As I was about to leave the ER, I heard a familiar voice ringing behind me. I stopped.
“What do you mean, discharge papers? All you’ve done is take a few pictures. I had to beg for the pain-killers.” I turned to see Henry sitting up in bed with his nurse standing at his side. His nurse was trying to hand him a small stack of white paper.
“Sir, the doctor says you can go. We can drive you, we’ve called out an ambulance--”
“I don’t want to go home. I still don’t feel well.” Henry leaned towards the nurse, throwing his arm out. Alarmed the nurse glanced over his shoulder, checking for back-up. He looked relieved to see that there were a few people at the main desk, near where I was, who were on the alert.
“Well sir, the x-ray says you don’t have pneumonia-”
“Are you calling me a liar?” The nurse blinked. Henry shook a finger at him. “I see how it is.” He snatched the discharge papers from his nurse and snorted. He ripped them in half and threw them in the air with a grunt.
“What are you doing?”
“I am not leaving until you people cure me.” Henry crossed his arms and snuggled deeper into the bed, as if growing roots. The nurse’s voice was controlled but tension could be traced through his face.
“Sir, if you don’t calm down we’ll have to call security-”
“But I’m still sick. I even feel nauseous now.” I had my own suspicions as to wear the nausea was coming from, but I kept them to myself. I saw a nurse at the main desk pick up a telephone. The intercom blared.
“Code Grey, Main ER. Code Grey, Main ER.” Henry began to wiggle as security guards with blue shirts, shining badges, and ear-pieces trotted over. Most of the time all they did was watch you-tube videos on their phone and take patients to the bathroom, but on days like today, they were handy. Henry shrunk into a ball.
“Send six thugs in to harass the sick guy. I see. What kind of a crappy hospital is this? I’m ill. Ever since I was a kid I’ve had lung trouble, and now it’s spread to my stomach.” While security stood, unsure of what to do, I tried to think of how exactly Henry imagined his anatomy to be.
“We’ll drive you home.”
“I don’t want to be driven home. I feel sick.” Henry pounded his fist on his lap. “Keep your hands off of me.” None of the security guards had moved. “I--”
Vomit spilled across the bed and floor. The security guards lept back. I watched in amazement as Henry emptied, dessert, second dinner, and first dinner, onto his opponents.
“Ugh.” One of the guards covered his face turning away.
“Aha. See. I am sick.” Henry shoved a finger into the air.
“Ok, we have to get this mess cleaned up--”
“I told you I was sick. I told you. It’s because of my pneumonia.”
“I doubt that.” The nurse lifted his foot. Steaming green semi-liquid covered his shoe. I grabbed some gloves. His nurse would need help, and judging by the looks and noises of revulsion, coming from security, he wouldn’t be getting it from them. I had never dealt with vomit outside of a bin before, but somehow, I wasn’t very excited.
Henry had to be taken to the bathroom by security and given a new hospital robe while we wiped his room down. Laundry made a separate trip to take care of his sheets. They almost called in the UV light crew to deep-clean the room, until they realized that Henry’s vomiting spree was caused by nothing but pure over-eating.
Of course, in the commotion, Henry’s ambulance was called away to attend to a hospital a few miles away. By the time Henry sat back down, the estimated wait time for another one to show was at least five hours. It seems that by the will of Providence, all hospitals within a five mile radius had sudden need of return-trip ambulances.
When we reinstated Henry on his throne, and told him of the unfortunate delay he beamed.
“It’s no problem. I’m sure there are some who need the ambulance more than I do.” The nurse gave a tight smile and left. I was about to follow when Henry said,
“This is going to sound crazy. But after emptying out like that, I’m hungry again.”
tsarina
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