Positively Providential, Said Smoketh

Smoketh had a rather disheartening experience today in the hospital, hence the five lurs being lurred all at the same time. Truly, positively providential could turn into a negatively…. see, even my alliterative abilities are failing. Positively providential could turn into a negatively…. Nega. Let’s settle with that: nega, although that term is quickly falling into disuse, and deservedly so.

This reminds me, back in 2009 during one of my duties as the night MHAPOD (night ER duty) and that post was still quite toxic, having to take care of up to thirty patients (and during the lepto craze, Tessieloopagooparoop had a record number of 43 patients), there was this one patient everyone has been having difficulty transferring to the ward. This guy was practically brain dead, and since he did something really nasty and unspeakable to his children he had no bantay, and as we all know bantay equals life. Someone should probably make a study on  this: quality of bantay to chances of making it alive in our emergency room.

So this patient was all brain dead, or as I was insisting in the chart, he probably had “lock-in syndrome”. I know, playing all neurologist, and I think I did refer this patient to Neurologist Shipper Jack Knight. I was just embarrassed to admit my basis for the referral then: I saw this on CSI.

After weeks on end some distant relative finally arrived at around 2 am and approached me, saying she would request to have the respiratory support and all removed and she would take him home. But then when I talked to the police on the phone I was basically told that: I can’t let this patient go home as he still has a criminal charge.

What the hellellellellellel, with extra ellellellel’s for the insufferable heat, kaantukan, stench, and over-all infernal condition of the ER. I think I whined some lowly, unprofessional whine to the police and ordered him to get out of bed and to come to the ER right that moment. He got to the ER in two seconds. Ordering a police is fun–this is for all the almost-tickets I got, you police guy still in your sleeping shorts, how could that possibly be speeding when I am always a nervous wreck when I drive?!?!. So much angst building up, only to come out in a whiny: Pe-pe-pero…. di na po sya makakatakas.

But in my head of heads of heads of heads of hearts of heads: Or couldn’t he?
In exasperation with all the legalese I just had the guy admitted after hawking and making tiktik and guarding a potential vacant bed for hours on end. To this very day finding a vacant bed for that patient is one of my finest accomplishments.

If there are any lawyers reading this, I want to know: If I allowed to have the guy go under a “home against advice” waiver, and he escaped because he has been faking brain-deadness all this time, would I go to a selda, get gang-raped, and grow weird boils all over me? I am deathly afraid of selda. Which makes me miss my batchmates all of a sudden: Let’s have a batch viewing of Selda!

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