oh, you also might try taking vital signs on your patient en route next time instead of sneaking in the room behind me and writing down the vital signs I'm taking on a paper towel, typing them into your report like you did them at the scene and then handing them to me thinking I won't notice. I know it's a total bummer to have to drive out of your way and like, do stuff instead of getting back in bed, but you do get paid for this I think.
Well, I think that's about it- shall we go to you, crazy lady? Yeah, epsom salt? Doesn't work as a laxative. In fact, don't ingest it. At all. It's not that kind of salt. And when you aspirate said epsom salt and get all hypoxic on me and stuff, I can't give you all the Dilaudid in the Pyxis. Yeaah. Sorry.
Great. And you, girl with disturbing number of children at your age. The provider may be concerned with your satting at 100 "I can't breathe but give me the phone so I can call my baby daddy and bring me some juice too" routine, but I can't say I am. That's neither here nor there, but just know that when you insist on juice 15 times and then proceed to puke all over the floor while you are within arms length of the trash can, and then stare at me like "bitch, clean that up" while you watch the disney channel in your room, I WILL NOT BRING YOU MORE JUICE.
Well, I believe that's it for us today. If you have any questions you will find me on the psych floor where I plan on being admitted for my suicidal ideation that I now have thanks to all of you.