As you have probably guessed, this story definitely falls into that latter category.
I know I write a lot about gun violence, and it must seem to you that anyone around me can walk into a corner store, buy a gun of his or her choosing, and immediately start firing at everyone and everything for any goddamned reason. The truth is that it isn't nearly as common as I make it sound (fortunately). If it were, it would be like the OK Corral with bullets whizzing around my head constantly (I assume - I wasn't actually there despite how old my children think I am). Luckily reality isn't quite like that and guns aren't that easy to obtain. I just write about those stories more than the 84-year-old who fell off her toilet and bonked her head on the bathtub, because who the hell wants to read about that crap. I just re-read that last sentence and almost deleted it because it's so stupidly boring.
Oh, and before I go on and before anyone starts a pedantic comment regarding the title, I fully realise that "unvaluable" is not a real word. Unfortunately due to a remarkably stupid quirk in the English language, "invaluable" is actually a synonym of "valuable", much like "inflammable" means "flammable". There just is no good antonym. So I made one up. Sue me.
Now where was I? Ah right, guns and valuable lessons. That is where our story starts.
Nancy (not her real name™) was brought to me as a Level 1 (high level) trauma, and unlike many of my Level Ones who are unresponsive because they are drunk, she was a real Level 1.
- Right chest
- Right upper back
- Right upper arm (2)
- Left wrist (2)
- Back of neck (2)
|WE AIN'T FOUND SHIT!|
I somehow wonder why Aesop never wrote a fable about that little moral.
P.S. For any of you playing on the last post, the correct answer (not counting duplicates) was 20.