A Letter to the Not Sick Man in Bed 1

Dear Mr. Not Sick Man in Bed 1;

I am sorry that you are having a rough day. I understand that it happens to all of us sometimes. Especially the part about running out of Lortab. I, too, am out of Lortab. The fact that I don't actually ever take Lortab is completely beside the point.

I appreciate the fact that you know that the words "chest pain" coming from your lips in the waiting room will get you straight back to a bed and force us to pay attention to you for at least the 15 minutes it requires to initiate the chest pain protocol. After all, you've been on this earth for 45 years, and it means a lot to me that you have learned these important things. Things like the fact that Morphine is an adequate substitute for Lortab, though I am so sorry that we had to poke that mean, mean IV catheter into your arm to give it to you.

I'll be happy to ask the Doctor for more pain medicine for you, just as soon as I'm done helping this lady in Bed 2. I am very sorry that she has interrupted your crisis today. I would put her in a different bed, so that you can rest a bit more comfortably as you wait in your Morphine-induced haze for your negative cardiac enzyme results to come back from the lab, but she needs to be in a cardiac bed, of which we have two, and of which you are occupying one. I know she doesn't appear to be sick to you, because she isn't flailing about and crying about her "terrible 12/10 chest pain", but that is simply because when I got her out of her husband's car just now, she was barely breathing. Her oxygen saturation is only 50%. And although her color may seem to be "normal old lady white" to you, I recognize it to be "truly sick patient gray".

I'm very sorry if we seem to be rushing around and not paying any attention to you, after all, you are having a very bad day. I realize that you need a cigarette. Indeed, you have been in that bed for almost 45 minutes. That's a long time to go without nicotine. I will address that as soon as possible. As soon as I have attached this mask with non-nicotinated oxygen to this patient. And attached these very large sticky patches to her chest. I understand that they are much bigger than the ones you got, but that's because we may have to shock her heart if it stops. It's only beating about 35 times a minute right now.

I'm sorry that the slamming of the drawers right by your head is so loud. These crash carts make a bit of noise when we're digging through them for Atropine. Perhaps you could write a letter to hospital administration requesting newer, quieter ones so that the next time you're in here requesting narcotics, our movements won't startle you.

I would be happy to bring you a glass of water. It will be a moment, though, because I need to finish this EKG. You remember that, don't you? That thing we did to you 30 minutes ago that said "Normal Sinus Rhythm" at the top? Hers says something just a little bit different, though. Think of it this way; you got an "A" on the test, she's currently getting an "F".

I apologize for not answering your questions quickly enough. You see, I couldn't hear you because of the stethoscope in my ears. I was trying to get a blood pressure on this patient because the machine can't find it. Oh, your blood pressure cuff is too tight? I'm so sorry. I'll fix that right away.

Yes, I realize that your girlfriend will be coming in to visit you later. But I'm going to borrow this chair for a little while anyway, because this gentleman is 85 years old, and he's not feeling so hot right now. I'd kinda like for him to sit down. Oh no, no, he's not having a bad day like yours. It's much different. He's watching the woman he's been married to for 67 years fight for her life. I don't think Lortab will help that.

Yes sir, I'd be happy to remind the Doctor that you need a note for work. Thank you for being so patient.