Crazy Chest Pain Guy was getting triaged right as I walked in. Crazy Chest Pain Guy is crazy, and apparently has a lot of chest pain (to the tune of several hundred negative workups over the past few years). Crazy Chest Pain Guy will sit in a bed for hours, smacking his lips, and repeating, "Yup, it hurts real bad" until he goes home.
From that point on I knew I was doomed. My first actual patient was Flat Affect Girl, a young woman who came in for a twisted ankle. No history according to her chart, but she seemed totally spaced out and more than a little off. Could have been the result of Overbearing Mother, who hovered over me every time I entered the room, asked me about everything I was doing, and then repeated was I said to her daughter in a sing-songy voice.
Next on the list was a demented old woman in the hallway tugging at her catheter and trying to climb out of the stretcher. Nothing's better for a laugh than when I put on my super-polite voice and try to calm her down, fluff her pillow, and tuck in her blankets while everyone's watching, only to have her scream "Go to Hell" as I walk away.
Foul-Smelling Patient. I've had plenty of stinky ones in the past, and I'm an expert at breathing through my mouth to avoid wafting the fumes emanating from unwashed patients' folds, but this one was so bad that as soon as I finished the EKG and left the room, I had to immediately step outside for some fresh air. No joke, my eyes were watering.