....arrived at 10:30 PM. His complaint? "Vomiting Blood"
He and his two adolescent girlfriends giggled and texted and acted like idiots in general. I wouldn't dream of revealing his last name, but let's say if I had to pick a name out of a hat, it would rhyme with "Douche" (as in douche bag...which he was).
His triage note: "ate at Wendy's, then started vomiting blood. Pt. states he always vomits blood when he eats at Wendy's".
Yes, I know, I know. ...but why state the obvious here? You know me better than that, so I shall be withholding my comments; however, Meredith Grey has a few words to say on this issue. I will step aside to allow her perspective:
"Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we're wired that way. Because without it, I don't know; maybe we just wouldn't feel real. What's that saying? Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop".
Thank you, Dr. Grey. I suppose your discharge instructions would include opening a nice big can of this: