Fight! Fight!

When a very tall, very broad man OD's and is extremely lethargic - NEVER trust him. He is not the nice sleepy little thing on the stretcher that he appears to be. Oh no. He is not. He is an evil monster waiting to burst off that thing with the speed and strength of a demon. And one very pissed off demon at that.

Mr. Joe arrived at the ER stating he took his entire bottle of anti-anxiety medication. 60 pills in all. Mr. Joe was very sleepy. Mr. Joe laid down on the stretcher, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. Mr. Joe was full of shit.

Approximately 30 minutes later, after we stuck a tube in his nose, filled his stomach full of charcoal, and poked him twice with 2 large IV needles - Mr. Joe was pissed. He yanked out both his IV's (which proceeded to empty his body of what I swear was half of his blood volume) and his NG in 2 seconds flat. He came flying off the stretcher, bare ass in full view, and screamed "you ain't gonna kill me you mother fukka's!" and tried to punch the doctor.

The "Dr Strong" call immediately went out and 8 staff members descended on this poor unsuspecting soul. Mr Joe tried to escape through the door with blood running down his arms and charcoal coming out his nose. He did not want 8 very pissed off staff members touching him. He just wanted to go home, take the rest of his pills and blissfully go to heaven. Yes - we know this because he shouted it across the ER. The demented lady in the other curtain shouted out "Take me with you!"

"10 Mg Versed IM NOW" shouted Dr. Q while Mr. Joe was sinking his teeth into the paramedic's arm. Lucy and I threw ourselves across Mr. Joe's legs as the men got him back onto the stretcher. It took all 8 staff members to keep Mr. Joe on the stretcher. He was still bucking against us and actually lifted Lucy and I up off of the stretcher with his legs. Dr. Q was starting to get a little excited - "50 mg of ATivan IM now!" "Um, Dr. Q," I said between being kicked and spit on, "I think that's a bit much." "Oh yes, yes you're right. How about 5 mg IM?" Yeah - that's better.

Poor Lucy - her eyes were as wide as saucers. "Such a young inexperienced thing-she must be scared," I was thinking - until I saw that Mr. Joe had a handful of her hair and was creating quite a bald patch on the back of her head. "GRAB HIS HAND!" I yelled to one of the other nurses. "GIVE THIS MAN SOMETHING TO PUT HIM TO SLEEP," yelled another. "Screw You!" shouted Mr. Joe.

Finally, the Versed and the Ativan kicked in. Mr. Joe's eyes rolled back in his head, a slow smile spread across his face, and his respiratory drive stopped. Now don't worry - we gave it back to him. A little baggin' and one ET tube later he had oxygen again. Sweat pouring down our faces, the staff looked at each other and started laughing. We got him positioned properly on the stretcher, pulled up the side rails and headed out to the ICU. As we were rolling out the door, the echo came from the next curtain "Take me with you!"