I've never been a huge fan of middle-o-the-night calls, for obvious reasons. The older I've gotten, the more attached I've become to my mattress, it seems.
So when I get toned out at 3:20 in the blessed am, it better be something good. And it rarely is. In fact, it so RARELY is that we've dubbed it the "3:00am BS Call." Seems to happen almost every night.
This night was no different.
It's 3:20am, and we're called out to a "general illness," which can mean anything from "grampa's gone on to greener pastures" to "I have a sniffle." With apologies to Forrest, our calls are "just like a box 'o chocolates. Ya never know what yer gonna git."
What we got on this call was a 21 year old kid whose chief complaint was "I think I need to hawk a luggie." Not quite knowing if I heard him right, I asked him to repeat it. "I haven't been sick in a couple 'o years, and I think I forgot what it feels like... I feel like I have something caught in my throat... I feel like I have to hawk a luggie," he said most emphatically, as if he were describing a blossoming abdominal aortic aneurysm.
I looked at my partner, tried not to laugh, and in the most empathetic voice I could muster, told him to drink plenty of fluids, and to call his doctor in the morning. Of course, I made sure he knew that we WOULD transport him if he wanted to go that badly, but let him know that it would probably involve a LONG wait in the waiting room if he did. He chose to sit tight.
It never fails to amuse me what people will call 9-1-1 for. We joke about it sometimes, but honestly, our imaginations just can't compete with reality... you just can't make this stuff up!