Sometime You Just Have to Push Back

There were several times in my past that I was at the end of my tolerance and pushed back. One time occurred while I was stationed in the in emergency department of the Naval Hospital, Orlando Florida. One task I always enjoyed was suturing cuts. I took extra care to cleanse and numb the laceration before I started. My claim to fame was that I rarely had to harness a child into a papoose board to sew them up. The papoose board is a contraption with Velcro bindings that holds the child while being sutured. It didn’t stop the kid from screaming. Much was because the child hated to be immobilized. If the child was old enough I could explain the procedure to them in simple terms and they knew what was happening. I could work without a problem.

I was suturing a child when a man said, “I’m Lieutenant so and I have a sick child that needs to be seen.” He entered the room and should have seen I was busy, then came farther into the room. When I stood up, my bloody gloves were under his nose and he stepped backwards. I took another step and backed him out of the room and into the hallway.  Responded by giving him my name and rank, then said, “I happen to be busy at the moment,” and kicked the door shut in his face. I was surprised that he didn’t file a complaint.

I was working in the emergency department at Frick Hospital when a man brought in his sick wife. We asked him to give the information for a chart while we took her back to an examination room. After taking her vital signs, we helped her get undressed so our physician would be able to examine her.

I just stepped out from behind the cubicle’s curtain when the husband accosted me. He asked “What had we done for his wife?” I explained exactly what we’d done and were getting the doctor to examine her. “In other words, you’ve done nothing,” he roared in my face, I noticed the strong smell of alcohol and his demeanor supported it.

I tried to direct him to the waiting room until his wife could be examined, “Sir, You’ll need to wait in the waiting area until she’s seen by the doctor.” He became more insistent and I told him to go to the waiting area or I would call the guard to escort him out. He acted more belligerent and I said, “Sir you’ve been drinking and if you don’t go to the waiting area I will call the police.”

He turned to the ward clerk and shouted, “I want that young man’s name!”

I stopped in my tracks and pushed my name tag under his nose saying, “It’s B-E-C-K, make sure you spell it right.” The guard arrived and escorted him out before it could escalate further.