XI

Today we will learn about the functioning of the Admission Room in hot weather, we will learn that the sick can be great dancers, and at the end there will be a story not entirely medical, but with ugly words ...;)

It was the worst shift of my life. Regardless of the severity and number of patients, the people who were exhausted by the heat simply acted strange and completely irrational. This concerned both the Health Service staff (the paramedics in ambulances had the worst - normally a great bow to them) and patients. I think this time there will be accusations of coloring or cheating - I'm not going to comment on that. Who has not experienced something like this, let the next time (in such heat) volunteer to help in the emergency room and taste hell ...

1. An Arab crashes into the Admission Room.

For a moment I thought it was a mirage, because an outfit straight from the desert, including such a checkered thing blowing on the neck and a headband supporting the whole thing. The nurse with him, all red in the face - by no means from the heat - explains a lot about the hardly stifled laughter by tears:

- "Doctor, this is Ayatollah Wisimulacha *. But I don't know what's wrong with him, because what he says ..."

The Arab takes a course at me with a threatening face and immediately gives a show of beautiful, verse Polish:

- "Doctor! I poop like a black ass"

In the heat I did not take advantage of it. It made me laugh. Through my tears, I see the surprised face of an Arab patient.

- "If it is so funny, I can do another lot right here and now !! So laugh together"

Are all Arabs terrorists ??

* - name changed, of course. But phonetically it sounded VERY similar.

2. I do not know where any child from a few years old comes from with a half-alive cat in his arms. The consolation is red and "burned" until shivers pass. A friend approaches her, talks to her and the child goes to the entire waiting room:

- "SAVE MY CAT !! IT'S HOT !!"

Ah, this unwavering faith in the Polish Health Service. Normally the hands are looking for a razor themselves….

3. Towards the evening, when the line of patients stabilized (ie stopped growing), I was hit by a ricochet from my typing on KM. A guy in his forties, politely waiting for his turn for almost two hours. When asked what's wrong with him, he begins to unwrap the bandage from his right forearm, saying:

- "Doctor, my wife accidentally (ah, I already believe it) stuck a fork in my hand. But I read on the internet how some doctor advised not to take large objects out of wounds, so I immediately came here"

I look speechless, in fact from under the bandage you can see a sticking bent fork sticking out flat along the arm, so to speak. Not even too much blood. The guy adds to my face.

- "And you know doctor, I thought such things hurt more"

On the tip of my tongue I would tell him that on less hot days, much more ...

4. It may not be related to the heat, but also to yesterday so….

A 22-year-old patient with the appearance of a model (you had to see the crowd of doctors crossing the room where the examination was located - of course, everyone for some urgent matter) admitted a few days ago due to a persistent cough from the so-called expectoration. Since the lung x-ray showed some kind of circular lesion - and this is almost unambiguously associated with lung cancer - she was referred for one of the most pleasant examinations, i.e. bronchoscopy (it's something like gastroscopy - only the tube is pushed into the trachea and bronchi). In this examination, a nodular lesion was found, and as it was with a fairly large inflammatory infiltrate, arched into the lumen of the bronchus like a huge polyp (it almost closed the lumen of the bronchus), so it was decided to remove the lesion. The whole thing, of course, in a neat glass, went for a histopathological examination, and after it was embedded in paraffin, fixed and other pleasant procedures, it was then cut to be viewed under a microscope and diagnosed what it was. Yesterday we got a description:

- "Potted remains of a domestic cockroach (Blatta orientalis)."

Don't ask how it got in ...

* * * * *

My favorite mate on duty is a man who approaches life a bit differently than most people. At times I have the impression that for him nothing is so impossible that it would not be possible to do it. Or at least say them.

We were on a visit today. In one of the rooms there is a patient, reaching seventy spring, pale, thin, dry, with coronary heart disease and diabetes. However, both of these diseases were not particularly severe, and even required only standard treatment. The problem was, however, the depression accompanying these diseases with neurosis, which manifested itself, inter alia, in tremors, very similar to the one occurring in Parkinson's disease (which we managed to exclude during the patient's stay in the ward). Tremors (even hand convulsions) appeared in states of emotional agitation. Interestingly, we observed in the patient that when she was very nervous, her legs were additionally trembled.

During the visit to the patient, we met the patient's spouse and her sister (also in early geriatric age). They were very happy when we informed the patient that she was coming home on Friday. The patient herself, however, was not particularly delighted with this fact, trying to convince us that she was very sick. Of course, there were tremors during the discussion. The patient's family, wanting to reassure her, began to say how wonderful it is that on Saturday the wedding of the patient's sister's daughter, how they will dance at the wedding, etc.

The patient cries, saying that she will neither make it to the hairdresser, nor have anything to wear on herself, nor will she finally dance in such a state (here she raised strongly twitching hands and slightly less twitching legs to indicate the reason) and that she would definitely not be having fun. The family looks at us with a pleading look, to which my favorite pal in a comforting tone:

- How can you not dance !? You have perfect conditions for break-dance !!

I love him for his optimism and comforting abilities .....

* * * * *

My duties are getting stranger and stranger lately. This time I became a guide around Krakow. All because of the arrival of a representative of a medical company (in short: Rep for Representative), who came to us to negotiate the sale of the Ultramodern Diagnostic Screening and Analyzing Device (in short: Super DUPA). So in the evening I went out to town with the Super Ass guy. A guest, as it turned out - the third generation of Polish war emigrants - with a fairly good understanding of Polish, unfortunately with a very bad expression in our language. So we decided that English would be a better platform for contacts. Soon it turned out that the guest is a pragmatist, and that he is definitely less interested in monuments and more in premises (my company gave me a great representative budget, so ...). So, after some deliberation, I chose a French place in the vicinity of the Main Square.

We sit down, get cards from the menu and five minutes to think.

Reflecting on the choice of Rep, who, due to his Polish roots, necessarily wanted to eat something regional (hence my choice of a French restaurant), he began to painstakingly and carefully inquire about the next dishes. As my mouth was dry quite quickly from the translation, I suggested that we might order a glass of wine before placing the order. So I ask the waiter, who quickly took a waiting pose at our table:

[J] - We'd like to ask for a glass of semi-dry wine before placing the actual order, what would you recommend?

[W] - We offer many wines. From seven to twenty-five zlotys for a glass.

We both goggled our eyes because we had never heard such a presentation of wines.

[J] - But we don't care about prices. We would like to know what brands you recommend.

[W] - Wait a minute, I'll go ask the head of the Hall….

With these words he walked away, and I was immediately asked if my companion understood the waiter correctly. Confirming and being ashamed of the representative of the restaurant, I caught with the corner of my ear the beginning of the conversation between the waiter and the boss, from whom I concluded that they were in a rather familiar atmosphere ("those two jerks there"). After a while he comes back to us and says:

- The Head of the Gym recommends for eleven fifty!

We managed to overturn this reputable French establishment by supporting one another. The brand and country of origin of the wine remained a semi-dry secret ...