My disdain for cell phones in the emergency department continues.
A gentleman came in looking for help with a “personal” problem. Read that as he had pain at the tip of his woo hoo and it hurt when he urinated. No, it wasn’t the same guy from this post.
I got the history and then the gentleman dropped trow so I could evaluate the problem.
I had the gloves on and was evaluating Mr. Happy when … Gentleman’s cell phone started blasting out some rap song lyrics. Whatevah.
Instead of letting the most important call go to voice mail, Gentleman flips the phone open and starts talking … while I’m sitting there holding his pecker in my gloved hand.
The phone’s speaker is on “I forgot my hearing aid” mode, so I can hear the whole conversation.
“Yo, homey, what up?”
Gentleman doesn’t say “I’ll call you back.” He says “Nuffin. I’m chillin’.”
“Oh really,” I think to myself.
“You goin’ clubbin’ tonight?” asks the voice.
“We goin’ to Danny Z’s first and pick up some bitches …” says Gentleman.
About this time I needed to obtain a culture specimen to test Gentleman for sexually transmitted diseases. Performing this test involves putting a sterile cotton swab inside the urethra to get the sample. Unfortunately, since Gentleman was in the midst of an important and scintillating cell phone conversation, I didn’t want to be rude and interrupt him. So I took the Q-Tip and inserted it into Gentleman’s urethra as he continued to converse on his cell phone.
“An’ we gonna git AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”
[silence] Voice on other end says “DAAAAAMN! What UP wit choo, dog?”
Gentleman says “I gotta go” and hangs up the phone.
I see a “love dart” in your future, sir.
I guess I add urethral cultures to the ways in which I can get people to turn off their cell phones.