Twenty-eight calls in thirty-four hours and we never went inside. Car accidents, assaults, falls, people at pay phones with chest pains, people standing outside with their cell phones waiting to be picked up, a gun shot on the sidewalk, a kid who fell off his bike, a lady stung by a bunch of bees and a guy in a wheelchair barely alive to name a few. Though outside calls have a certain excitement potential, I actually would rather be called to a person's house. Something about still making house calls appeals to me, I suppose
Today is Monday, affectionately known as "Medical Monday" by people in the Emergency Medical Services world. The ER's will be full of people, usually starting around ten, complaining of chest pains, abdominal pain, head pain, foot pain, all kinds of pain that could wait the weekend before seeking treatment. The elderly like to wait until Monday to seek attention, maybe waiting all weekend for somebody to call or visit, then seeking company when the weekend ends by calling 911 for a mystery ailment. Doctor's office will "Turf the Gomers," calling us to transfer patients from their care to ours, then on the the hospital for tests.
The ebb and flow of the population is a strange phenomenon, I often wonder if some powerful universal force drives humanity, especially when I see surges of car accidents, or cycles of violence, and what I like the best, extended periods of calm. I'm not superstitious, but it is difficult to ignore behavior of the masses and the predictability each day brings.
Even the unexpected is seldom a surprise.