Apparently we had a new record in our ER on Friday night.
.631
I know - I didn't believe it either. I thought the nurse was totally shitting me. An alcohol level of .631? "Whatever," I replied.
They ran the test 3 times just to be sure. They ran controls on the machine. It was correct.
I cannot even imagine living a life where you are still able to live and breathe at a .631. That means this man has built up a tolerance over the years to be able to be completely pickled and probably walks around at a .3 on a normal day. Scary, isn't it?
Then I stumbled upon this little gem surfing the net today. Holy crap. This is what our kids will face on the road as alcoholism becomes more rampant and people build a tolerance level that is insane.
Sigh..........
Showing posts with label drunk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drunk. Show all posts
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Marriage Proposals
Bill comes in frequently to our ER. He likes his whiskey. He likes it a lot. What he doesn't like so much is getting a visit from our local law enforcement when he's above a .234. He doesn't like that at all.
Bill usually arrives with multiple cuts, abrasions, bruises, and occasionally a broken bone or two. He may even have some taser marks in his back. Bill is not so nice to the cops.
But he loooooooooves me. He never remembers me, but he certainly falls in love with me every time he comes to the ER.
"Will you marry meeeeeeeee?" he asks.
"Now Bill, you know I can't do that. What would all my other boyfriends say? They'd be so angry with you."
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze?"
"No Bill."
"How come I've never seen you before? Are you new here?" he asks.
"Bill you see me every couple of months."
"I do?"
"Yup," I reply as I apply the B/P cuff and start cleaning up his cuts.
"Are you sure? I'm certain I've never seen you before. I'd remember those pretty eyes." He always reaches for my........um.......hands at about this time. I do a little 2 step with a samba flair to the side of stretcher and get out of his reach.
"Bill - keep your hands to yourself. I need to get you cleaned up."
"Okay. But will you marry me? Pretty please?"
This is about the time he vomits. Usually on my shoes. Eventually I'll get my timing down on that one too.
Bill usually arrives with multiple cuts, abrasions, bruises, and occasionally a broken bone or two. He may even have some taser marks in his back. Bill is not so nice to the cops.
But he loooooooooves me. He never remembers me, but he certainly falls in love with me every time he comes to the ER.
"Will you marry meeeeeeeee?" he asks.
"Now Bill, you know I can't do that. What would all my other boyfriends say? They'd be so angry with you."
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze?"
"No Bill."
"How come I've never seen you before? Are you new here?" he asks.
"Bill you see me every couple of months."
"I do?"
"Yup," I reply as I apply the B/P cuff and start cleaning up his cuts.
"Are you sure? I'm certain I've never seen you before. I'd remember those pretty eyes." He always reaches for my........um.......hands at about this time. I do a little 2 step with a samba flair to the side of stretcher and get out of his reach.
"Bill - keep your hands to yourself. I need to get you cleaned up."
"Okay. But will you marry me? Pretty please?"
This is about the time he vomits. Usually on my shoes. Eventually I'll get my timing down on that one too.
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