Uh oh
Partying again tonight. Birthday for one of the coolest girls I know, which should be a good time. GIII turned me down for a date, though with good reason; she's got two birthdays in her own crowd to celebrate. Still, I'd like a date, and I'd like it to be her. Sometimes I really think I'm the biggest girl on Earth.
I'd also like to just go ahead and thank my friend Alex for starting my day out right. Nothing puts me in a good mood faster than waking up to a message from a friend that says "I just woke up naked in Hillsborough." I wasn't the only one having a good time last night.
Now, to keep this thing relatively on topic, I think I've decided it's time for one of the famous stories. Here, in all it's glory, is "Chris gets his ass kicked by a 15 year old girl"
I'm working in Cary, and it's a nice, slow Sunday. Normally, I'm not a fan of slow days, but I'd worked the night before too, and it had been a long week. For once, I'm totally content to lie around on the couch and relax. Turns out, this is just what the irony gods who rule all portions of EMS were looking for. The tones go off, and we're dispatched to an unconscious person just down the road.
3 minutes later, we arrive on scene to find this mom standing at the front door. She tells me that she can't get her daughter to answer her questions correctly and can't figure out what's going on. She doesn't have any kind of medical history, and there's no reason for her to be acting this way.
When we get back to the girl's bedroom, she's lying on her bed with a really strange look on her face, and a friend is sitting down at the foot of the bed. My partner starts talking to mom out in the hallway, and I try to get this girl to talk to me. She's awake, and she'll respond to me, but there's definintely something weird about the way she's talking, and the way she's acting. Everytime she looks at me it's like she's looking at something purple with 3 horns. Now I'm not the most attractive guy on Earth, but I rarely get that kind of reaction from people.
I try talking to the friend, but she's not able (or willing) to tell me anything. We check out all the usual causes for this kind of behavior, but nothing's checking out. The friend and mom both deny any drug use, and there's no alcohol smell to her. (Trust me. Do this job for a while, and you can smell booze. If you've sipped a beer in the last 3 hours, I'll know.) Her blood sugar is fine, and I'm beginning to think this girl is just weird, or full of it.
So we load her in the truck, and head down the road to the hospital. I'm in the back with this girl, and my partner is driving. While we're on the way, I ask the girl if she's hurting anywhere. This is a pretty standard, bullshit way of reassessing someone, and acting like you're doing something for them when you really aren't.
Unfortunately, this triggers this girl into ass-kicking mode. She screeches (literally screeches) "I'm hurting YOU!" and lunges off the stretcher at me. I still don't know how she got the seatbelt undone.
Now the rule when you're fighting a patient is that you don't want to hurt them. You're to use necessary force to restrain them to keep them from hurting themselves, or you. So I'm thinking "Okay, grab her arms, and hold her down until your partner can get back her and help you tie her down."
Ha.
This girl is 15 years old, maybe 5'4", a buck ten, maybe. I'm 6'6", 205. I grab this girl's arms, and realize that I'm in trouble. The worst kind. She immediately pulls away, and manages to leave 4 scratches down the side of my neck. Continuing along my plan of how best to handle this, I put my knee in her chest and try to hold her down. She, no lie, put her hands on my hips and pushed, and I went flying. Nailed the back doors, and saw stars. When I can see straight again, she's after me in a big way, and I'm now scared.
I manage to basically pitch myself on top of her, and at least keep her contained in the back of the truck until my partner manages to make it around back. While he grabs the restraints (and tries not to laugh at my predicament) this girl is literally bucking up and down, yelling things in a language neither of us understands, and generally making my life miserable. We finally manage to tie her down, and the second the last restraint is in place, the police finally arrive. Nothing like Cary's finest to really make me feel safe.
While we're still at the hospital this sweet-young-girl-turned-raving-lunatic's toxicology screen comes back, and we find out the truth: PCP. Remember when I said she was looking at me like I was purple and had 3 horns? Turns out I really did look that way to her.
Mommy's little angel decided to try a little angel dust, and was feeling NO pain in the middle of our little apocalyptic battle in the back of the truck. Wish I could say the same thing. I was sore for days.
I'd also like to just go ahead and thank my friend Alex for starting my day out right. Nothing puts me in a good mood faster than waking up to a message from a friend that says "I just woke up naked in Hillsborough." I wasn't the only one having a good time last night.
Now, to keep this thing relatively on topic, I think I've decided it's time for one of the famous stories. Here, in all it's glory, is "Chris gets his ass kicked by a 15 year old girl"
I'm working in Cary, and it's a nice, slow Sunday. Normally, I'm not a fan of slow days, but I'd worked the night before too, and it had been a long week. For once, I'm totally content to lie around on the couch and relax. Turns out, this is just what the irony gods who rule all portions of EMS were looking for. The tones go off, and we're dispatched to an unconscious person just down the road.
3 minutes later, we arrive on scene to find this mom standing at the front door. She tells me that she can't get her daughter to answer her questions correctly and can't figure out what's going on. She doesn't have any kind of medical history, and there's no reason for her to be acting this way.
When we get back to the girl's bedroom, she's lying on her bed with a really strange look on her face, and a friend is sitting down at the foot of the bed. My partner starts talking to mom out in the hallway, and I try to get this girl to talk to me. She's awake, and she'll respond to me, but there's definintely something weird about the way she's talking, and the way she's acting. Everytime she looks at me it's like she's looking at something purple with 3 horns. Now I'm not the most attractive guy on Earth, but I rarely get that kind of reaction from people.
I try talking to the friend, but she's not able (or willing) to tell me anything. We check out all the usual causes for this kind of behavior, but nothing's checking out. The friend and mom both deny any drug use, and there's no alcohol smell to her. (Trust me. Do this job for a while, and you can smell booze. If you've sipped a beer in the last 3 hours, I'll know.) Her blood sugar is fine, and I'm beginning to think this girl is just weird, or full of it.
So we load her in the truck, and head down the road to the hospital. I'm in the back with this girl, and my partner is driving. While we're on the way, I ask the girl if she's hurting anywhere. This is a pretty standard, bullshit way of reassessing someone, and acting like you're doing something for them when you really aren't.
Unfortunately, this triggers this girl into ass-kicking mode. She screeches (literally screeches) "I'm hurting YOU!" and lunges off the stretcher at me. I still don't know how she got the seatbelt undone.
Now the rule when you're fighting a patient is that you don't want to hurt them. You're to use necessary force to restrain them to keep them from hurting themselves, or you. So I'm thinking "Okay, grab her arms, and hold her down until your partner can get back her and help you tie her down."
Ha.
This girl is 15 years old, maybe 5'4", a buck ten, maybe. I'm 6'6", 205. I grab this girl's arms, and realize that I'm in trouble. The worst kind. She immediately pulls away, and manages to leave 4 scratches down the side of my neck. Continuing along my plan of how best to handle this, I put my knee in her chest and try to hold her down. She, no lie, put her hands on my hips and pushed, and I went flying. Nailed the back doors, and saw stars. When I can see straight again, she's after me in a big way, and I'm now scared.
I manage to basically pitch myself on top of her, and at least keep her contained in the back of the truck until my partner manages to make it around back. While he grabs the restraints (and tries not to laugh at my predicament) this girl is literally bucking up and down, yelling things in a language neither of us understands, and generally making my life miserable. We finally manage to tie her down, and the second the last restraint is in place, the police finally arrive. Nothing like Cary's finest to really make me feel safe.
While we're still at the hospital this sweet-young-girl-turned-raving-lunatic's toxicology screen comes back, and we find out the truth: PCP. Remember when I said she was looking at me like I was purple and had 3 horns? Turns out I really did look that way to her.
Mommy's little angel decided to try a little angel dust, and was feeling NO pain in the middle of our little apocalyptic battle in the back of the truck. Wish I could say the same thing. I was sore for days.
posted by C at 1:40 PM
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