Friday, September 23, 2011

Feed Me

You have 35 (WTF!) visits to our ER alone this year for migraine, I have no doubt that this is drug seeking.

Gil: "Well, I know he's here a lot.  I'm suggesting that he make his own appointment at Up State Big Hospital, and keep a log of his migraine activity.   I think he  really does have  migraines"

Me: "That makes one of you".  

We nurses know who has had at least one visit per week, sometimes multiple visits in one day.  We know all of your little dramas, which lies you have told, and when you park your car around back after telling us your ride will be "right along".  

 I dutifully prepare your dose of the "d" medicine after ascertaining that your usual cadre of medication allergies was unchanged.  Toradol.  Tramadol.  Codeine.  Phenergan.  Imitrex.  Fioricet.

Within seconds of the administration of your meds, your photophobia has resolved.  You are a magically a different person and you try to engage me in a conversation about the Patriot's.  I get it; you really are just normal, friendly  guy. 

I'm sure you are.  But I don't give you anything to work with.  I'm sorry to be in a hurry to wrap this up as I have a vomiting 80 year old with an anxious family to deal with, as well as an infant with an uneducated single mother in need of teaching.  You understand.  Neither you nor the doctor has any interest in addressing your addiction, we are rubber-stamping this visit and leaving it for the next person to handle.  You have gotten what you wanted, so really, my time is better spent on caring for someone who actually wants help.  Sorry, but that's the way it is.  If you actually asked for help I would go the distance for you, and I mean that sincerely.  But until you have burned all the bridges and hit rock bottom, there is little I can do.  And it makes me feel like an ass each time you come in and play your little game. 
Feeding squirrels.  If you keep feeding them, they will surely return.  What happens when the acorns run out?