I recently had some uncomfortable business with my testicles which led me to St. Michael's Hospital Emergency.
Waiting in the triage area, one gets an appreciation for the trials those who work in emergency rooms around the nation face every day.
To my left, a guy who's foot was sore, and he wanted everyone to know about it. It was unclear whether his sore foot or his loud behaviour were directly related to, or a result of, the amount of mouthwash he had drank for breakfast.
To my right, an old salt whose smile looked like bubble gum with a few shards of glass stuck in it, and who, when asked, reported:
"My gums are shit and my teeth are falling out."
When told that St. Mike's has no dental surgeon, his reply was:
". . .and I have leprosy."
The look of panic which overtook a wheelchair-bound grandmother sitting on the other side of this leper was classic. Up until that moment she had been looking as miserable and vacant as possible--a pantomime to effect quick admittance--hoping, as we all did, that if you look pathetic enough the triage nurse will take pity on you and save you the hours-long wait in queue for a doctor. Upon hearing that leprosy was in her midst, she became saucer-eyed and tried to roll away. Not being a regular user of wheelchair's, while also trying to be discreet and not offend the leper's feelings, she failed to realise that the wheelchair brakes were engaged. She was getting nowhere, but it wasn't for lack of trying.
And lastly, across from me was someone's poor demented father who had taken a spill during his morning walk. The someone in question was clearly too busy to be dealing with dear old dad; dear old dad's hand, it should be noted, was the size of a small Nerf football. I couldn't help but stare--it was the HUGEST hand I have ever seen--and he kept flapping it in an irresistible way. He was tantalizing me to look; he was dangling bait to catch people with poor manners.
I had to bite.
Needless to say, my emergency room experience turned out to be both very interesting and very pleasant. I received excellent service, and would recommend it to anyone looking for something to do on a Friday night when they've broken something as a result of drinking. Or who have shooting pain in their balls.
Try spending Xmas eve at St Mikes. The chair beside the triage sign-in cage was covered in blood. There were two people ahead of us and we got to see someone 5 hours after gracing their door.
I really don't want to know what was wrong. But I hope you're ok.
I'm sorry I kicked you so hard in the nuts B. I only intended to hurt you emotionally.
How are "Torvill" and "Dean" after your emerge visit?
"Torvill" and "Dean" are feeling a lot more plucky!
They had a hell of a headache for about a week.
Now I'm ship-shape!
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