I can’t curl 300 pounds

Code 3 at the urgent care clinic. Again. That’s another story in itself, but anyway.

A 300-pound woman was brought there by her son and now she is on a hospital gurney. We move her over to our gurney to bring her to the ED. She complains that we’re too rough. We lift the gurney. She complains that we’re too rough. We roll the gurney out. She complains it’s too bumpy. We load her. She complains we’re too rough. You get the picture.

I’m not bothered by many things that should bother me. However, tiny little things like this really annoy me.

What came out of my mouth: “Sorry.”

What almost came out of my mouth: “Listen, you fat fuck, can you move 300 pounds? Oh right, you can’t even walk! Do I look like the fucking Hulk?”

One thought on “I can’t curl 300 pounds”

  1. I normally just tell my patients (heavy or not) if they are complaining this much they aren’t that sick because truly sick people don’t bitch.

    And on my nicer days I tell them that ambulances aren’t built for comfort. They aren’t RV’s, they are designed to haul emergent patients to the emergency room.

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