There have been countless medical drama shows on TV, providing us with an insight into the busy world of hospital emergency rooms, where handsome young doctors save life after life while still finding time to flirt with the nurses. BBW News wanted to find out what is really going on in this country’s ERs, so I spend a whole weekend in a Detroit area hospital, observing the medical professionals at work. No TV show could have prepared me for the craziness I was about to witness!

It all started harmlessly enough. A boy was brought in by his parents. He had a black eye and there was some blood on his face from a cut. From what I could overhear, he had been in a scuffle at school when he picked a fight with a bigger boy. He got a few stitches and a ninja turtle band aid, and he was out of the ER just a few minutes later. A routine case for the ER personal.

I had already forgotten all about it when a few hours later another boy was brought in, wrapped in a blanket. At least I thought it was a different boy until he got behind a privacy screen and dropped the blanket. Only then did I realize that it was the same boy from earlier in the day. He was naked and shivering because apparently he had fallen through a hole in the ice while he was fishing. Which was kinda strange, because even in Michigan there aren’t that many frozen lakes in August. But maybe there were some indoor places where you could go ice fishing all year round. After all, Michiganians are a queer folk! And the water had definitely been cold, judging from the temperature gauge between his legs. Anyway, the nurse told the boy’s parents that there was nothing wrong with him and sent them off again.

Before I even had a chance to drink a cup of coffee, the boy was back yet again, with a few more scrapes and bruises. The family’s car had barely left the hospital parking lot when another car rear-ended them. Since the boy hadn’t been wearing his seat belt, he had somersaulted through the car and landed somewhere between the front seats. But once again, he’d had more luck than brains, and all his injuries were superficial. Though I was beginning to wonder how one small person could be such a huge magnet for accidents.

When they were out of the door this time, some of the nurses joked about having a betting pool on when the little maverick would be back in the ER. If I would have put some money on the next afternoon, I would have lost, because he was actually back the next morning!

This time he was in a wheelchair when he came in. He was muddy from head to toe and his right ankle was badly swollen. I had a chance to talk with him while he was waiting to have some x-rays taken, and he told me that he had been racing his quad through the mud, trying to vent some frustrations and anger about all the mishaps of the day before. It had all been fun until he ended up in the mud and under the quad. The x-rays showed that his ankle was broken, though once again he was lucky not to need surgery. When he limped out of the ER a couple of hours later with a cast and a big boot on his foot, I couldn’t resist calling, “Nice booty!”.

If anyone had thought that a broken foot would slow this tiny terror down, he would have been sorely mistaken. I couldn’t believe my eyes when the boy was wheeled into the ER again. There was a freaking arrow sticking in his left foot! “I was just shooting my bow in the back yard,” he told me. “Then I had to sneeze and suddenly the arrow was sticking in my foot. I don’t really know how that happened. Ha!”

The fiberglass arrow was quickly removed and the wound disinfected and bandaged. Most people would have been crying or cursing after such a series of accidents, but somehow the boy was still smiling broadly. When I asked him what he was so happy about, he said, “Dad felt so sorry for me, he promised to buy me a motorcycle to make me feel better. I can’t wait to feel that hot thing between my legs!”

I could already picture him in a full body cast. But at least he shouldn’t be able to get hurt again today, not with two bad feet. He’d just have to sit on the couch for a while and play with himself. And yet, just as I was about to leave after more than 48 hours in the ER, he showed up again, accompanied by another boy who looked to be about the same age. They appeared to be talking in sign language, which I did not understand. When I asked one of the nurses, she shrugged and said, “I’m not sure if I got it right, but I think the little guy just signed ‘My penis is on fire!’” I didn’t even want to know what that was about.

One thing had become clear to me – real life stories can be far crazier than any screenplay!

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