To the fat, dirty dude with messed up teeth and a starving girlfriend (cousin?) who I saw at the Emergency department at Scarborough General Hospital a couple of weeks ago:
As you stood there, under the big sign that said "TRIAGE", loudly calling the nurse an "ignorant bitch" because she checked in the woman who looked to be near death before she checked in your girlfriend with a tummy ache, I wanted to suggest that you make a trip to the library to look up triage in the dictionary (because I just assumed that you don't have a dictionary at home). Then, I looked at you again and decided that the odds of you knowing where to find the local library were almost as slim as the odds of you knowing how to read.
Also, please do us all a big favour next time, and try to find a shirt that fits. Or if you only have ill-fitting shirts, maybe if you are going out into public, you could wear the one without mysterious stains all over the front of it.
Thankssomuch!
Llove,
Lloyd
Monday, May 21, 2007
An Open Letter
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1 comment:
Emergency Triage can be one of the scariest places ever - I like to stay in my bubble, where I don't have to rub shoulders with the drunk, obnoxious, barfing, bleeding, hallucinating nincompoops who frequent the joint. Sadly, and as you can attest, as the parent of a young child, one must make the trip a couple of times a year. You were right to say it in this post though, he sounds like a nasty sort!
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