Thursday, 31 October 2013


I realise I often preach about alcohol now, but before I fully understood its dangers, I admit that I had my fair share in college.  Fortunately I got it all out of my system by the time I graduated, and my consumption now is limited to a drink every now and then with my wife or friends.  But according to my college friends, I talk a lot when I drink.  A lot.  As in, "For fuck's sake, SHUT UP YOU GARRULOUS BASTARD!"  (Yes, my friends use words like "garrulous" in everyday conversation.)  Where was I?  Oh, right.  Anyway, there are various reactions to alcohol - some people get quiet, some dance on tables, some get stupid, some get sexual, and some get obnoxious. 

This next guy falls firmly and concretely into the last category. 

He was brought to me at 2PM.  The medics told me that a bartender had found him in his parking lot, unconscious, face down on the pavement in a pool of blood.  As soon as he hit the door I leaned over his head to get an initial impression of the situation and two things immediately struck me: 1) he obviously had a laceration on the back of his head that was bleeding profusely, and 2) he smelled like he had bathed in tequila.  Possibly rum.  Despite his obvious drunkeness I did what I always do and introduced myself and asked his name (all names have been changed to protect the stupid). 

"It's Tom Johnson, and FUCK YOU!" he spat at me. 

"Well that's not a nice way to talk to your doctor," I told him, trying my best not to pass out from the fumes being emitted from his mouth. 

"Wait, lemme see you," he slurred.  "No, you're not my fucking doctor.  Fuck you.  I'll kill you, you asshole."

Now I've been cursed at many times before, but this guy was about to take the prize for Most Profane Asshole.  Even the nurses were trying to talk him down. 

"Why are you cursing at me, sir?"  His behaviour was so preposterous I was on the verge of breaking down and laughing hysterically.  

"Oh just fuck off!"

After trying unsuccessfully for several minutes to explain that we were trying to help him, we decided to just complete our workup and (hopefully) get rid of him.  

Fortunately he had no serious injuries (though his blood alcohol level was nearly 4 times the legal limit), so I fixed his laceration and gave him several liters of IV fluid, and once he was sober his wife drove him home. 

I figured he was just another drunk, something we see every day.  But I found out later that he's a highly-respected lawyer.  Another busted assumption. 

If this is how he treats people who are trying to help him, I hate to think how he treats his enemies in court.  I hope I never end up on his bad side. 


  1. I love reading your blog!!!!!!!! You should make an app!

  2. Lawyers and drinks never seem to mix well.

  3. This is really off topic, but will you write about your medical view on if the Human Centipede is remotely possible?

    1. Don't do it, Doc, it's a trap!

    2. I'll answer it, but only because I don't detect any sarcasm. Here's your answer:


  4. Well, at least he was brought to you in the afternoon and not at 2 AM (when these kinds of things always seem to happen to you)!


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