Chocolate Chip Cheesecake... with Nuts in the Crust: Stories from the ER, #1

By R.S. Christoff

How do you highlight just one comical story from the Emergency Room? You don't. Take for example, our patient in "I've got a Rumble in my Tummy". So there we all were, standing around at the nurse's station looking at the x-ray of an abdomen and pelvis, on the screen, and seeing what appeared to be two walnut-sized objects near the bottom of the patient's x-ray. Several of us wondered aloud as to how those objects got up there in the first place, but that wasn't important. Our thoughts focused on how those foreign bodies were in an odd place on the x-ray. That was, until the doctor moseyed up and drew out the outline of the object in its entirety. We all became speechless. Or, a sensitive patient in "Sly and the Three Ring Circus" was anything but the greatest show on earth for Sly. And, somehow I single-handedly got blamed for a volcanic eruption in Iceland, according to one Air Force Colonel. These and many more stories can be found in the pages of Chocolate Chip Cheesecake…

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.S. Christoff
• Release date: May 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201124410

R.S. Christoff

R.S.Chistoff is a pen name I have used for this (and subsequent books). Iserved twenty years in the Navy and Air Force. I am a retired military Emergency Nurse and Hospital Corpsman. I have traveled around the world, to include places stateside as well as overseas. As a Hospital Corpsman/EMT I worked in isolated locations around the world. My stories come from these experiences.

Book preview

Author's Acknowledgements and Disclaimer

I CAN HONESTLY SAY that I have never actually made a chocolate chip cheesecake, although I have made other varieties. And,... this book has absolutely nothing to do with chocolate chip cheesecake, or any other kind of cheesecake. Though, I have routinely used titles such as this in emails disseminated throughout the ranks in hopes that the subject-line would have everyone opening and reading their emails. It worked on many occasions until the group caught onto my little scheme and was disappointed when I wasn’t actually offering them any baked goodies.

This book is a work of fiction describing one insider’s perspective of actual events and experiences personally observed by the author. Additionally, this is a book about real Emergency Room patients. Some of the patients and their stories have been embellished on to add a little more colorful detail. Pulling from the author’s own ex­periences, I took some creative liberties with several of the stories, as I do not recall each and every detail of the events written. Names have been changed to maintain the anonymity of the individuals in­volved. Lastly, italics have been used to highlight sarcasm and bold italics have been used to indicate emphasis.

Chocolate Chip Cheesecake...

with Nuts in the Crust

Stories from the ER, Volume 1

A lot of good, supported with a sprinkling of craziness...

(A compilation of humorous anecdotes written by a former military ER Nurse)

By R.S. Christoff

Published by R.S. Christoff, 2021.

Introduction:

LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF. My name is Lila Tarankowski, and this book is the first in a series about my experiences in the various Emergency Rooms or clinics I worked while in the military. I do feel a need to preface this book by saying that it has absolutely nothing to do with chocolate chip cheesecake, although I have baked numerous other concoctions for my co-workers throughout the years. For those who know me (and somewhat like me) and for those who can’t help but to like me (have grudgingly come to adore my sense of humor over the years) all know that this has been my subtle way of getting people’s attention.

To further explain a little bit more about me, I have tried on numerous occasions throughout my life to curb my Sailor’s Mouth, still, it has been somewhat of a constant and daily challenge or struggle. Those who know me can attest to the little tidbit of information, that sometimes inappropriate words just seemed to slip out. Hopefully that explanation will assist my readers in deciphering some of the verbiage in this as well as subsequent books in this series.

The following pages contain mainly the humorous side of the Emergency Room as seen through the eyes of one night-shift Emergency Room nurse. Although not all of the stories are humorous, most have an entertaining facet. Working night shift in a military hospital ER has its perks. For starters, the opportunity to avoid the brass or higher-ups, or better known as management or administrators was one definite perk. I was sometimes known to call them neck breathers – usually to myself, or those close to me – as they seemed to be constantly looking over everyone’s shoulders to make sure their subordinates were doing what they said, when they said, and how they said. Additionally, those neck-breathers were usually right there, ready to reprimand, and maybe correct, just as soon as someone stepped out of line, or over the line and screwed up. Yet, they never seem to be around to offer praise when something good was actually achieved or a life was saved. Afterall, it was the ER staff ’s job to save someone’s life, right?

To survive on constant nights in an Emergency Room, with all the crap (sometimes literally) and even bullshit that had to be en­dured, the staff either found humor in other people’s suffering (usual­ly at the expense of the patient, without their knowledge, of course) or they’d risk going insane. In fact, I do have a couple of friends and prior coworkers currently residing at various State Mental Hotels (Hospitals) around the country – unfortunately, they just did not know how to laugh. Or, for those that haven’t gotten caught yet... they might just be walking around and/or working among the rest of the population, who really knows? For those of us that can laugh at the oddest of situations apparently have the same kind of warped sense of humor that many ER personnel I have worked with in the past possess. Those individuals will likely be able to save themselves from a lifetime of questioning their sanity.

Part I:

Drama: Life in the ER

The Drama

Talk to any ER nurse , and most will be able to tell you at least a dozen stories off the top of their heads. From the chapped lips, to the creepy-crawlies, to taking a dive into a cactus patch, or even the need for surgery to remove a splinter from someone’s foot. People often head to the Emergency Room considering it’s open, it’s convenient, they want a quick fix/miracle cure , or simply because they do not want to treat themselves or wait until morning and see their pri­mary care physician. We have seen patients at their worst, and even (presumably) the most asinine time in their lives. Patients that have accosted staff, dropped drawers in triage, the waiting room, or even just the middle of the ER, as well as the faked fainter, which seemed to be a common occurrence – allegedly to try to get seen quicker. (From my experience, I’ve never seen that to be a successful tactic to jump the line).

There have been many books written about ER patients. This series of stories/books, however, is an attempt to show the lighter side of the (mostly military) Emergency Rooms. Not all of the patients and their stories are comical. Some have true medical issues, of which not all are true emergencies in the sense that they are not a threat to life, limb, or eyesight, although some are possibly concerning. Nonetheless, they are presumably considered an emergency to the person experiencing the condition.

Welcome to the Fucking ER

Walk through the doors of most any Emergency Room in the world and the smell is recognizable. It’s usually a mix of fresh blood, dried blood, vomit, excrement (poop), mixed in with the antiseptic that was used in an attempt to cover up the offending odors (whether it’s bleach or another, similar product). Most of the time the potpourri of scents would be enough to make someone gag. Another aroma that may be discernable to some is that of body odor. Oftentimes that aroma can be quite pronounced when it came to anyone who has not had the benefit of a shower for some time. The offending smell may not necessarily emanate from the homeless population residing in the ER at any one time. The aroma could be from the unknown number of persons taking up residence in the waiting room for hours or even days waiting to be seen, or for a loved one to be seen. Or, the smell may very well have been from the staff who have been tasked to work a double shift without a break (or a shower) and have just had to deal with numerous traumas, which in the ER can sometimes be akin to a full-on work-out. Still, the stench could truly be from any number of homeless patients who have not had the opportunity to enjoy the luxury of a daily (or even weekly) shower or bath.

After a month of traveling cross-country visiting family and friends my family and I arrived to my next, and final, duty station before my anticipated retirement from the service. Upon arrival, and after getting as settled as possible in the transient (temporary) quarters/hotel, I entered the hospital via the ER waiting room. All decked out in my BDU’s (Battle Dress Uniform/Camouflage working uniform) around 2-3pm on a Friday afternoon, ready to in-process for this final chapter of my military career. Being at the end of my allotted leave and travel period, I did not want to waste more days of leave (and go in the hole – negative days) or be considered AWOL (Absence Without Leave). I could not afford to wait until Monday to check-in, as I was out of vacation days. In other words, I did not want to get into trouble for not showing up when I was supposed to,... again. Being in the military long enough, I, like many others, had learned well how to stretch out time off, until almost the very last minute, before the weekend, to achieve as much time off as possible (and not get charged leave – vacation time – for that time off ).

Doing it that way, showing up on a Friday afternoon, I figured it’d be too late to start any lengthy in-processing. The idea was to be that they would check me off of leave/travel/vacation status and send me home to our temporary accommodations, for the weekend. I would return bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, early on Monday morning to then begin the lengthy and monotonous in-processing regimen. (This was the Air Force and o-dark thirty was not in their vocabulary as far as I was aware.)

Hesitantly, I headed up to the check-in window in the ER waiting room, wondering how the next four years were going to pan out. Reflecting back to the huge Charlie Foxtrot at my last duty station, which just so happened to be my first Air Force duty station, after jumping ship from the Navy, I didn’t receive the best of receptions at that duty station either. That fact alone was somewhat telling as to what I should’ve been in for during my time there. But, that time was up and I made it through somewhat unscathed. To clarify for civilians not privy to military slang, Charlie Foxtrot is a huge freaking mess (a.k.a. Cluster Fuck). The pathetic attempt to desperately try and curb my slang (sailor’s mouth) did not work out so well for me, considering my sponsor all but flaked on me before we even arrived in state. Trying, trying, trying... the struggle was real. As stated previously, it wasn’t always easy, especially after being in the Navy for over a decade.

OKAY, SO BACK TO THE front desk in the Emergency Room.

Hi, I’m here to check in to the ER, I said to the tech at the front desk when they finally looked up at me from their computer screen.

I realized what I had just said when the young airman responded, Just fill out this paper and we’ll get you back shortly.

Damn, it was a long drive to get cross-country, and it took me a bit to realize that the tech thought I was actually checking into the Emergency Room as a patient, after all, that was what I said.

Oh,... That’s not what I meant. I am not here to check-in to the ER as a patient, I am here to check-in as a nurse. I will be working here, I corrected.

"Sorry, there’s no one around today. It’s a down day," was the response I received.

And... no, thank you for your assistance, I thought to myself. (Oh My God!!! No wait, make that What the Fuck?!?!?!?)

Alright, well let me talk with one of the nurses when one is available, I directed the technician.

I’ll let someone know, responded the young airman.

Today would be so nice... I again thought to myself as I realized they were extremely busy on that particular Friday afternoon, what with a completely empty waiting room and all. (Yes, complete sarcasm and frustration never go well together.)

Thanks! I muttered under my breath, more to myself than anyone else. Oh my God, that was so not working out the way I had planned. I then silently cussed out my sponsor many times over. All I could think at that moment was my stupid, incompetent sponsor. What an asinine fucking bitch (I was not even going to attempt curbing my language by that time)! If she had just kept in regular contact with me as I had requested, and even had given her a good contact number, then I wouldn’t have shown up on a freaking down day to try to in-process. I had sent her my cell phone number and email in which to contact me, if need be, during our thirty-some-day trip across country, visiting friends and family. I even told her when I was planning on in-processing so that she could possibly meet up with me. (Or, you know, let me know that that day would be a down day, and that no one would be around... hello..., freaking common sense here!!!) A hell lot of good that did! Ooooh, I was so furious that I longed for the day when I’d ultimately meet my sponsor face-to-face. It seemed as though all communication with her ceased once my husband and I started our cross-country trip.

To clarify, when transferring duty stations in the military, one has usually been able to request a sponsor whose main function was to show the incoming servicemember around the area. Additional duties of a sponsor were to assist with introductions, and possibly even let the incoming servicemember in on specific idiosyncrasies of the duty station. The benefit of knowing these little secrets, such as how things are really run, who to avoid, as well as where to go to in-process saves time on the running around bullshit so that the incoming servicemember would be able to start working sooner and leave the B.S. behind. Of course, everyone’s viewpoints are different, but this process has allowed the incoming servicemember the ability to gain somewhat of an insight into what they would be dealing with at their new job.

My sponsor had been really good keeping in contact with me, via email, prior to leaving my previous duty station/base. I had received emails, even long-winded ones, informing me somewhat of what to expect. Unfortunately, she neglected to tell me that the attempted harsh treatment of the FNG’s (Fucking New Guys/Gals – sailor speak) in the Emergency Room centered mainly around her and her posse. In the end, she got what was coming to her (and her posse) when I finally met her face to face about a month after I arrived. (Yep, I had been working in the ER for about a month before I even set eyes on my sponsor – the person that should’ve been one of the first people a service member meets when arriving at a new duty station.)

Julie

Fast-forwarding to one of my first shifts in the ER. (Nope, I still had yet to meet my sponsor). I was on orientation, to learn the ropes more so than to learn how to function as an ER nurse. Frankly, I could’ve run circles around most of the nurses I was working with at that time. But hey, with rank there are privileges and the higher the rank, of course the more they know... usually... about everything . Nevertheless, only a select few of the nurses I worked with were actually above me in rank.

About an hour into the shift, we got a call-bell alarm activated from the ladies’ room on the other side of the ER waiting room. That was no normal call bell alarm either. That was an alarm that could peel paint. It was that shrill! We all just kind of looked at each other and wondered what the fuck that noise was. Me, being the FNG, I had no idea where the noise was coming from. And, as most ER nurses could attest, bells and whistles and alarms usually become like white noise to most. Just like a crying baby. A sound that would almost certainly lull us to sleep.

Anyway, nobody was quite sure what to make of it. Eventually, someone finally realized what was making the noise. I think it might’ve even been one of the patients informing the front desk clerk that an alarm was ringing in the bathroom. A few of us headed out to the ladies’ room to see what the ruckus was about. Myself, another nurse, and two medical technicians entered the women’s restroom only to find an overweight thirty-something woman passed out in the handicapped stall, moaning very loudly! By that time, a crowd had formed, and was trickling out the door and into the waiting room. The next thing I heard from someone in the crowd was Oh, it’s just Julie; she passed out in the bathroom this time.

Trying not to laugh out loud, I thought, Holy crap! How fucking insensitive. Who would say such a thing? But, that comment did give me an insight into what I would be dealing with for the next four years of my life until I could retire (at last) and be done with the military. As time passed, I appreciated why the other personnel were so insensitive to the plight of that particular woman. I then realized that they were really no different than any other Emergency Room personnel I've worked with in the past. We’re all jaded, to an extent.

After some (make that a lot of ) maneuvering, we all were able to get Julie onto the gurney and across the waiting room to the back of the ER. Lo and behold, it was about that time she woke up, cursing up a storm, and swinging her fists at whomever was nearby. On impulse, I grab the hand/arm closest to me and kept her from clocking me upside the head. I was just about ready to grab the leathers (leather 4-point restraints) and be done with it! By that time, and would be verified over the next several months, I figured Julie was most likely one of our frequent fliers. And, that was only my first day actually working in that ER. Was it time to go home yet? That was also one reason I hated days. Too many non-essential lookie-loos in the ER. Nightshift seemed more able to deal with all the drama without all of the excess personnel.

SURE, WE’D GOTTEN SIMILAR shit and drama on nights. But, for some reason it was so much more entertaining, as well as accom­panied by a lot less bullshit. Also, nights were usually when I was at my best to deal with combative/crazy/stupid patients. Furthermore, on nights, management was not breathing down our necks, trying to tell us how to do a job they oftentimes had no idea how to perform themselves. That was mostly because they’ve been off the floor for so long that they’ve completely forgotten how to take care of patients.

Likewise, management was typically much more politically correct when it came to patient care. Which, in effect, meant that the patients were safe from the staff. But, it did not work the other way around wherein the staff was not necessarily allowed to make themselves safe from the combative and aggressive patients, while on dayshift. I’ll leave it at that. My insinuation will allow different conclusions to be reached. However, if someone decided to visit an ER at night, the best suggestion I can offer is to not be stupid, aggressive, or combative and everything will work out just fine.

COME TO FIND OUT, MS. Julie had a long, drawn out saga of histrionics. In addition to her medical history of PEs (Pulmonary Embolisms, or blood clots in her lungs), her main issue was overall causing trouble for the ER staff. How did that saying go, only the good die young? If that were true, she would definitely live forever!

Shortly after her arrival to the ER bay from the patient bathroom, a technician had gone into the room to start her IV. At that time, she could be heard screaming what sounded like bloody murder across the entire ER. That drew concerned stares from other patients as they could be seen peeking out from behind the curtains in their cubicles. Funny thing was, the needle hadn’t even pierced her skin yet.

What the fuck are you doing to me? Don’t touch me! I just wanna to go home, she could be heard screaming.

Fine, send the bitch home! Was my thought.

As though he read my mind, doc said here is the AMA (Against Medical Advice) paperwork. She may have passed out, but doesn’t want us to evaluate or examine her, then fine, let her go. She’ll be back soon enough; most likely later this week, if not later on today.

Being the FNG, and Julie not even being my (or the nurse who was orienting me) patient, I just watched from the side-lines so to say, amused, at all that transpired. It was only about nine-am and fortunately, we had not yet gotten very busy. Angel, the other nurse working that day, went over to Julie’s bedside and said to her Julie, here are your AMA papers; once you sign them then you are free to go!

I’m not signing those! I have pain and you all need to get rid of my pain!

Where are you having pain, Julie? Angel was very soft-spoken and somewhat compassionate, for an ER nurse. Most definitely the best nurse on shift to be able to take care of Julie without wanting to throttle her.

I have pain everywhere! I told you that! I always have pain everywhere! Don’t you ever listen to me? Get me another nurse!

By that time, I was trying not to laugh out loud or go over to the bedside and make Julie forget all about the pain she said she always had, all over. All the while I tried to compose myself and offered assistance to Angel in pacifying Julie.

Whatever! What seems to be the problem here? I asked sweetly, as I edged up to the bedside.

Julie was now yelling. I am in fucking pain. I told you people that! Doesn’t anyone listen to me? Shit!

Ma’am, everyone is listening to you since you are yelling. You need to keep your voice down and stop your cursing; we have children in this department. I sounded like a hypocrite as I cursed all the time. Nonetheless, as a sailor, I don’t typically curse loudly around a bunch of people or children.

What the fuck ever. She muttered somewhat under her breath.

Ma’am, if you want us to help you, you first need to stop cursing. As I said, there are children in this facility. And if you are in as much pain as you claim, then you will help us, help you. Otherwise, we will call security, and have you removed. Getting care here is a privilege and not a right. And if you abuse that privilege then you will lose it. Simple as that. Now, are you ready to help us help you with your pain? I ended matter-of-factly.

Yes, she muttered, as she laid back and rolled her eyes up towards the ceiling.

"Okay, for starters, you will need to tell us where you are hurting. Then you need to let us put in an IV and draw blood to find out what is wrong, what made you pass out, as well as to give you medication. If this doesn’t appeal to you, then we can give you several shots of medication in your hip. However, we still need to get some blood so that we know that what we are giving you does not react with anything else in your system, as well as any medical problems you currently have. Either way, we need you to calm down, stop your cursing and work with us!" I instructed her in a rather stern voice.

As I was walking away from the bed Angel came up to me and informed me of Julie’s extensive medical, as well as psychiatric, history and her frequent-flyer miles. (That last one was not a real thing, only ER humor.)

Holy cow! I muttered more to myself than anyone else after finding out her somewhat complete medical history. "What the fuck was wrong with that crazy girl? She’s way too young to have such a lengthy medical history. That’s definitely someone that’s been rode hard and put away wet, soaking wet! What is her issue anyway?" I asked Kelly, the nurse who was currently my preceptor.

Oh, she’s got issues with her husband. She drinks way too much. And she basically has no life except to visit us and make ours miserable. I think we see her in here at least three times a week, and each time she’s usually wasted.

Oh goody, I thought to myself. I could not wait to come to work every day, just so I could possibly have the chance to see Ms. Julie! Not!

Who Let the Dogs Out?

Iarrived to work one Friday night, not sure if it was a full moon or not, but it sure felt like it just from the atmosphere in the ER. In the process of getting report from the off-going/day shift nurse I noticed a small furry four-legged creature in one of the beds closest to the nurse’s station. The main reason I noticed the particular furry creature was for the fact that it would not stop yipping.

Who let the dogs out? I posed the question to anyone who felt the need to respond. I got several strange looks from fellow co-workers, as well as some snickers and eyes that darted towards the room in question. That was about all the response I received to my question.

Okay, seriously, what’s with the fur-ball in bed two? I whispered to the off-going charge nurse.

"Oh, I could tell you, but you would never,... ever believe me. Why don’t you go over and ask the patient yourself Captain