You might just wanna start rounding up
home medical supplies...
He warmed considerably when he realized that I was a Marine's wife who would have preferred to stitch her own arm could she have but reached her elbow. I assured him that I would not have the same trouble undoing his handiwork.
After an anecdote about dating a veterinary student who neutered a stray on my kitchen table during a few rounds of Cuervo Gold, the conversation turned to why I had such a strong urge to embroider myself.
"Because of the staph colony crawling all over this gurney and every nook of this fine medical establishment.", I said frankly.
Anybody who has had to sit in the local
petrie dish slash emergency room for 6 hours knows what this gal is talking about.
He chuckled at my candor but his face turned grim as he related a sad statistic. The cases of anti-biotic resistant staph in this rural hospital had positively exploded on the heels of the Meth-amphetamine boom in the hills just out the window.
Two hundred and sixteen cases in the last year alone. The details he shared with me of the sad state of our politically correct medical system left me deeply afraid.
I glared at the writhing scumbag who had by now been strapped to a bed too nearby.
Don't say you weren't warned.
