A early twenties kid comes in from an MVC. He states he wasn't driving but there was no one else at the scene...that leaves you buddy. We ask him the obligatory "do you do drugs" question or in his case "what do you do?" He proceeds to list off an honestly quite impressive list. Shoots heroin 3-4 X a day. Takes 5 or 6 hydrocodone in a day. Mixes it up by snorting some cheese (heroin plus tylenol pm). I think there were some benzos in the bunch too (ativan, xanax, etc). You always ask a druggie where they shoot up because they know their veins much better than you and can usually point you to a good IV spot. It's a strange kind of role reversal...All in all, he hadn't been fully conscious in 3 years and was flunking out of community college. (The most heartbreaking part about that story was his younger brother, who no doubt looks up to his stoner brother, broke down crying at the bedside. Mom gave me a look that meant she already knew. She didn't even have to ask).
He starts complaining of pain so I give him one hydrocodone (the usual ordered dose). He literally scoffs at it and says he takes 4 or 5. Welp, sorry. You only get one. This isn't your own personal pharmacy. It's your fault you have the tolerance of a 400 pound pro wrestler.
He continues to whine (literally, it sounded like my younger sister when we were little and she was upset) and threatens to throw up. Oh goodness, you're going to puke?? What will I do?? I better give you twelve hydrocodone. Nope. Go ahead, vomit. You don't scare me.
Then he threatens diarrhea. Clearly, he doesn't understand that my JOB is to clean up CRAP. Do your worst. You'll be more uncomfortable than I will.
Finally he passes out and I hand him off. I don't mean to sound insensitive but people who do drugs are generally very manipulative and you have to put your foot down. Otherwise a girl like me gets taken for granted. taken for a ride. used. You get the picture.
My second prime example is a young gentleman who had a brain bleed. He was a chronic drug abuser with Turrets with his crazy boyfriend at the bedside. Talk about a triple threat. He just sat there yelling "ow, ow, ow, ow" over and over and everyone really did feel very bad for him. He took so much morphine at home that nothing we gave him would nullify or improve the pain. You had to feel sorry for him because he was cute but after a while I needed someone to push the off button (again, don't take me for an insensitive jerk).
These cases are not the anomalies. Sometimes our frequent flier drug abusers are well known to everyone in the ER, homeless, and have underlying psych issues. But I'm not stereotyping. Anyone can have a knee replacement, get a little too used to taking their codeine, and end up sneaking around breaking into their neighbors medicine cabinets or having fifteen primary doctors who ALL fill their Ativan prescription. It's all too common and all too frequent. So let's all learn a valuable lesson from this holiday season and say no to drugs! That public service message was useful. in 1984. I think the kids in those commercials are still wearing high tops and neon polyester jackets.
So to quote from a fellow crazie (because we all know it would just be rude to quote David at the Dentist), "hide your kids. Hide your wife. Cause there's a [drug abuser] in the neighborhood. Run and tell that".
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