The dude, the drunkard and the asshole!

Half-past ten, Casualty Center, Hospital.

It was about time I creased the white apron, rested down the stethoscope, and bid a goodbye to the casualty duty for the day. 6 hours since the duty had commenced, some minor road accident casualties, a few heart patients, and two major emergency cases had been handled. It was my first day at Casualty, and it had been a satisfying day at work.

The Resident Doctor (Does it sound similar to The Resident Evil?? ) were about to change duties for the night. Yeah, the one who was to stay did ask me straight faced, 'So you're doing a night today?' 
Please say a yes. The excitement was barely conceadable.
'No Sir, I would retire for the day in few minutes from now.'
Bursted.
'By the way, you're an intern, right? What's your name?'
'Tele'
'What?'
'Tele as in Television'
'Ohk. Christian?'
'Tele, We have an influx. Come.', the R-2 called. 
R-2, the resident whom I had assisted the whole evening, was a pleasant doctor. Needless to say, the same sequence had taken place few hours before when I had joined duties, but seeing my no-nonsense-only-work attitude he had ceased hitting.

So, here we had: A head injury, A maniac, and A Road-Traffic Accident patient.
Triage.

The Dude!

Head Injury first. A 20 something old labourer, having a 10cm horizontal slit on his forehead, blood splattered over the face, conscious.
Examining him, we were sure he had a frontal fracture, and he would have had injured his brain too.
Suture him before the Referral.


'Stitch?? Doctor, Don't cut my hair.' the patient blurted.
'Dude!'
Well-being was rather secondary, for him, to his good-looks. *grins

The Drunkard !

The maniac was jumping and shouting in the trauma center, moving hitherto. The paramedic had been ready with the history. 
So, he was under acute intoxication with the so-asserted 'poisonous alcohol'. 
The newspapers had been full with reported sale of poisonous alcohol and deaths in the last 2 days. On suspicion of him having consumed it, he had been brought.

No symptoms detected, yet Gastric lavage had to be done.
He was comfortable now.
He-The Drunkard.

The RTA was a minor accident. Two men, one with a bruise, and one with a laceration on the right palm.
Standing in the MOT for stitching up the palm, I overheard a voice.
'Ya bastard, you left me there. Ya think ya saved your ass, do you? I'll open ya up once I get outta...'
'Excuse me, who's had the injury on palm?'
The one conversing stared at me, and entered.

The A**hole!

'Pllllleaaaase. Make it numb.'
He whimpered like a baby.

'What, One more stitch. Nooo.'

Bandaged, he left.
I overheard him, 'Am coming ya f**ker! Ya Asshole!'

Retired for the day!

Tele ;-)

Leaving you an interesting picture ;-) 

Cool Hair Cut!