Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Part the Second

This upset him. (Me touching him, not me imagining myself as Clint Eastwood), and he stood up, got right in my face and began screaming something along the lines of: "Who d'you think you are? I ain't afraid, You ain't no Big Man...", all the while coating my face in a generous layer of spittle.

After a few minutes of this, I'd had enough, and told him he could leave. This provoked death threats, and more abuse. Undeterred, I tried to evict him from the Hospital. For reasons still unclear to me, Hospital Management stepped in, and decided the best thing to do would be to let him stay, but in his own room. It was felt that he'd acted irrationally because of pain, or thirst, or something. A Psych opinion was sought, and they concurred. The whole thing was a fucking joke. I know now I should ahve just called the Police and had him thrown out, but even now it's difficult to do. My defence organisation backed him, remember...

The cynic in me thinks his dad was someone influential.

I was ordered to treat him, despite he and his friends repeatedly threatening my life - his friends, in black visored motorcycle helmets would wait for me outside the hospital, and gather around me as I left work. At least my time on the Burns Unit kept me mostly out of his way....

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