speaking of cranky patients

[okay, I killed him - but I can explain...]

This should be posted on alt.tasteless.lite, as it *really* isn't too
tasteless, but since there isn't an a.t.lite to post on, here it stays:

I remember once I was working on the ambulance, and after clearing from a
cardiac arrest call, we were dispatched to a "routine" transport of an
elderly female with emphysema having trouble breathing. If you've never
dealt with elderly people with emphysema, this is just a taste:

"Hello ma'am, sir [you monstrosity], what's the problem?"
Possible answers:
"Everything."
"I'm sick, why do think I called?"
"Where do you want me to start?"
"Got a few weeks?"
"Don't talk to me, just take me to the hospital."

"I need to ask you a few question."
Possible answers:
"You're not a doctor, I don't need to talk to you."
"They have all my records at the hospital - you're wasting time."

"What medical problems do you have?"
Possible answers: - see above

"What medications do you take?"
Posiible answers: - see above, or
they hand you a shooping bag FULL of medications, and they say "Don't lode the
them."

Almost all emphysema patients are on home oxygen - and have been specifically
warned by their doctors not to exceed a certain limit - say two liters of
oxygen per minute via nasal prongs. So they say to you, as you hook up their
prongs (which are worn twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week - and
develop a crusty, flaky, dead-skin layer on them) "TWO liters! Only TWO
liters! Any more and I'll stop breathing!" <- promises, promises.

We get this patient onto the stretcher and into the elevator, and are on
our way down, when the patient says "Hey, I'm not getting any oxygen."
Sure enough, that last call emptied out our tank, and now our patient is
beginning to panic: "I can't breathe! My god, I can't breathe!" My partner,
who is behind the patient, and is near the oxygen tank, quickly pulls the
tube from it's connector, and unbeknownst to the patient, begins blowing into
the tube (approximating what I hope is two liters per minute). "There," I
say, winking at my partner, who is now trying not to laugh as she blows, "we
fixed the tank - do you feel better?" "Oh yeah, much better." says the
patient. So we're do okay, still going down to the first floor, when my
patient suddenly says - "Hey, how come this oxygen smells like coffee?"
Quick-thinking causes me to say: "Our company is trying a new product,
scented oxygen, in a variety of scents, you have the coffee-scented one. How
do you like it?" "It's not bad," she says [stupid stupid], "but I would
rather have just plain oxygen." "We'd be happy to do that, once we get to
the ambulance." So we get to the ambulance, hook her back up to real
oxygen (by this time my partner is out of breath), and are on our merry way
to the hospital.
A couple of days later, I get called into my supervisors office. Trouble.
"Tae, I got a call from a patient saying she got coffee-scented oxygen."
"Uh, how do you know it was my call?"
"When I get calls about coffee-scented oxygen, I _know_ it's got to involve
you."
"Okay, it was me, what she call to complain about?"
"Nothing, seems that the next time we go to pick her up, she wants coconut-
scented oxygen. How am I going to explain this?"
"That's why you're the supervisor."

Only got a verbal warning for that one.

--------
Tae-Hyong Kim st87...@pip.cc.brandeis.edu