Day One
10 years ago, I was in between career paths and I got a job in a hospital as a telemonitor. I was responsible for monitoring heart rhythms all night and looking for signs of heart attacks or problems. During orientation, they told us that if they paged “Dr. Strong” to a specific part of the hospital, that meant a patient was being combative.
Being that it was a small rural hospital, each floor would have to send two employees to attend the call. On my first day, a “Dr. Strong” was called overhead and my new coworkers thought “dive in head first” was the way to go. So they sent me to deal with it. Now, after years at that place, I’ve attended thousands of those calls.
Sometimes they are nothing, and sometimes it’s like Fight Club at work…but the very first one I ever took was so insane, I’ll never forget it. Me and my co-worker, a CNA named Shawn, were headed down to the ER when a scrappy woman who was clearly addicted to substances decided to go into one of the trauma rooms and rip the morphine line directly out of what I can only describe as a giant Valkyrie of a woman.
She then shoved the needle into her own arm, hoping to get her “fix”. Well, Valkyrie was not pleased to wake up that way. She saw what was happening, stood up, and took all the staff by surprise with her next move—she just started beating the ever-loving heck out of the woman. But the addict was not going to go down without a fight.
She clambered onto her back like a spider monkey and started wailing on the back of her head like it was a speed bag. Both of them had blood all over them, from the ripped-out IVs and punches to the face. Valkyrie had a black eye and cut lip, but the addict’s eyes were both swollen shut from the beating by the time we pried them off each other.
We restrained them, called 9-1-1, and gave our statements. Day 1 of my healthcare journey.