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!”
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.