Call, and They Will Come

When you call 911 in my town, they drop their donuts and playing cards and send the police, the fire department, and an ambulance. I'm not kidding, and that's the order in which they came. Protocol, I found out. About nine men in various uniforms showed up and started filing in my studio apartment. I talked to them all, telling them all I wanted to know was should I take a Benadryl or use my Epi pen. I wanted to take off my shirt to show them my rash, but I hesitated. Who were the EMTs in the group?

One guy started taking my information, and I flashed him my belly so he could see what he was dealing with. He put up his hand and looked away, "Okay, you don't need to do that", he said. What the hell was he there for? Uptight New Englander!

I finally figured out that there were two EMTs, and one of them told the rest of the boys they could leave. There was a younger one and an older one, and the older one said he thought I should go to the hospital, because even as he was standing there, my ear was getting pinker and pinker, and he didn't want me to get worse and stop breathing. That's all it took; I said okay, and grabbed my coat.

In the hallway, I asked if I could curse. Older said sure, and I belted out, "That fucking nurse!", referring to the woman who had given me the injections. We got into the ambulance and went quietly, with no siren. Younger drove. I started cursing again, and apologized. They said it was fine, they heard it all the time. I made small talk with Older, and called a friend to say, "You'll never guess what I'm doing right now..." I realize now that I was in shock. We got to the ER of the hospital of my choice, and as I got out, I said, "This is the most fun I've had in weeks!" Older said, "You gotta get out more!"

They put me in a wheelchair, another protocol. Got my info, and Younger did something very strange. He took a tool that had a round pivoting ball on it, and rubbed it on my face, from my eye to my cheek. I asked him what that was for, and he said, "Temperature." Indeed, on the machine next to me, it registered 99. I wasn't with it enough to tell him that he should really tell people what he was doing before he massaged someone's face with a pastry implement. I just kept looking at my hands and my arms, which were very pink. I kept saying, "This is fascinating!" Shock.

They took me to a bed, and I met Young Nurse and Young Doctor. And I could teach them a thing or two about something called Bedside Manner 101.