Mistaken Identity

San Francisco is a melting pot of people. We have every nationality in our city, ever gender, every non-gender, every anything-you-can-imagine. But what it all boils down to is that they are all human beings that deserve respect and concern.

Two very specific incidents come to my mind. Two I will never forget:

On a very warm summer night, we got a call for a possible heart attack or stroke. The Dispatcher wasn't sure due to the language barrier of the Asian man on the phone. But he was hysterical and we responded to the call with lights and sirens.

Arriving at the apartment building, we realized we had to climb 5 stories. The building was old and there was no elevator. 60 pounds of Bunker clothes, all our equipment (if this was indeed a heart attack, we couldn't waste time running back down to our Squad to retrieve it).... not to mention the heat. All this was not in our favor tonight. By the time we arrived at the fifth floor landing, we we pretty much out of breath. Carrying all that weight is not so easy, believe me!

The man answers the door when we knock. He is truly in a state of distress. Through broken English, he is trying to tell us that "she" (his wife? his daughter? his mother?) is in bad shape. The woman must be in cardiac arrest or in this stifling heat, perhaps suffering a heat stroke.

We are ready to revive this woman. We have all our medical equipment; we are highly trained for this kind of emergency. The man leads us into a bedroom to the patient. We all rush in prepared to do our jobs. We stop in our tracks in the doorway though.

Lying on the bed is a limp and obviously recently dead chicken. We look at each other in disbelief. So this is what I was "trained" to do? Revive a chicken? I don't know if I want to break out in a fit of giggles or be angry at the false 911 call. I refrain from the giggles but can't muster the strength to be angry since I am desperately holding back all my laughter. My Captain tries to tell the man that the bird is dead and we can't do anything to help it. The man is so distraught. He NEEDS his chicken alive. I have to leave the room before I die of laughter. Later I find out the man was planning to serve the bird at a dinner party for his brother's anniversary but the bird was not big enough yet an needed to live longer to get fattened up.

I became a vegetarian that night.


As I was saying... We have many different kinds of people in our city. I thought I knew them all. Perhaps I was wrong on this one particular night. A call from Dispatch for a woman in labor on the street send us scurrying to the scene. One thing we can't tolerate is losing a patient... let alone a baby.

Upon arrival, we find a very pregnant woman lying on the sidewalk writhing in pain. She looks to be a full 9 months pregnant. She is crying and complaining of "the pain." The police move back the crowd that has gathered around us. We drape covers over her. Since she is wearing a dress, it makes it easy for me to exam her. I proceed to examine her. Even I can't believe the words that come out of my mouth.

"We have BALLS here!"

My Captain looks at me in a panic and asks, "She is giving birth to a baby boy???? ALREADY?"

"No," I say. "We have BALLS."

Everyone looks at me strangely.

I know that no matter WHAT I say now..... it won't make sense. But I try. "She is NOT a woman. She is a MAN!"

"WHAT?" my Captain asks loudly. I think he can't hear me so I repeat it even louder (perhaps a bit TOO loud!)..... "This is a MAN!"

My patient was an overweight drag queen. Looked pregnant. Complained of abdominal pain (which we so innocently took as labor pains considering the whole scenario!)

What we had in the end was a man......... (whatever!)........ who had a painful kidney stone and bladder infection.

I stand corrected on this one.... and still trying to stifle the giggles.

:-)))