Love is a beautiful thing...
The other night we had two junkies brought in by separate EHS crews for minor injuries, both strung-out on heroine and meth. Greasy haired, missing teeth, barely clothed. They were positioned on adjacent stretchers at Triage and over the course of the evening decided they were madly in love, and got it into their heads to run away together.
They snuck out the paramedics entrance as a crew was leaving, and luckily one of the security guards saw them as they made their bid for freedom. He found them around the side of the building going at it like rabbits; which, I also had the pleasure of seeing as I was just coming back from my break.
It is an image of flailing arms and saggy naked bums that will be seared into my skull for the rest of my waking life, and probably in the after-life as well.
They clung to each other desperately as the security guards pulled them apart, shouting vows of eternal fidelity and loyalty as they were dragged back inside.
This time the Triage nurse was sure to position them on different stretchers; although, this didn't stop them from professing their undying love at the top of their lungs for the rest of my shift; which was oddly touching in its own way.
Love takes many forms, and far be it from me to judge. Maybe they will end up blissfully happy in a little log cabin somewhere...she will bake pies, he will chop wood for the fire, and they will have six kids whose names all start with the letter P and the whole brood will live happily ever after?
Then again, maybe that's just the romantic in me talking?
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