“M – HIGH BG” reads the notes on the MDT. The address takes us to an inpatient alcohol rehab clinic in an outlying area of the county. Think Betty Ford Clinic, without the money or celebrities, and with country music.
I’m working with Joe again.
Sure enough, this dude has high blood sugar. So high, that the glucometer says “HI.” I say “hello” back to it, but it doesn’t reply.
This guy is a known insulin-dependent diabetic, and for some reason, the nurse behind the counter isn’t allowed to give him insulin unless she has an actual, numerical, reading.
The patient, myself, Joe, and the 3 dudes from the fire engine all realize how silly this is.
“He isn’t discharged, so one of our staff members will have to ride with you” informs the lady with her butt glued to the office chair.
“Okay, that’s no problem” Joe replies, uncharacteristically chipper. His caffiene intake is significantly higher than the last time we worked together.
We wheel the sugary sufferer to the ambulance and begin to load him up.
“You can go ahead and have a seat in the front, I’ll be there in just a few minutes” says Joe to the gentleman that is apparently accompanying the patient. “Just make sure to buckle up.”
“I have to ride in the back with him” is the reply.
“I’m sorry, but you will have to ride up front.”
“Our facility’s policy is that I ride in the back of the ambulance with him to the hospital.”
“Well, our company’s policy is that riders are welcome to ride, as long as they ride up front, with their seatbelt on.”
“But I have to be in the back.”
Joe is getting either mildly irritated or mildly entertained, I’m not sure which. “Look, dude: you can either ride up front with me, or watch us drive away. You ain’t ridin’ in back, dude.”
Next thing I know, Joe and the rider are both up front, and Joe is playing Zydeco music on the way to the hospital. I think three people were introduced to Zydeco music that day.