Jerk

Stick with this story, it gets better and better.

1. 30ish year old dood with girlfriend and young son in tow drinks 12 beers, gets in car, crashes car into a parked truck.

2. When Mr. D hears police coming, he gets out of his car and begins running, leaving injured girlfriend and child in car.

3. When caught by police, acts remarkably appropriately, cooperates, expresses concern for his family in the car, states that he had some beers, and that he is not injured.

4. Police mention that he is not a first-offender, is going to be charged with a felony, and will probably do jail time. All of a sudden Mr. D's "entire body hurts" and he falls to the ground "unresponsive."

5. Mr. D is brought to the ER and continues to play possum for. . . 9 hours. We stuck a catheter in him, performed sternum rub after sternum rub, multiple IVs, no response. Yet he miraculously was seen looking around, scratching his head, and readjusting his blankets every time he though he was alone. When caught, right back to playing dead.

Now our ED was absolutely packed this night and there were people literally sitting in the hallway with crushed limbs waiting for a bed. And Mr. D? Lying there taking a nap while his family, who are actual injured patients, are being scanned and sutured and splinted, and while other actually sick patients are out in the waiting room because he's tying up a bed in some incomprehensibly selfish (and short-sighted) bid to avoid a felony charge.

6. Mr. D ends up being scanned and x-rayed to the tune of several thousand dollars, since he's now been persistently "unresponsive" with no discernible cause for six hours.

7. Finally, at 6:30 am, the attending had enough. A rather vigorous finger pinch with a pair of trauma shears miraculously raises our patient from the dead. Hallelujah! He has no idea where he is, no idea what's happened for the past ten hours, he hurts all over, he's so so concerned about his family. He knows he messed up, it's never going to happen again, he's going to get into treatment today, he just wants to know his kid is okay.

8. I halfway fall for it, give the guy the benefit of doubt, sneak him in to see his girlfriend, check the various body parts he claims are injured (essentially his entire body), and arrange for a few more x-rays to be safe.

9. 8am. Mr. D leaves the hospital, abandoning his girlfriend, his injured child, the team that spent the past ten hours treating his uninjured, smelly, drunk, lying self. I spend close to an hour (after my overnight shift) looking for him, thinking maybe, in spite of everything, he was legitimately injured and is hurt or lost. I call security. I walk through all the bathrooms. I call the police in case he's hurt out on the streets. No luck.

10. 9:10am I go in to tell the girlfriend that I can't find Mr. D, ask if she knows where he might be. "That bastard left us in the hospital again!"

Yup, this is not the first time.