I am spending a lot of time in the punishment booth lately as I seem to have become one of the only nurses where I work who was dumb enough to sit through this 2 hour triage class where they teach you how to appropriately rate the severity of all the STD exposures and dental pains we see everyday. Anyway. I've been exposed to dangerous levels of foolishness lately, and let me just say there are a few things you can do up there that will erase any guilt I may have had for sending you back out in the waiting room:
-Having a pseudoseizure- Well, obviously. But people still do it. I mean, why you would voluntarily get on the floor of the most ghetto hospital in the county is beyond me. But if you're feeling well enough to do the worm or whatever that motion is in my triage room then you are well enough to wait behind a couple of other people who aren't acting like that.
-Letting someone else give your triage information when you are perfectly capable of talking- For some reason this was the weapon of choice last night. All dudes having their wives or girlfriends give their complaint, their medical history, even the pain scale. Really man? There is no way she can know that. Use your big boy words and tell me your own medications, for real.
-Using a wheelchair when there is nothing wrong with your legs- Why does abdominal pain always require a wheelchair? No, I mean, I'm really asking.
-Bonus complaints- So I know you're here for lady problems and this may seem like it's an excellent time to tell me that you also may or may not have bed bugs, but it really isn't. Now I have another phantom itch, so thanks for that.
-Being crazy loud- There are a few good reasons for me to hear you from the waiting room, but not many. If I can hear you eating, chewing your gum, or wretching before I can see you, it's generally not a good sign.
-And while we're on the subject, eating- Yeah, if I'm getting interference on the oximeter from the cheeto dust on your fingers then I'm gonna go ahead and assume your airway is intact, next please.
-Talking on the phone- Yeah, if it isn't life threatening enough for you to stop your conversation for the three minutes it takes me to triage you it probably isn't really an emergency.
-Yelling at me- The ultimate. Yeah, if I'm opening the door to get someone else to triage, posting yourself in front of the door and screaming at me about why you're not getting a room for the dental pain you've left untreated for months is not going to get you back to a room or get you yet another prescription for Vicodin any faster. If I was in charge of who goes back to a room when, I would award you 200 douchebag points and let you think about your life choices in the waiting room for a little longer, but since I'm not, there is really no reason to raise your voice.
Am I forgetting anything?