Last night was another craptacular night at work…Some douchebag decided to steal a car, race throught the streets of the city I work in at such high rates of speed that law enforcement actually called off the chase, and then proceeded to ram said car head on into a van with 2 innocent men just trying to get the fuck home to their families.
The driver of the van was killed at the scene. Nice. The passenger, however, became my patient. HE actually seemed to be in pretty good condition (considering) when he got to me, no major broken bones, no parts missing, no head injury. Just discomfort in his chest, a bit of trouble breathing deeply, but airbag had deployed, and Xray showed both lungs were working. So, we’re all breathing a cautious sigh of relief, until we go to catscan.
Shitfuckityfuck. I’m sitting with my patient after CT, talking with him, and the ER MD comes running in, looking for the Trauma surgeon. Turns out he has a tear in his aorta right by his heart. Vitals are stable, but we need to get this guy to surgery NOW. THIS is why I work where I do, why I drive an hour and a half to get to work…if this patient had been in my hometown, he would have died. But, we have a Vascular Surgeon available, and off he goes. Then, I have to call his mother and explain to her that things have taken a bit of a turn and that she better get to the hospital…hate those phone calls, especially when they have to travel to get to us.
But, HE LIVED! Unlike his friend, who was murdered by a jackass on a joyride.
