During my internship at the same hospital, a rather slovenly woman came to be treated for a sore throat. She was obese and her clothing was filthy and stained. She smelled and needed a bath. The thing that made her stand out was her unusual appearance. Her neck was covered in “hickeys”, (“sucker bites/ hickeys are the bruised marks some people leave while kissing and making love.)

The doctor examined her throat and wrote a few prescriptions. When the woman left, he came over to us and asked. “What were those marks on her neck? I almost asked her what they were. Did someone hurt her?”

We had to smile. I tried to be delicate as I could when I explained what they were. “Sometime in the heights of passion, one of the lovers will suck on the neck of the other, leaving those marks.”

He looked puzzled for a second and said, “But who could have heights of passion with her?” So much for me trying to be delicate.

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Another incident happened in the same emergency department. Several ambulances came in, one after the other. They brought us three boys who had crashed while riding two motored mini-bikes in the middle of a large field. Even though they had wide open space to ride, they had somehow managed to wreck into each other. They didn’t present with any life threatening injuries, but the emergency room soon became very confused. You see, each boy had a first and last name that could have been a first name. Names like Thomas Harvey or David Paul, or Charles Scott. Keeping the names straight became a true nightmare, with some people using first names and others their last. Every order had to triple checked. When radiology came to do x-rays, we had to be absolutely sure they were taking the right person. It was the same with the laboratory and as well as when any of them needed medicated. All of them had minor injuries and were treated and released.

We were all very glad when the last one was treated and sent out the door.