We’re in an affluent neighborhood for chest pain. Clearly there’s a lot of commotion when an engine company and an ambulance show up, and some neighbors have bolted out to their front lawns to see what’s up.
Ten minutes later, the patient’s in the ambulance, and we’re finishing up a 12-lead when someone knocks on our back door. A man with an European accent is standing there.
“Excuse me, what is going on? The whole neighborhood is curious about what’s happening.”
“Are you family?”
“Then I’m sorry, there are privacy laws that keep us from telling you anything about him.”
That is the truth. Besides, even without laws, why would I just tell some random stranger, especially one who’s nosy enough to actually approach the ambulance, about the patient?
“YOU AMERICANS ARE SO FULL OF SHIT!” He yells as he walks away.