...for the PD eval...

I love my cop buddies, always looking to punt a disagreeable patient to me. Not because they want to, but because that's just the way the system works. They catch the bad guy and I deal with the bad guy's BS complaint. For once it wasn't the bad guy. And behold, this call was another 2-fer!

THE EMERGENCY

PD is requesting a Code 3 Medic.

THE ACTION

Every time I've asked for PD code three I get a response from radio of, "Why do you need them code 3?" I'm sure they're not second guessing me, they just want to give the responding officers a headsup as to the situation. Makes perfect sense, now let's apply the standard both ways.

We're responding to the big box corner drug store that rhymes with Ballgreen's and we see the car out front with the yellow lights flashing slowly.
As we pull into the parking lot we hear another dispatch to this location for the unconscious. they're sending an engine and another ambulance.
"Control this is Medic Van 99, cancel those other units, we'll advise." Is my response and I hear both units cheerily go back in service.

The boys, and girl, in blue advise their person in custody bit a clerk while trying to rob the store. Apparently in this bad economy, thieves are reduced to holding up stores using only their pearly (not in his case) whites (also, not so much in this case.) The clerk is embarrassed more than anything and says he was just leaving for the local clinic to get it cleaned out.
Here's a guy that knows how the system is supposed to work.
"Don't even touch me, I'm not your patient, I didn't call you." He knows the law as well. Sounds like this guy got stuck with a bill when someone else called for him and now he knows how to avoid one in the future. Kudos. I took off my glove and shook his hand.

Oh, that's right, you're wondering where the unconscious person is? She is sitting in the parking lot, in the driver's seat, conscious. Her friends have called demanding she been taken in at once and "given something for the pain."
"Slow down there, she has to take me to dinner first..."

Crickets.

Tough parking lot. My opening line is met with tears from a woman clearly in discomfort. She describes her ovarian fibroids and it sounds like kidney stones times 3. I'm thinking of different options to help her, O2, position of comfort, etc when the answer to my next question confirmed she would get nothing.

"Have you seen a doctor for this recently?"
"Yes, I just came from there to get my prescription filled." She's holding up a full bottle of hydrocodone.
"Do you want to go see another doctor?" With only a hint of 'What the hell do you expect now?' in my voice.
"I need to do something, the pain is too much." She's crying and clearly in pain, hence the prescription.
"Hang on a minute," I rise up from the car and look at the crowd of people who have gathered. "Who called us?"
"I did," A woman comes forward, blue flash from her ear.
"Do you know her? Can you give her a ride home?" Seemed like a fair question to me.
"That's your job honey. Just give her a pain shot or some antibiotics or somethin', then she'll feel better." Was her unreasonable answer.
"Is there anyone who can come get you and take you home so you can take the medicine the doctor's think will make you better?"
"I just want to go home!" She cries.

From the other side of the parking lot appears the husband, who she called prior to the passerby calling 911.
"Thank you so much for checking on her, I just got the message she was out of the doctor's" He's tearing up as well.
"Can you take her home?"
"I will right now, thank you." And he parked his own car and helped her into the passenger side of the car and began to drive off.

The woman who called us just gave a sneer and walked down the street, completely unaware of the chaos she had caused.