Wanda, and Foxxman were already in the room. Together they quickly hoisted Tyroneous’s limp body and tossed him onto the stretcher. His clothes were being cut off by Foxxman, while Wanda placed a blood pressure cuff on his arm, Debby checked for a pulse, and Trissy searched for a vein in which to start an IV. As soon as Rex entered the room, the unresponsive patient suddenly came to life! He began writhing in pain—a relatively good sign, considering the alternative of being pulseless and breathless.
“Where were you shot? Where were you shot?” Debby demanded as she quickly surveyed his body, finding no blood or bullet holes.
“Popeye’s,” Tyroneous uttered, with what appeared to be his last breath.
“Look here, Einstein! I ain’t the police, and I ain’t your mama. Where on your body did the bullet hit?” Debby asked very slowly and deliberately.
“Popeye’s,” Tyroneous responded again as he opened his eyes and looked around the room.
Everyone in the room appeared shocked. Their jaws dropped simultaneously in disbelief. Tyroneous was butt naked. Even his little drumstick was exposed, and the only visible trauma was a small abrasion on his abdomen.
“Let’s roll him and check his back,” Rex ordered.
“Hey, what you do-in’, man?” Tyroneous complained, resisting the emergency staff’s efforts.
“Just as I suspected: no evidence of any wounds,” Rex growled.
“I’ve been shot,” Tyroneous announced with a sense of pride.
“No Tyroneous, you weren’t,” Foxxman informed the young victim of a probable drug deal gone bad. Tyroneous immediately crossed his arms and pouted.
“I’m ready to shoot the scrawny bastard after all the theatrics!” Debby threatened before turning around and heading back to triage.
“Obviously the bullet didn’t have his name on it, or maybe it struck him in the head and bounced off,” Wanda concluded as she, Rex, and Trissy left the room in disgust.
“That sorry turkey buzzard!” Rex said as he sat down to write a note on Tyroneous’s chart. “Foxxman, get him a gown and let him sit in the hall while I finish his paperwork.”
“Will do.”
“Well, I ain’t eatin’ at Popeye’s again, that’s for damn sure!” Wanda confessed in a slow, Louisiana drawl, leaving everyone in the ER laughing uncontrollably. What a cast of characters. Trissy was a feisty nurse of German descent. She and Rex had been shacked up for several years before taking the plunge. Wanda was short and built like an Ewok, but you couldn’t let her stature fool you. She always told you exactly what she thought and never minced her words. Wanda was nicknamed “the Splint,” after insisting upon wearing food-speckled Velcro wrist splints throughout a recent pregnancy, and beyond. Rounding out the team was Terry Foxxman, a fifty-year-old Army medic and Vietnam veteran who always enjoyed telling war stories, usually centering around Mama-san and his escapades in the local social clubs. Anytime he was startled by a loud noise, “Flashback” Foxxman would wrap his hands around his head, squat down and yell, “Incoming!” These flashbacks seemed to come with increased frequency and severity as the fine line dividing reality from these vivid images of his past continued to blur.
Dr. Emanuel “Boom Boom” Whitherspoon had the odd-numbered rooms and had been so busy fighting his own battles during the day that he had not had the opportunity to shoot the breeze with his comrade-in-arms, Rrrrex. Boom Boom was a handsome fifty-year-old black man with salt and pepper hair and a mustache. He was meticulous in his dress and very methodical in the manner in which he managed his patients. His favorite form of relaxation was cruising the Caribbean with his wife. While onboard these large luxury liners, he could not help but notice the voluptuous young ladies strutting about in their thongs. Upon sharing these stories with his fellow staff members, his guidance proved inspiring. “Wear dark sunglasses,” he relayed with pride, “and never let your wife see your head move.” What especially caught his eye was the way their cheeks bounced while strutting about the deck, and, much to everyone’s delight, he was quite talented at reproducing that motion. Upon request he would smile, raise his chin high in the air, and move his head back and forth, as his wrists and hands moved rhythmically to the gluteal beat, all the while chanting in a sing-song voice, “Boom, baba boom, baba boom, baba boom.”
“Boom Boom, I feel as if our position has been overrun,” Rex declared to his mentor. “This has been the shift from hell! Just look at the toll it has taken on my nurses. It’s as if they’ve been on the Corregidor Death March.” Wanda and Trissy looked at Rex in disgust, the fatigue more than apparent on their faces.
“Bite me, Rrrrex!” Wanda declared without remorse. Trissy laughed, showing her appreciation for Wanda’s scud-missile response.
“Stay focused, Rrrrex, and don’t take it personally. ObamaCare is on the way,” Boom Boom responded with the wisdom of an ancient Asian warrior.
“ObamaCare is just going to make the situation worse!” Rex surmised, suddenly finding himself overcome by the need to vent.
“You know, this ER has become extremely dangerous, given the high volume and level of acuity. If it weren’t for the shortage of doctors, nurses, and techs, all would be well,” Rex shared with just a hint of sarcasm.
“No doubt,” Wanda replied.
“What in the Sam Hell is this hospital going to do when security in the United States is breached and terrorism returns to our shores? There will be mass casualities,” Rex complained, as the hours of frustration finally came to a boil.
“Stay focused, Rrrrex,” Boom Boom replied, while continuing to work.
“Stand back, Wanda! I’ve seen that look in Rrrrex’s eyes,” Trissy warned her close friend.
“I thought Carencrow Regional was out of control when those bastards from Colombia HCA owned the hospital, but since the greedy GeeHad gained control, this work environment has become unbearable,” Rex argued as his coworkers looked on, nodding in agreement.
“This ain’t been no magic carpet ride, that’s for damn sure!” Wanda felt compelled to add.
“I tell you, it’s a plot with the Wicked Witch of the South, Ms. Teresa Talon, RN, executing this hospital’s evil agenda. If her father had not been president of this hospital so many years ago, she would’ve never become the emergency room director of nursing,” Rex retorted.
“I must admit you have a good point, Rrrrex. She has absolutely no common sense, and I know for certain that she can’t even start an IV!” Wanda said, adding a little more fuel to the fire.
“That’s a fact,” Trissy contributed.
“That self-serving tyrant sits in her glass office all day, oblivious to what is going on in the ER. If she’s not busy criticizing those who work for her, she’s preoccupied with plotting the demise of anyone who appears to be a threat to her little dictatorship! Hell, she’s as dangerous as a great white shark, but as useless as tits on a bull!” Rex concluded.
“Stay focused Rrrrex,” Boom Boom said, although he chuckled, knowing that the facts were undeniable.
“Now let me get this straight. Are you proposing a mutiny?” Wanda asked as she placed her immobilized, splint-laden hands on her hips.
