No, it was just that this type of call was second only to "rectal bleed" on the highly scientific EMS "Oh, HELL no" scale. Nothing good is ever encountered on this type of call. Until tonight.
We rolled out of the bunk, bleary-eyed, to hear the dispatcher monotone "Medic 4-3.. assist law enforcement.. sick person." Great. Just Great. Not even a juicy butt-whoopin. Sick person. That usually means body fluids that I'd rather not deal with at O'Dark Thirty in the blessed a.m.
We pulled up on scene, to find a bunch of cruisers, and a little clot of the aforementioned Brown-Shirted Jack-Booted Thugs standing around. I could see the back of someone's head in the back of the cruiser right in front of us... and what looked like a plastic umbilical cord that came out the bottom of the backseat door, and was stretched out about 6 feet... with a white bag at the end. It was one of those priceless "What the HECK?" moments, until I realized that the plastic "umbilical cord" was actually plastic tubing, and the white bag was a urine collection bag. THIS can't be good.
Seems that our "patient" was an elderly man who had just gotten out of the hospital, and for some reason his brain that night had turned right when it clearly should have turned left. The gentleman had been hospitalized for a GI problem, and had been catheterized with a Foley.... which was still in place. Hence the tubing and (full) collection bag.
With an unsettling smile, one of the deputies managed to keep a straight face while telling me to "go ahead and talk to [ the patient ] and see if we can see what's wrong with him." I opened the rear door to see an all-but-nekked old man who greeted me with a hearty Pirate "AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!" All he needed was an eye patch. He made up for the lack of one by simple squinting one eye.
The ensuing conversation went something like this:
"Good evening, Sir. I'm FossilMedic. How are you doing tonight"?
"I see. So, can you tell me if you're in pain"?
I gingerly closed the door, to the snickering of the deputies behind me. "Did he tell you anything useful?" one of the deputies asked.
"OK," I said, "I GOTTA hear this. What's the story?"
The detective in the group told me, with a quivering voice that was trying desperately to control yet another gale of laughter, that our "patient" had "gone rogue" about a half hour earlier... escaped from his house, and was running down the road in his neighborhood, half nekked, swinging his urine collection bag around his head like a lasso, greeting the startled neighbors who ventured out to see what all the racket was about with a menacing "AAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!"
The first Deputy on-scene was brand new, and still very wet behind the ears. The snickers turned into poorly-controlled waves of laughter. Apparently, our "patient" chased the poor deputy around his car, trying to "lasso" him with his urine collection bag. By this time, I was gasping for breath, and had tears rolling down my cheeks. Out of sympathy for the poor deputy, of course.
The deputy was clearly hurt. He was red-faced, and VERY much wasn't laughing or finding it the least bit amusing. And in one of those I'm-not-making-this-up moments... he said, "Oh, sure... it's all fun and games until someone tries to hit you with a bag of pee." Dramatic pause. Fresh gale of laughter. I actually had to sit down on the side step of my truck, I was laughing so hard. Deputy stomps off to pout. His other compadres were clutching each other and gasping for breath as well.
I can just see it now. For the next 3 months, that poor deputy is gonna arrive at work, go into the locker room, and be greeted by dozens of urine collection bags with apple juice in them. Blue Canaries and Brown-Shirted Jack-Booted Thugs are very compassionate that way. I hear.