Okay, We Get It: YOU’RE YELLING.

My workroom in the ED is next to the triage area for the Fire-Rescue guys. When the ED is backed up, the stretchers pile up like a grocery store checkout lane with guys in blue buying the injured and the infirm.

Usually when this happens, it’s a straight forward annoyance of maneuvering around them to get to the workroom. But sometimes the people in the stretchers are singularly annoying. Such as the fellow who was brought in by Fire-Rescue and the Sheriff’s office.

‘I’M GOING TO KILL THE FUCKING CRACKER WHO FUCKING STABBED ME,’ he said, continuing on his rant for awhile.

‘Pipe down.’ I told him as I walked around his stretcher and into my room.

‘OH, I DON’T WANT TO KILL YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKERS. I WANT TO KILL THE FUCKING CRACKER THAT CUT ME,’

By that point I was trying to read the nursing notes in my chart, and he was rather distracting.

‘HOW WOULD YOUR FEEL IF YOU CAME HOME TO FIND YOUR WIFE BEING FUCKED BY SOME GODDAMN CRACK—’

And with that, I closed the very nice sound proof-ish door, and I continued my work in peace.