Screw You ALL

Ughhhh. I feel like I need a week off and about a gallon of gin after just about every triage shift I work. I get stuck up there without fail, the most awful night of the week, every week, and by the end of it my attitude towards everything is absolutely horrible and I am a horrendous bitch and I hate myself for it. I get so disgusted with humanity and then myself that I just want to become a crazy hermit and never talk to anyone ever again. But even more so today, like the douchebaggery of tonight really took the cake.

It was a team effort. And I have to commend the creativity, because people did some amazing shit that I've never seen before. I mean, yeah, coming in with your parents when you're a grown ass adult is old hat- obviously you're not a productive human being so you probably still live with them anyway- but I think tonight marks the record for the amount of times I've seen a man swear at other women in front of his own mother. Even more notably, it's also the first time I've seen a grown ass man throw himself on the floor, dry heave, push his mothers hand with the emesis bag away so he could vomit on the floor of the triage booth, proceed to roll around in said vomit, and then demand his elderly mother pick his 200 pound ass up and place him back in the wheelchair because he "didn't feel like getting up." WTF. Also, the first time I have said to anyone anything like, "Okay, fine. Well, we're trying to get you back and get you seen, but if you don't feel like getting up you can just lay here on the floor and I'll leave and triage people in the next booth. Neither me or your mother is big enough to pick you up, so that isn't happening. The pain and nausea medicine is back there. Get up when you decide you want it." (floor to wheelchair time- 2 seconds). Also, before you feel bad, may I also point out that the culprit in all this drama was that someone's tum-tum hurt x 3 hours after eating some bad sausage and biscuits. Awww.

Also, people trying to weasel out of the complicated process of writing down their name, birthday, and chief complaint all the time, but doing so because you have a sore throat, then faking a syncopal episode, THEN being well enough to scream at me when I try to get you to finish your check in form in a wheelchair that I need to do it- YUP. Okay, it looks like your throat is feeling better now, so have a seat in the waiting room.

Oh, also, in case you were wondering, taking back a white lady with diaphoresis and chest pain before someone of another race with hemorrhoids means you're a racist. DUH.

So yes, I know we're short staffed and stuff and I should pick up extra, but I don't really think I'll be helpful when my state of mind is one of PUNCH EVERYTHING.