"Klotz" As In "Blood"

A Testament to the Insidious Impact of Florida Sunshine on Brain Matter

Thursday, March 8, 2007

Intestinal Fortitude

Filed under: Sense & Sensuality — Steve @ 12:02 am

red_cross.gifOver the last 10 days I’ve spent altogether too much time interfacing with the so-called medical profession. Guido had another post-cancer surgery, I had to wrestle with a colonoscoper (we failed to consummate the relationship), and we both bit our dentist. This doesn’t include the visit to Dr. Kevorkian (our veterinarian) with Marra, our 19 year old cat with the leaky urethra.

But the strangest was a visit to the Hollywood Memorial Hospital emergency room, where I sat with a neighbor who asked me to take him because he figured he was probably dying or something.

He wasn’t. He’s fine now. That’s not the story.

We squat there, wrapped in sweatshirts and blankets to ward off the arctic atmosphere while the hilariously inefficient system processes the pox-ridden, spasmodic, mortally ill protoplasmic victims in line before us. One of these pitiful bastards, a fellow in his 50s or 60s, crouches in the corner groaning and clutching his guts. A thoughtful fellow, he has brought his own large gaily painted stockpot into which he loudly vomits everything from his tonsils to his toenails, pausing momentarily to collect his breath and bearings, before yakking again. And again. And again…..

“Oh jesus save my ass!” he bellows, submerged to his ears in his personal barf pot (PFP). “Aaaaarrrrghshhbrrtuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhmmrrrrph!”

The whole room cringes, even the bleeder behind us. This wretched soul has his entire forearm wrapped in a dripping bloody towel. He’s as pale as Casper’s ass from hemorrhaging, and it’s obvious the onset of his infection has left him about 2 lengths short of gangrene.

Meanwhile, Buffalo Barf hoists himself up and staggers to the men’s room to dump his fetid stew, only to return to his corner and repeat his rosaries. The horrid stench works its way through the refrigerated waiting room.

upchuck6.GIFEventually — we’re talking 2 hours already our arrival — hospital staff calls Ralph Upchuck to the intake desk.

“So what’s the problem?” asks an intern. I note his streaked white coat and festive, clown-colored doorag. “Are you taking any drugs?”

“No! No! I think it’s food poisoning!” he gasps. “Mother of Mary help me!”

They check his name against their records, hands over noses. “Weren’t you here two weeks ago?” asks the 450 pound receptionist. “We treated you for the same symptoms. We pumped your stomach clear of enough controlled substance content to knock Godzilla on his spiny ass!”

Ralph stops dribbling bile long enough to look guilty.

“Well?” prompts clown hat.

“Bad food!” he insists. “Same shit as before! I just didn’t eat everything last time and got hungry again!”

Stricken, my neighbor turns to me. “Get me the fuck outta here,” he says. “I’d rather die.”

We get up and go, stepping over the bleeder, who has finally passed out moaning, and lies prone on the floor. We get to my car, where, my boy scout training (“Be Prepared!”) comes to the rescue: a flask of tequila awaits us. Turns out that all he really needed to begin with –almost as much as I did.

Who needs health insurance? What we really fucking need is health care.

9 Responses to “Intestinal Fortitude”

  1. Skizzi Says:

    Hillary is going to solve Health Care.
    Oh wait that was when she was first beotch.
    Never mind Health Care isn’t on the platform anymore..move along, nothing to see here.

  2. Manola Blablablanik Says:

    I got sick not long ago and the doc told me to try to get someone to drive me to the ER at Doctor’s in Coral Gables instead of just the few blocks to Mount Sinai on Miami Beach. I stuck it out, thankfully and never had to go.

    The last time I was at Mount Sinai, a couple of years ago, there was a tranny in the waiting room. The attendant told me “s/he” would just come in to have a place to hang out …

    Hope you and Guido get well soon!

  3. Casper's Ass Says:

    Hey, I’ve been tanning lately. You’d be proud. Pass the tequila.

  4. the masspube Says:

    Give up your citizenship…go to Mexico, walk back across the border and, voila, you’ll be first in line next time you head to the ER.

    Or stay in Mexico and just drink Tequila.Drink enough and you won’t care if you’re sick.

    But in a combo of Mexican and American medicine regarding breast reconstruction…I hear Floriduh doctors are putting tequila worms on patients instead of nipples. Any truth to that?????

  5. Steve Says:

    Manola: Guido’s cancer surgery was at Mt Sinai, and the whole experience at the hands of the hospital staff has been one nightmare after another. A tranny — or Caspar’s ass — in the waiting room would have been a welcome relief.

  6. Rufus Leeking, M.D. Says:

    Most of the public, evidently including yourself, misunderstands the nature health care provision. Patients are to health care what cattle is to stockyards: a commodity to process in the service of a money-making enterprise. Hospitals exist to provide jobs for hospital workers, and locations for doctors to earn money for services. Insurance companies exist to make money from hospitals, doctors, and patients, not to ensure health care. It’s that simple, and it isn’t changing. You can trust me; I’m a doctor.

  7. PETA Says:

    Yeah yeah. How’s the cat?

  8. Garth Upchuck Says:

    That’s my brother Ralph you’re dissin,’ pretty boy. Watch your ass or we’ll puke on your doorstep and run.

  9. Dayngr Says:

    “Who needs health insurance? What we really fucking need is health care.”

    Good luck finding either in So. Fla. You have a better chance of finding tequila, plus it’ cheaper and will numb the pain.

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