Overhead at Triage:
20-something guy arrives via EMS for a penile fracture. (How he fractured his penis — well, it’s a story Not Suitable For Work, though suffice to say, it involves repeated dosing of beer and shots.) Granted, it’s a horridly painful injury, and a true urologic emergency: I guarantee all of my male readers are wincing and all of my female readers are snickering. However, our buddy is drunk and carrying on far, far beyond the call of duty, thrashing around and fluently and imaginatively cursing out the paramedics, the housekeeper, the nurses, the physicians, anyone, in fact, within earshot or seen from beery, bloodshot eyes. He’s not only an caterwauling idiot, but something much worse, a drunken, caterwauling idiot.
Triage listens to the (slightly ridiculous) story from EMS, listens to the continuous, matchless bellowing on the EMS stretcher, and pronounces her verdict:
“Clearly,” she says, “A brain injury.”