Posted on 11/06/2006 12:04:18 AM PST by 60Gunner
Last night a "GDFD" (get drunk, fall down) was brought into the Emergency Department by aid car. She arrived, as most drunks do, bellowing obscenities and calling the staff vile names. And this young lady was also a spitter. Nice.
The law allows us to restrain a patient who poses a threat to himself or to staff, and our MD, a particularly excellent one, wasted no time in decreeing that it be made so. Security is always down there, so we summoned them to help us put the leathers and a spit sock on the young lady. We then shifted her over to our bed and unceremoniously strapped her down.
While all this was going on I was getting report from the very beleaguered-looking aid car crew. It seems that the patient was with her friends at a bachelorette party and the patient had a little more than her share of the alcoholic beverages, and when the staff decided that enough was enough about four shots of Jaegermeister ago, they cut her off. Little Miss Adventure got up to voice her dismay and wound up on her backside, having struck her head on the way down and picking up a nasty hematoma on the back of her head for a souvenir. "Thank God she's not bleeding so we don't have to sew her up," I thought.
It is interesting to note that although the young woman was maybe only 5 feet 3 inches tall and weighed perhaps a buck-five soaking wet, she fought like a wildcat in a burlap sack with a snake in it. Some people hold their liquor; with others, their liquor holds them. This lady was simply awash in the Nyquil-like stench of Jaeger.
The staff got Little Miss Adventure settled in (read: strapped down), and I obtained IV access (in this case with a big ol' 18-gauge in her antecubital fossa- that's the inner elbow for you laypersons) and drew blood for lab assays.
Oh, yeah. Little Miss Adventure was also a biter.
Now, we needed to get a urine toxicology screen as well. Since I am male, and this woman was in her twenties, obviously I was not the one to go in and do it. But I did inform her that yes, Nurse So-and-So was about to put a catheter down there.
"The ---- she is!" declared Little Miss Adventure.
Three minutes later, Nurse So-and-So walked out with a sample of urine, which she held up for me with a flourish, and I began charting.
Suddenly, someone behind me says, "230."
Then I hear, "Naw. She's tiny. 180."
Suddenly, numbers are being called out around the Nurse's desk as if it was the set of The Price is Right.
A brief explanation is called for here. Any time we get a GDFD into the Emergency Department, an informal bet about the blood alcohol content (BAC) immediately forms. It usually starts by someone saying, "249" (or 0.249). So without fail, within thirty seconds the entire front staff of the ED has a number except for me. After some prodding and some quiet consideration, I call out, "310."
"Get out!" says Nurse So-and-So. "She's maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet."
"No," says I, "I will bet you a pizza it's at least 300."
"Okay, Boy Wonder. What makes you so sure?"
"I think she's got a tolerance, that's what. Anyway, 310 is my number and I'm sticking with it."
"Have it your way," says Nurse So-and-So with a dismissive wave.
So all the while, Little Miss Adventure is screaming, kicking, spitting, and offering her pointed and graphic opinions about the lineage and sexual orientation of every staff member she who dared enter her room, even the poor little housekeeper who came in to change the linen bag. (It's a good thing she doesn't habla the Ingles, or at least much. Still, the darling woman came out of the room shaking her head and muttered, "stupid drunk b----."
About a half hour later, the labs came back. Yes, I was wrong. But we were all shocked. Her BAC was 0.418. What that means is that this little firecracker had herself a helluva tolerance for booze. I've seen worse, but not in a little chicky boom-boom as small as Little Miss Adventure. Her tox screen also showed THC. That's the groovy stuff found in marijuana.
Also around this time, a couple of the patient's girlfriends filtered sheepishly into the ED. They all seemed genuinely concerned, a little anxious, and shockingly underdressed for the weather. I averted my eyes, causing Nurse So-and-So to snort. At last, one of them pipes up in a nasal, whiny tone that would have been stereotypically applied to a stripper, "Can we see [the patient]?"
"And you are...?" I asked, looking over my computer screen.
"We're her friends. And we work with her. She was at my bachelorette party," says she.
"I'll tell her you're here. What's your name?"
"It's Nikki. With an I." she says, spelling her name and holding out her hand.
"Charmed," I answer, shaking her hand and stiflng the urge to guffaw. I went into Miss Adventure's room and told her she had some friends here, and asked if she would like to have them in- one at a time.
"Oh, pleeeeeeeeze?" She whined.
"Sure." I exit, motion to Nikki-with-an-I, and tell her to go in alone, to speak quietly, and that she has only five minutes.
Well, of course, the moment Nikki-with-an-I enters the room, the Boo-Hoo Fest begins. Miss Adventure escalates, Nikki-with-an-I feeds the fire, and pretty soon they're both bawling and screeching. I removed Nikki-with-an-I. Miss Adventure called me more names. Nikki-with-an-I looked a little shaken.
"Wow, she's really plowed, huh?" says Nikki-with-an-I.
"Like Farmer Brown's back forty," says Nurse So-and-So from behind me.
"How long will she be like this?"
"I dunno. Depends on her. It'll be awhile. Can't really tell you much more than that."
Well, do you think she will be able to work Monday?"
"Well, I don't know. What does she do?"
"Oh, we're both kindergarten teachers."
I have never heard the entire staff of my Emergency Department fall completely silent before. It was as if the breath had been sucked out of our lungs. But Nurse So-and-So, of course, recovered first:
"Thank God I homeschooled."
Actually, it's only .812%
That's what i thought until I read this in a Wikipedia article:
Blood alcohol content (BAC) or blood alcohol concentration is the concentration of alcohol in blood. It is measured either as a percentage by mass, or by mass per volume, or a combination. For example, a BAC of 0.20% (2.0 ‰) can means 2 grams of alcohol per 1000 grams of an individual's blood, or it can mean 0.2 grams of alcohol per 100 milliliters (also called a deciliter) of blood.
Found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_alcohol_content
Oh, horsefeathers. A person would be pickled, literally, at 81% alcohol. It's .812 % by weight, so .812 grams of alcohol per 100 grams of blood.
I've seen some amazing things in the ER too, my FRiend...
Saw a guy with a huge butcher knife sticking out of his chest...it was actually moving with each beat of his heart...but he was so drunk there was no way he was gonna lay there and get treatment. No...he was going home, according to him!
Saw a kid that nearly had his arm cut off when he shoved it through his (ex) girlfriend's sliding glass door in a drunken rage. They called a code blue on the kid and I was on the code team. When I turned the corner into the ER, I nearly fell on my backside, the place was awash in blood! (They stablized him and I had the honor of taking care of him later on...he actually asked me out. Yeah, right.)
I went to start an IV on a guy that was totally plowed and apparently suffering from Korsakoff's. Big ol'guy...in his 60s, maybe 300lbs. He was just sitting there like a lump, so filthy that only you can imagine. I went to stick him and said "You'll feel a little stick." I stuck him and suddenly "WHAM!" I totally lost all my vision for a moment and realized the guy had beamed me with his balled-up fist on the side of my head! When I got my senses back, he was just sitting there again and his wife was apologizing profusely. I'm proud to say that I maintained the patency of the IV and continued on. (I was just a GN and now realize I could've probably charged him with assault or something, but didn't know that back then.)
I could go on and on...
You're reading it wrong, .812 is 0.812%.
Naw, it's still only a .81% concentration, less than one percent. It doesn't sound as exciting than blood stronger than beer, but it's reality. Eight percent blood would literally pickle tissues.
We've addressed location of the decimal point earlier in the thread. A reading of .812 is actually .812%.
~ Blue Jays ~
Makes much more sense to me. It's certainly not the strength of 190 proof grain alcohol.
There are some things that a man is just not supposed to see and 85 year old private parts are among them!
Cheer up! If you are lucky you will be looking at them in the mirror someday.
Now you've gone and done it! Expect to hear from the Pug Mafia any minute now.
I mean pug as in pugilist not canine.
Good recovery.
Which is why I try to stay on the straight and narrow.
When I give blood and they have trouble finding a vein, (which is most of the time, unfortunately), I giggle like a schoolgirl. Not very dignified, but for some reason, I just bust out laughing as they continue to poke.
Reformk12.com obviously has an agenda to make teachers look bad. The report of SAT scores cited on their page indicates that the education majors were solid "B" students in high school (482/483 SAT). Are you suggesting that "B" students are stupid? Or that only "A" students are qualified to be teachers? The "A" students are generally going to be attracted to professions that provide a better opportunity for higher compensation.
"One must never, never underestimate the strength of tiny women especially when they are high on stuff and/or drunk."
After I got out of the Navy and was going to school I was a bouncer at a Disco on the weekends. I can attest to the absolute insanity of drunken women especially when you tell them "NO". I've had to eject them and it's like grabbing a rabid Octopus with bad breath. They have every intent of killing you if they can. Fairer sex my hairy butt!
Oh, yeah. Watching a guy break handcuffs sure beats Ex-Lax for relieving constipation. (Guess how I know.)
You know something? If I were a kindergarten teacher today, with all the parents threatening to sue if I so much as raised my voice at their little darling, I'd probably hit the Jaegermeister as well :)
I was expecting this to be a dimocrat running for election. LOL!
She might have been Ted Kennedy's date!
ping
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