So no, in reality I'm not angry all the time. In fact, I very rarely am. It takes a lot to get me angry.
Roscoe (not his real name™) got me angry. VERY fucking angry.
Some people don't talk much as they enter the trauma bay, and the reason for this is varied:
- Brain injury
- Intoxicated
- Asshole
- Scared of the police
- Deaf
"Hi there Doc, here we have Roscoe. He's 19, we think. That's the only thing he'd say to us, and he had no ID on him. He wrapped his car around a pole at around 100 kph (62 mph), we think. He isn't saying much, so we don't know if he has anything on board {"on board" is medic speak for "drugs/alcohol"}, and we also don't know if anything hurts. We haven't found much in the way of outward trauma. Have fun, Doc!"
I hated that medic just then, but I wasn't angry. Yet.
Roscoe looked like a healthy young man, he didn't smell of alcohol, and he barely had a scratch on him, just an abrasion or two on his left knee and elbow. All his limbs seemed to be intact, he didn't groan as I pushed on his chest or abdomen, and his back and neck appeared normal. The biggest problem I had to assess was his brain: was his lack of speech a product of a drug other than alcohol or did he have a brain injury? A CT scan should tell me quite quickly.
And it did - his brain appeared as normal as the rest of his exam.
However, this didn't answer my question fully. A CT scan will show a subdural haematoma, subarachnoid haemorrhage, or haemorrhagic cerebral contusion very nicely, but a concussion doesn't show up on any scan as it is purely a clinical diagnosis. I walked back to the trauma bay from radiology with my mind working frantically, trying to figure out what was going on from the information I had. And as I walked back into the trauma bay, the amount of information I had suddenly jumped up several notches: Roscoe was talking.
I overheard him tell the nurse in a very hushed voice that he had taken something that a friend of his had given him after they had smoked several joints. He wasn't sure what the pill was, all he knew was that it was round and white and made him sleepy . . . which explains why he fell asleep at the wheel.
I was annoyed, but still I wasn't quite angry.
Roscoe's mother showed up (with a little boy in tow) a short while later after his lab work had come back. It was all normal except for his urine tox screen, which was positive for marijuana and diazepam (Valium). Roscoe's mother was cooing over her son, obviously (and rightly) thankful he was uninjured. Her cooing quickly stopped when I told them about his tox screen.
"WHAT? YOU TOOK WHAT? WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THAT! YOU'RE ONLY 17 YEARS OLD! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED YOUR BROTHER! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING, ROSCOE!"
Wait, kill your younger brother? What?
It turns out Roscoe (who was only 17, not 19, not that that made a damned bit of difference) was on his way to pick up his 7-year-old brother from a birthday party but decided it would be a great idea to stop at a friend's house, smoke a few joints, and take a random pill just before getting back in the car.
NOW I was angry, and I was sure glad I wasn't the only one as Roscoe's mother continued her well-deserved tirade.
I get angry when innocent people are put in jeopardy because of the stupid decisions of others. Sure, Roscoe had put his own life on the line, but he had also endangered the life of his little brother as well as all the other people on the road around him.
Normally I try to calm family members down so they don't yell and disturb the other patients in the trauma bay and the rest of the department, but not this time. Nope, not a chance. I let Roscoe's mother give him the business as long as she wanted, and boy did she. I have no doubt whatsoever that this wasn't the last Roscoe would hear of it from her. She continued berating him as they left the trauma bay, the little boy still walking silently behind them.
Having proofread this post several times, I feel myself getting angry again. Does anybody know a homeopathic remedy I could use to calm me down?
Oh, never mind. I found one.