Emergency Room

I work in the ER of a raggedy suburban community consisting primarily of old wheezy people, old fat people, young fat people, and people who don’t work but own cell phones. The ER is an interesting place. Believe me, it’s not like it is on TV. Not only is it generally the first place people enter into the “healthcare system”, but it’s a catch-all for all the loser patients the doctors don’t want to deal with anymore. I imagine the conversation usually goes something like this:

Mrs Painindarear: “Doctor, you know that big toe of mine that’s always acting up? Well, it’s acting up again. It’s this weather! Oh, the gout is terrible, just terrible. What? No, that’s not why I want to see you; I want to come in because I can’t breathe. Yeah, it’s been two weeks now and I can’t breathe. What? Why didn’t I call you, well it was Thanksgiving for heaven’s sake, my sister’s in town and I had to take her to the Broadway market. What? Go to the Emergency Room? Alright Doctor.” Click.

Or something like this:

Mr Canttakashit: “Doc, ya listen I can’t shit. Naw it’s been two months now and I can’t shit. Ya I took alla dat stuff and I still can’t shit. What? Go to the Emergency Room? Alright Doc.” Click.

Or something like this:

Ms Druggseeka: “Yes, Is this the Doctor? Yes, well doctor, I need ta get in to see you because I need another script for…What? Oh, that bottle of pills were stolen right outta my car, and I really have a lotta pain now and…what? Go to the Emergency Room? Alrighty.” Click.

Yeah. That’s why we have these little codes we use to describe the problem people come in with. We have the usual CP for “chest pain”, SOB for (what? No! This is a family blog site fer Christ sake!) - SOB for “shortness of breath”, MS for “musculoskeletal complaint”, etc. But then we have a few Special codes for those Special people.
We have PSY for “psychotic”, NHS for “nursing home special”, TMPTC for “too many problems to count”, FDGB for “fell down go boom” for the oldsters and FDDGB for “fell down drunk go boom” for the youngins and, of course, there’s the dreaded FOP for “full of poop”. But once those day shift snitchers….Er, I mean personnel, leave we have our own special favorite codes we people of the night shift mentality like to use. I like DSLLFS for “drug seeking loser looking for script”, there’s also DAWSO for “dumb ass with sharp object”, but really my personal favorite is FWBOWWK for “fat white bitch on welfare with kids”. This is the special code for all the people who have no job but lots of bling, cell phone De-luxe and a pimple on their ass that just HAS to be seen at 10:30 on Sunday night in the ER. Believe me, it’s not like it is on TV.

SUV Names

Did ya ever notice the names plastered on the rear ends of those huge gas-guzzling pig mobiles known as SUV’s? A recent perusal of the parking lot revealed some mighty interesting monikers:

Explorer; Blazer; Trailblazer; Outback; Odessey; Voyager; Windstar; Mountaineer; Caravan.

Boy, have the marketers got the number of the American people or what? It’s like everyone has Teddy Roosevelt fever. That need to charge right on up the hill, yelling “Bully, bully” wearing our pith helmets and with the faint refrain of Bungalow Bill playing in the background. So, not only do we not travel the High Plains with our Caravan’s, Blazer’s or Trailblazers, but we also don’t navigate up the Mountains with our Mountaineer. We don’t forage new territory with our Explorer’s or our Voyager’s or our Outback’s, and lastly, we don’t navigate the final frontier with our Windstar’s or our Odessey’s either.

No, all we do is suck up gas, block the view for anyone who’s not in a semi-truck or bus, and contribute to the coffers of the men who are tightening the noose around our collective necks. I’m not a fan as you can tell. I can’t see what difference a few cubic square feet makes when yer hauling the little darlings around town to go to the Mall or their Soccer game. The truth is, no matter how much space they have the little bas…Er, I mean, the children, are going to fight like rabid dogs anyway. And what really frosts my cookie, is I always see ONE LONE DRIVER in the gaddam vehicle. Come on people! Squeeze yer fat ass into a compact fer cryin out loud! Better yet, walk! Cripe sakes, we’re all too fat and lazy anyway. Oh, sorry, a little bit of Archie just popped out. Ok, we can’t walk, but we really don’t need to continue to contribute to this Petroleum Hell do we? I mean, chances are any one reading this blog, or blogging away themselves isn’t getting a portion of the pie. In fact we are the one’s dangling off the bottom of that rope that’s getting snug around the neck. (That ain’t a necktie people) The bloodsucking bastards can flip the switch off anytime they want, and we will all be begging for mercy. I don’t know about you all, but up north here after Katrina did her hoochie coochie dance on New Orlean’s the gas at the corner station shot up to $4.00 per gallon premium.
Two years ago the Bush administration said it wanted to get gasoline up around $3 per gallon. Hm-mm Katrina was a nice little excuse. And of course, once it’s at $4.00 lowering it to $3.00 looks like a bargoon - and no one complains too loud right?

But, it’s just my onion pi.

Call Waiting

I’m not a person who is too into gadgets and gizmo’s but technology has some cool things out there and for the most part I can make use of some telephone features that fit quite nicely into my anti-social personality; Caller ID being one of them. I really hate Call Waiting, but it comes “with the package”. The only reason they can sucker us with features such as “Call Waiting” is because they relentlessly play the “Emergency” card. “What if you’re just yakking away to some telemarketing fool while your child is being whisked off to the Emergency Room, or your Parent has fallen and can’t get up?” Rarely – if ever, is the all important interruption an emergency. In my case, being Italian and living (sigh) right next door to my Italian parents – “Edith and Archie” – the interruption is usually one of them. Now, my parents utilize my Call Waiting feature like this:

Scenario: I’m in the kitchen, usually poised in front of my refrigerator calendar, on the phone, with pencil in hand.

Me: “Yeah, uh-huh, Wednesday I’ll be at the gym in the morning, and I picked up an extra shift, but I don’t have to go in until 3 o’clock, I can meet ya at noon or we can (BEEP) another day (BEEP). I’m free on Th(BEEP)day. What? Oh, it’s my mother, the call waiting is beeping. No, I’ll call her back later. So, what do you think? Maybe we can do the bulk of the project at (BEEP) or we can get together here (BEEP). What? Oh, no, it’s just her again. Yeah, well, my parents don’t understand call waiting means “I’m on a call; you have to wait!” (laugh).

Stage Left: My father, Archie, bursting in the door looking like “it’s an emergency”.

Archie: Very loudly “Why the HELL haven’t you answered the PHONE!!!”

Me: Sometimes just as loud – depending on who’s on the phone and my mood that day “BECAUSE I’M ON IT!!!”

Archie: Very Loud and puffing “Yer MOTHER is trying to CALL you!!”

Me: Usually pretty loud at this point myself, and usually really pissed “I KNOW THAT! I’ll call her back WHEN I’M FINISHED!”

Stage Left: Archie exits. I continue my phone call; sometimes explaining, sometimes just not bothering to explain the obvious truths of my life to other people.

Me: “Ok, that sounds good. I’ll get everything started then we’ll meet Thursday morning and put it together. Great, see ya later.”

Me: Dialing Edith to see what the emergency is all about

Edith: “Hello”

Me: “What DO you WANT??”

Edith: Accusingly “You didn’t answer your phone!”

Me: “I KNOW!!! That’s because I WAS ON IT!! What do you WANT!!”

Edith: All miffed “The plumber called, he can’t come tonight. He’ll come tomorrow.”

Me: “Jesus Christ! Again?!”

Edith: Defensively “Well, he has to work late. He wanted to come, but he can’t. Are you going to be home tomorrow?”

Me: “No. That’s why I told him to come TODAY.”

Edith: Defensively, Miffedly and every other guilt laden adjective way she can sound “Well, I’m just telling you what he said that’s all.” Click.

Me: “Jesus Christ Almighty”

So, that’s how Call Waiting works in my house.

Not just ANY greed, it's Corporate Greed!

The subject today is greed. But not just any greed - corporate greed! I just LOVE the subject of corporate greed - talk about Science Fiction- corporate greed is so fantastical, so way-out there that it boggles the mind how they even think it up, much less do it. I had originally intended to write today's blog rant on Delphi. A company that keeps trying to break the UAW contracts in court because "it's broke", however they do happen to have just enough money to pay the top 486 executives a total of $87.9 million dollars in bonuses. (Now, why you would even WANT to give bonuses to a bunch of people who just ran your company into bankruptcy is beyond me - but it all boils down to...what's the word of the day??) Then I ran across a little ranty-type article by Paul B. Farrell of Marketwatch. It seems Paul is mad, mad as hell actually. And why is Paul so mad you say? Glad you asked! Paul is mad because Wall Street is GREEDY! Paul is mad that Wall Street's bonuses this year will range from a piddly $100,000 for 1st year brokers, to a diddly $6 million for the Big Boy's. Paul doesn't feel these bonuses are deserved because Wall Street has crapped out performance-wise. But the REAL lovely gem in the ranty-rant is that Paul wants to know why "we" aren't mad too? Now, I'm just going to tangent here for a minute. Bear with me. I have a special fondness for the word "we". Whenever I hear the word "we", I think of this little joke I heard once: One day the Lone Ranger and Tonto were riding along the dusty trail when suddenly up all around them on top of the canyon ledges above appeared Indians! They were surrounded! The Indians had their bows drawn and they were completely outnumbered twenty to one! The Lone Ranger turns to Tonto and says, "Tonto, I think we are in big trouble." and Tonto turns to him and says, "Who's WE, Kimosabee?". That's why I love the little word "we". So, with this story in mind, I say to myself, who's "we" Paul? I thought you might like to see my e-mail response to Mr. Farrell:

"Paul, Where have you been? The past Twenty years have been spent 1) Crippling the underpriveleged citizenry with welfare and other mind-spirit sapping freebies designed to keep them ignorant and passive 2) Gutting the middle-class by systematically shunting their jobs overseas, thereby keeping them scrambling so hard to earn a living they can't find their assholes in the dark with both hands and a flashlight and 3) Deluding the upper class with thoughts of mass riches beyond even their wildest greedy dreams - if they will just grease the wheels of the system a little with some cash. With the average CEO earning upwards of $12 million dollars a year, the average bimbo actress or thug sports player or gangsta rapper earning multi-millions for doing a little dance, throwing a ball or taking off their clothes, where exactly is the citizenry to start being "mad as hell"? They are too busy trying to keep from going under in a Republican money orgy that won't stop until we are either all speaking Chinese or that little old "class war" that everyone talks about every now and then actually does occur."

Geez, and I was all thrilled because I'm getting a $1.85 per hour raise in January.

Big Surprise

I found out two things yesterday. One, is that I WAS going to my sister-in-laws for Thanksgiving whether I wanted to or not, and Two, my younger brother has a blog site. Why those two things surprised me I'm not so sure. The sister-in-law thing is interesting because my sister-in-law is Chinese. My family, up until my brothers and I started mating, was 100% Italian. My parents were first generation Italian-Americans. My grandparents were all "off the boat". Anyway, let me tell you something - the Chinese are going to kick our asses all over the globe. The persistance of these people would put the Pilgrim's to shame. We're doomed. It's just a matter of time until they rule the world. The blog site was another matter. Why was I so surprised? I'm not so sure. My brothers are both "computer dudes". I'm not exactly sure what it is they do, but I know it has to do with computers. Still, I was always the opinionated one. Well, actually we are Italian, so we are ALL pretty opinionated...and at a volume a lot of the time. Yet still, I was always the MOST opinionated. Geez. If anyone should have a blog, it's me!!!! Dammit. So, with help from my brother I have decided to "share" all my rantings, I mean...well thought out opinions, with whomever is foolish enough or bored enough to read them, Er...that is whomever is thought provoked enough to graciously respond in kind to them.