16 August 2010
304
R. Linda:
I suppose I bristle most when me Irish countrymen do something that gets international attention for an act of stupid foolishness. I sit there red in the face listening to the laughter and the snide remarks about drunken Irish persons, doing the unthinkably dumb, and I want to shout at them that all nationalities have something others finger point and laugh at. But it seems more times than not, it is an Irish person who never fails to provide the levity at me expense.
A few weeks ago, a story from Ireland came over the wire and it was a ha-ha moment, that became a minute, then a few hours, to a few days of guffaws. I was told what happened, and we all did the expected ha ha and then forgot about it for the most part, but I couldn't forget about it, as I recognised the name of the miscreant. It was no ha-ha moment for yours truly in actuality. Let me tell you what made me uncomfortable.
I have an Uncle Robert, Rob to the family, who is a young sort of 30. He be well liked by one and all, a happy sort. Rob is a funny fellow but underneath that fun is a very smart son of a gun. Except when he drinks heavily. Then some of his decisions are suspect to being devious. Well, recently me uncle (which be strange to me, he be six years younger than meself - okay more than six years) did something that reached the news over here. Who'd a thunk it, as Tonya would say. When first I heard the story, I had to question the name twice and was quite sure the identity of this Robert Sullivan was me relative, and became very sure after seeing a picture of me very own Uncle Rob's mug shot that accompanied the article. And to make it worse, he was smiling in the shot!
Seems me Uncle Rob was out for a bit of a good time after putting in a 35 hour work week. He had ten Guinnesses too many and was feeling responsible in spite of the fact he was inebriated to the gills. He wasn't about to drive himself home, no indeed, he wouldn't chance a DWI now would he? Rob being smart, decided since his friends had all left and he was the last patron in the pub, he would ring a taxi company to come and fetch him. No one answered. He tried another as unsuccessfully as the first and finally with the barman wanting him out so he could close the joint up, Rob lurched out to the street. There he weaved while waving and a few taxis zoomed on passed not wanting to pick up a drunken man.
What to do? Rob lived way the hell over the other side of town (a 20 minute walk uphill mind you) and he wasn't feeling exactly focused. He sat on the curb and contemplated the time. He made out it was somewhere after 2 a.m. and all his good friends were married, and he knew to ring up any of them at that hour would probably get a mate in trouble. But in his Guinness haze, a moment of great wisdom hit (or lack of) and he knew exactly what to do. He punched in 999 (ER services) and told the person on the other end he was having trouble breathing and thought he was having a heart attack. Yes, he did.
Within minutes the ambulance pulled up to the curb and Uncle Rob put on his best act, holding his chest and being already red in the face from the drink, slurred his words (also from the drink) and put on quite a show of feigning a heart attack. He admitted he'd had a few and he first thought it was from the drink, but no, no, chest pains were making it hard to breathe, and so on he went. They slapped an oxygen mask on him, and this began to revive me uncle pretty nicely. Well, his heart was beating rapidly because he wasn't that far gone that he knew he was in the wrong, and so his heart was racing probably from the guilt of it all. Low and behold, the medics were concerned, got the gurney, strapped Uncle Rob on it and transported his arse to hospital which was a three minute walk from his abode!
The medics unloaded him to the A and E unit and left him for the doctors. Uncle Rob un-strapped himself from the gurney and taking a deep last breath of the oxygen, got himself off and out the door and walked the rest of the way home. Yes he did. Meanwhile, the nurses were looking for a run-away heart attack patient and no one could find him, but one women in the waiting area did remember a man who fit Uncle Rob's description walking out the door . . . whistling. The security people took off to look for him in the hopes he did not collapse and die in the street, but there was no sign of him. The one medic told the doctor in charge of casualty that he was suspicious the 'patient' was drunk and faked a heart attack to get a ride home. Seems Uncle Rob's tongue got away from him while in the ambulance and he muttered something about the ambulance being better than a taxi when one could lie back and enjoy the ride. Yup, the utterance WAS overheard, but the medic said they were pulling into the hospital when he heard that and reckoned the doctors would know for certain what was up with the 'patient'.
Well, a hue and cry went up that very morning over this abuse of the ambulance service and everyone concerned was calling for the identity and incarceration of the man who had the nerve to disrespect a vital service for people who needed it and had the balls to utilise the service as a personal taxi.
It gets worse, it seems the barman was able to put the finger as they say, on the collaring of Uncle Rob at his house, sleeping it off. AND, it seems once he was identified, they found this was not the first time he's done this.
"He had done this sort of thing before, and I think it disgraceful," a source told the local paper (probably the barman).
"It wasn't right. Someone could have died waiting for the ambulance and this lad uses it as his personal taxi service," said another (probably the nurse who thought she had misplaced a patient).
Yet another (probably the security guard at hospital) said, "That little p---- is back out drinking and someone could have lost their life because of HIM!"
Yes, Uncle Rob had a three minute walk home from hospital to his abode and he was looking forward to a long day of sleeping it off, when he was rudely awakened this time, not by medics, but the local constables or 'peelers' as me Uncle Rob refers to them, and hauled off unceremoniously to the nick. At least he got a ride in a police car and didn't have to walk the 2 miles to the station house. I guess that was the one good thing.
A footnote here: The NHS of Ireland (Nat'l Health Service) in lieu of this misbehaviour of a relative of mine, issued a statement, roughly this: There were just under 12,500 calls processed by ambulances over a two-year period. Only in 0.78% of these calls was a question realised as to their validity. The HSE, in common with other ER services do encounter a small number of cases from time to time. It is the policy of the HSE to monitor these call-outs closely."
Do you hear that Uncle Rob? End this behaviour now and save me a shite load of grief and embarrassment. Please!
Gabe
Copyright © 2010 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I suppose I bristle most when me Irish countrymen do something that gets international attention for an act of stupid foolishness. I sit there red in the face listening to the laughter and the snide remarks about drunken Irish persons, doing the unthinkably dumb, and I want to shout at them that all nationalities have something others finger point and laugh at. But it seems more times than not, it is an Irish person who never fails to provide the levity at me expense.
A few weeks ago, a story from Ireland came over the wire and it was a ha-ha moment, that became a minute, then a few hours, to a few days of guffaws. I was told what happened, and we all did the expected ha ha and then forgot about it for the most part, but I couldn't forget about it, as I recognised the name of the miscreant. It was no ha-ha moment for yours truly in actuality. Let me tell you what made me uncomfortable.
I have an Uncle Robert, Rob to the family, who is a young sort of 30. He be well liked by one and all, a happy sort. Rob is a funny fellow but underneath that fun is a very smart son of a gun. Except when he drinks heavily. Then some of his decisions are suspect to being devious. Well, recently me uncle (which be strange to me, he be six years younger than meself - okay more than six years) did something that reached the news over here. Who'd a thunk it, as Tonya would say. When first I heard the story, I had to question the name twice and was quite sure the identity of this Robert Sullivan was me relative, and became very sure after seeing a picture of me very own Uncle Rob's mug shot that accompanied the article. And to make it worse, he was smiling in the shot!
Seems me Uncle Rob was out for a bit of a good time after putting in a 35 hour work week. He had ten Guinnesses too many and was feeling responsible in spite of the fact he was inebriated to the gills. He wasn't about to drive himself home, no indeed, he wouldn't chance a DWI now would he? Rob being smart, decided since his friends had all left and he was the last patron in the pub, he would ring a taxi company to come and fetch him. No one answered. He tried another as unsuccessfully as the first and finally with the barman wanting him out so he could close the joint up, Rob lurched out to the street. There he weaved while waving and a few taxis zoomed on passed not wanting to pick up a drunken man.
What to do? Rob lived way the hell over the other side of town (a 20 minute walk uphill mind you) and he wasn't feeling exactly focused. He sat on the curb and contemplated the time. He made out it was somewhere after 2 a.m. and all his good friends were married, and he knew to ring up any of them at that hour would probably get a mate in trouble. But in his Guinness haze, a moment of great wisdom hit (or lack of) and he knew exactly what to do. He punched in 999 (ER services) and told the person on the other end he was having trouble breathing and thought he was having a heart attack. Yes, he did.
Within minutes the ambulance pulled up to the curb and Uncle Rob put on his best act, holding his chest and being already red in the face from the drink, slurred his words (also from the drink) and put on quite a show of feigning a heart attack. He admitted he'd had a few and he first thought it was from the drink, but no, no, chest pains were making it hard to breathe, and so on he went. They slapped an oxygen mask on him, and this began to revive me uncle pretty nicely. Well, his heart was beating rapidly because he wasn't that far gone that he knew he was in the wrong, and so his heart was racing probably from the guilt of it all. Low and behold, the medics were concerned, got the gurney, strapped Uncle Rob on it and transported his arse to hospital which was a three minute walk from his abode!
The medics unloaded him to the A and E unit and left him for the doctors. Uncle Rob un-strapped himself from the gurney and taking a deep last breath of the oxygen, got himself off and out the door and walked the rest of the way home. Yes he did. Meanwhile, the nurses were looking for a run-away heart attack patient and no one could find him, but one women in the waiting area did remember a man who fit Uncle Rob's description walking out the door . . . whistling. The security people took off to look for him in the hopes he did not collapse and die in the street, but there was no sign of him. The one medic told the doctor in charge of casualty that he was suspicious the 'patient' was drunk and faked a heart attack to get a ride home. Seems Uncle Rob's tongue got away from him while in the ambulance and he muttered something about the ambulance being better than a taxi when one could lie back and enjoy the ride. Yup, the utterance WAS overheard, but the medic said they were pulling into the hospital when he heard that and reckoned the doctors would know for certain what was up with the 'patient'.
Well, a hue and cry went up that very morning over this abuse of the ambulance service and everyone concerned was calling for the identity and incarceration of the man who had the nerve to disrespect a vital service for people who needed it and had the balls to utilise the service as a personal taxi.
It gets worse, it seems the barman was able to put the finger as they say, on the collaring of Uncle Rob at his house, sleeping it off. AND, it seems once he was identified, they found this was not the first time he's done this.
"He had done this sort of thing before, and I think it disgraceful," a source told the local paper (probably the barman).
"It wasn't right. Someone could have died waiting for the ambulance and this lad uses it as his personal taxi service," said another (probably the nurse who thought she had misplaced a patient).
Yet another (probably the security guard at hospital) said, "That little p---- is back out drinking and someone could have lost their life because of HIM!"
Yes, Uncle Rob had a three minute walk home from hospital to his abode and he was looking forward to a long day of sleeping it off, when he was rudely awakened this time, not by medics, but the local constables or 'peelers' as me Uncle Rob refers to them, and hauled off unceremoniously to the nick. At least he got a ride in a police car and didn't have to walk the 2 miles to the station house. I guess that was the one good thing.
A footnote here: The NHS of Ireland (Nat'l Health Service) in lieu of this misbehaviour of a relative of mine, issued a statement, roughly this: There were just under 12,500 calls processed by ambulances over a two-year period. Only in 0.78% of these calls was a question realised as to their validity. The HSE, in common with other ER services do encounter a small number of cases from time to time. It is the policy of the HSE to monitor these call-outs closely."
Do you hear that Uncle Rob? End this behaviour now and save me a shite load of grief and embarrassment. Please!
Gabe
Copyright © 2010 All rights reserved
