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From:  "Julie Jones" <juliejon@cemonol.com>
Subject:  Your new car Bob
Date:  Mon, 07 Nov 2005 20:11:56 -0500
>Hi Bob,
>
>Your new car is waiting for you
>Don't lose the chance for the best
>selection of all 2006 vehicles.
>
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>
>http://cemonol.com/cl/index.html
>
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>http://cemonol.com/index.html NoMorePlease
>
>Ad From
>-SixTe.en Thi.rty
>-Thirtyeth Stre.et
>-Post.Mail.Box
>-B-oul-der  C0.
>-80.3.01
>555A5A185E5B025B430E09225443595456504959
>
>
>The first job of the morning has stayed with me for the rest of the day
>
>*Warning: not for the faint of heart* Herein lays a tale of Scaryduck stylings.
>
>I was sent to a 'Male, 59, fitting - locked in empty bathroom'. I got there quickly, within eight minutes, so already it was a 'successful' job.
>
>As the person who met me opened the door to the flat I was overwhelmed with an intense, and incredibly disgusting smell. At first I thought that it was the person opening the door (he was rather dishevelled, and I've smelt breath that bad before), but no, the smell got stronger as I entered the flat.
>
>There were four people there, all of them looked like the man who opened the door, and the state of the flat made me think that everyone in there was an alcoholic.
>
>Sitting, or rather, propped up on the sofa was the man who had been fitting. His friends had managed to undo the door to the bathroom, and had manhandled him into the living room.
>
>"He's been drinking, we were both drinking heavily yesterday", I was told.
>
>"Fair enough", I said, "Is he epileptic, or does he have alcoholic fits?"
>
>"Both, I think", replied his friend.
>
>Then I looked down.
>
>Something the size of a snooker ball had rolled down the inside of his jeans and was sitting in front of him. It was brown, it was wet, and was rather horrible looking.
>
>A pile of poo. His poo. A poo done after a night of heavy drinking.
>
>Suddenly I realised where the smell was coming from.
>
>I'm sure that most people realise that after a night on the town, the first poo you do can stink to high heaven. This was that epic a poo. I imagine that there was a lot more of it smeared over the inside of his jeans. This is the sort of poo that would issue forth from the arse of Satan himself. It was the sort of poo that shouldn't be flushed away, but instead sealing in a barrel and buried in a place that has lots of warning signs pinned to the barbed wire fence surrounding it.
>
>It really did smell that bad.
>
>His friend (who actually didn't know him that well), picked up the poo with a bit of newspaper and ran it into the toilet.
>
>I could hear him gagging from his new-found proximity to the toxic poo. When he came back into the room his face was an interesting shade of pale green, and there was a thin film of sweat upon his brow.
>
>I treated the patient, actually quite a simple job. Then the ambulance crew turned up, and I pointed out that the patient's shoe was covered in his own sticky poo.
>
>Carrying the patient down the stairs, the poo managed to get transferred from the shoe onto the shirt of one of the crew. He wasn't happy.
>
>I stopped myself from laughing.
>
>..almost.
>
>The only problem is that I can still, several hours later, smell the rank stench of that demonic poo from hell. Actually, I can still taste the poo in the air.
>
>
>I almost feel sorry for the nurses at the hospital...
>Comments (9)  |  Permanent Link  |  Cosmos
>Sunday, November 6
>   Breathless
>by Reynolds on November 6, 2005 08:02PM (GMT)
>The first of my two nights, wasn�t too bad, as I mentioned, I didn�t have to wait too long for an ambulance to turn up.
>
>Shame about the second night�
>
>My first call was to a 71 year old female with �Difficulty in breathing�.
>
>I turned up, and was met by loads of small children.  Making my way to the patient, she was using her own home medication to try and ease her asthma.
>
>It wasn�t working.
>
>A quick check of her oxygen levels showed 71%.  It should be above 95%, below 85% makes me rather worried.  You might guess that 71% really put the wind up me.
>
>I spoke to the son while preparing my treatment.  He�d obviously seen this before, as he gave as good a description of the patient and her problems as I would have expected from a medical professional.  The patient had been in intensive care twice for her asthma.  If an asthmatic ever ends up in ITU, then it shows how rapidly the patient�s condition can deteriorate.  At the very least, it makes me rather nervous that the patient will �go off on me�, and it suddenly turns into a respiratory arrest.
>
>The medication was given to the patient, Salbutamol � a nebulized drug administered straight into the lungs in the form of a gas.  I was also giving her a large amount of pure oxygen in an effort to raise her blood oxygen levels.
>
>Then I turned around and nearly fell over three rows of eight children, quietly sitting cross legged and staring up at me with big brown eyes.
>
>�Don�t mind them�, said the patient�s son, �It�s Eid, so the whole family are celebrating�.
>
>�She�, he said indicating the patient, �has twenty one grandchildren�.
>
>I nearly suggested that this might be why she was breathless�
>
>So now it was time to wait for the ambulance to take this very sick patient out of my responsibility and off to the hospital.  I could see her getting more and more tired, although her oxygen levels were more normal (if only because I was blasting plenty of oxygen down her face-mask).
>
>�Would you please leave the room�, asked her son after talking to the patient, �she needs to use the commode�.
>
>Now, ask any medical professional when is the most dangerous time for your patient, and I would think that 99% of them would say that it�s when they go to the toilet.
>
>�Hmmm� alright�, I said, �but someone stays with her�.
>
>I was standing right outside the room, waiting for a shout for help and then for me to bound into the room to resuscitate her in front of twenty-one small children.
>
>Luckily for all involved, she survived her encounter with the commode, and we settled down to wait again.
>
>While I was waiting, I was constantly reassessing the patient.  I really wasn�t happy to have her waiting so long because while my treatment was improving her condition somewhat, she needed better care than I could give.
>
>The son offered me a cup of tea.
>
>He knew how serious it was, he knew that the ambulances in the area were probably picking up drunks, and yet he understood my apologies, and offered me a cup of tea.