A Hunk Of Burning Love

What is it about firemen that turn usually level-headed, mature women in to giggly school girls?? Is the the big red shiny truck? The uniforms? The whole 'hero" thing?

I don't know, but today we were graced with their brawny presence, and even the 50-year-old female doctors became flirty school girls.

It all started with a hysterical 17-year-old girl at Triage. I didn't get the full story but somehow she got an incredibly small ring stuck on her finger, which was rapidly beginning to take on the colour and dimensions of a tomato.

The nurses in Treatment attempted to locate our ring-cutter but to no avail. It seems like the sneaky little gnomes in OR like to steel our cutters and not give them back. When our charge nurse called to get them back they refused to give them up. As the girl was in increasing amounts on agony, time was of the essence. After trying to locate another set which was another exercise in futility, the only other option was to contact the fire department. After calling the non-emergency line and no one picking up. The charge nurse was forced to call 911, which was pretty funny listening to her explain our situation to the operator.

About ten minutes later three of the best-looking firemen I have ever seen strolled through the door. I'm sure they must all have been featured in last year's calendar! One of them was clutching the jaws-of-life and revving it full blast saying "so ladies, where's the finger??" with a big grin on his face.

Luckily the hysterical 17-year-old was in a room, or I'm sure she would have passed-out upon seeing the contraption. For those of you who may not be aware; the jaws-of-life are used to extract people from vehicles, not cutting off tiny rings.

Five minutes later they swagger back out, having cut off two rings, the girls, and some other gentleman who just happened to need his ring cut off as well. As they stepped out the brawniest of them turned around and joked " looks like you got two for the price of one, ladies. We'd be happy to help any time, you know where to find us" Seriously, I'm not kidding that's exactly what he said.

Then our attending blushed and giggled like a 13-year-old.

And that my friends is the story of the firemen, the ring cutter; and how you get female ER staff to swoon.

"Honey, I'm home".

Hello.

I don't know if you remember me, but I use to come here sometimes and blog about my life as an ER Clerk, but then I moved to Australia and took a job as something less exciting; henceforth no blog posts, but guess what? I'm back in the ER!!! So now exciting blog posts will resume again.

You are more than welcome to come along for the ride.

Mr. Sunshine

I came up with a name for him by my second day of work, "Mr Sunshine".

He's a tall man, I would gauge him to be at least 6"4 in his late 30's. His outfit of choice is a pair of running shorts, white sneakers and any assortment of t-shirts that have seen better days. He sports a shaved head, whether that is from chemo or by choice I don't know; his face swathed in a permanent five o'clock shadow.

Every patient that comes through our doors is bound to be having a tough time; going through the kind of struggle that I can't even fathom with my cancer-free body. The surprising thing is how friendly and jovial 99% of them are, it blows me away. They come up to my desk always ready with a joke, or quip, all smiles and hellos. Mr Sunshine draws a severe contrast.

You can feel the air change when he walks through the door, his posture hunched and angry, his eyes scrunched up in a permanent squint. He slams his booking card down on the counter and grunts, avoiding all eye contact if at all possible. I am lucky if he sticks around long enough for me to give him the time for his next appointment. Any communication he has is through hoarse whispers, and finger pointing.

I figured he must have laryngeal cancer or something to that effect. The strange thing is that his wife is lovely; a petite brunette with a willing smile and caring demeanor, any of his tainted interaction with the outside world seems to roll right off her.

The other day when I was checking him in, I took a closer look at his diagnosis, I was correct in guessing laryngeal cancer, I looked over to one of the other columns on my computer screen and saw the word, palliative. I guess if I found out I had in incurable cancer and was dying I would be angry too.

I still don't relish the thought of dealing with his sunny disposition on a daily basis, but at least I understand a bit better where it is coming from.