Life in Da City! · Pains in my Fifth Point of Contact

“The Nerve Pill”

So, TINS©, TIWFDASL© in Da City one Dark and Stormy Night. My partner was driving and, therefore, I was blessed with the opportunity to interact with the diseased and injured of Da City, at length. My Very! Favorite! Thing! Ever!

This one gentleman was seated upon the squad bench, and I had reached the part of my interview wherein I inquired after medications presently among those employed by the named patient, namely, da dude in da ambulance.

“So, Sir, do you take any medications?”

He gazed thoughtfully into the distance, or such distance as the module of an ambulance provided, and responded, “Uh, no, not really.”

Internally, the Voices Inside My Head raged over this reply. “ ‘Not Really’? Whaduhfug! How can a question, with an anticipated answer of ‘Yes’, or ‘No’, be so freaking complicated? Dude! This is a ‘Yes’ answer, because you do, indeed, take freaking medications daily, or the answer is ‘No’, because you do not! Even a simpleton such as I can sort this one out!”

What got past my Thought/Speech Filter, was the following: “Uh, does your doctor expect that you are taking medications?”

The response was, “Uh, I guess so, I suppose that he does.”

“What sort of medication might it be, that your doctor thinks that you are taking, but you are NOT taking?”

“Oh, that ‘nerve pill’”

“The ‘nerve pill’? Why did you stop taking your ‘nerve pill’?”

He looked at me, dead in the eye, and, with a straight face, told me, “Because the voices in my head told me that I did not need them any more!”

Let me tell you, the rest of THAT trip to the hospital was not relaxing!

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