“20 year old male. Woke up with back pain” says the dispatcher, a little too chipper for so early in the morning.
“That’s funny.” says Slimm. “I woke up with back pain this morning, too.”
Map books and GPS aren’t needed on this call. It’s a familiar area, full of delightful, contributing members of society.
You know, the ones who live off of productive people.
“You know what I did after I woke up this morning with back pain?” asks Slimm.
“I went to work.”
I guess that explains his presence next to me. Come to think of it, I think I feel a twinge in my lumbar area as well.
We arrive on scene quickly, and see the fire department waiting for us at the front of the apartment building which is supposed to contain this alleged patient. All four firemen are standing out side the building. I think I notice one of them cutting his fingernails.
“Hey, where’s the patient?”
“Looking for his keys” is the reply, as an obviously not-in-distress guy comes bounding out of a crappy apartment, walking right past the four firemen and two ambulance drivers technicians.
Walking straight to his car to obviously retrieve something of dire importance. More important than any other resident of this community. And obviously more important than my cup of coffee I left back at the station.
Damn. I needed that coffee.
“What’s going on today, sir?”
“My back hurts.”
No shit. “What can we do for you?”
“I need to go to Local Hospital so they can refill my oxycodone.”
“Ummmmm.” comes the reply from Slimm. “We are happy to take you there, but they aren’t going to refill your prescription. You are going to need to see your doctor for that.”
“No, they will refill it. They have to, since I’m in so much pain. I threw my back out a few months ago lifting weights at school”
Right. As if “lifting weights” is some sort of other language for “lifting a bong from my coffee table.”
Sure enough, we don’t even make it into the assigned room when Dr. VonAccent walks up to inquire as to the life-threatening nature of the patient’s illness.
“No, sir. We do not refill prescriptions written by other doctors here. You need to see your primary care physician.”
“But I am hurting!” comes the reply from the douchebag terribly ill young man on my stretcher.
I don’t think Mr. Thrownoutback even made it to a hospital bed before being escorted out by security. It’s a shame when patients are leaving the hospital before the ambulance crews.
He was last seen asking a taxi driver for a ride to the Methodist hospital.