This book had me down on the floor, clutching my stomach and laughing---in a way it was reminiscent of navigating the closest emergency room or urgent care while RN takes my O2 Sat clutching a blood pressure cuff. People then described my speech as slurry sloppy words. Whatever. Meanwhile in the back seat, we are flooded by the melodic recitation of “Our Father” as a tall blonde (model) in a white hoodie turns right and we three girls make our way towards the “Asylum” aka “The Emergency Room.” We (like McAdams) brace for the poking, and viewing of non-insured patients in ultra casual wear being turned away, a 16 year old redhead in a white pajama gown walks like a drunken bum as she barfs loudly into a white 5.7 gallon rubbermaid lined trash can that she possessively clutches. I briefly talk with a mother of a sick child as we begin entry and my name is called loudly---in a military tone. Immunocompromised companions steer clear---jet back home---of the ER interior (where known COVID19 patients, gangbangers, bloody filthy children, and otherwise tattooed coffee with cream colored patients) await care from Ivy League Ivory Practitioners. Some are generational doctors with ER finesse.
"Chapter 6 “Laughter is the only medicine without side effects.” - Shannon L. Alder Picture this: you are brought into a cold, dank, stone-faced building no one wants to go into. You are given an ID tag and number. You are separated from your loved ones. Upon entry, you are given standard-issue clothing, identical to what all other occupants are wearing."
---Josh McAdams, RN
I look left and find a Congresswoman in open toed black sandals and her husband sitting on chairs across from me as he mumbles (as if chanting) “it's the medicines.” I sit back on my non cushioned blue chair reading about “Ignatius” on the ProMax while observing and waiting for the non NBA height physician with the chestnut movie star hair to ask me to touch his fingers. He then sends someone to poke me for blood after Orange Juice is handed to me (pre CBC). I snap a picture and off we go. A paper report is placed in my hands and practitioners are wet with bodily fluids and stained scrubs smile as they watch intake swipe my card for a hefty co-pay and I proceed to skip the hell out of the “asylum.” I have yet to see the familiar nurse---fan of black humor---who loudly slams my EKG report on the plastic counter, the girl who tries to blow a vein and then uses a butterfly (and invites a friend to watch me get poked and exclaim ouch), after the short dark haired man who tells me to take it off, while a family member sequesters behind some barricade to exclaim later “I saw your ribs.” This is another world. Here we learn to laugh at what is behind the curtain as all of us return home---more broke, poked and missing hours. Strange sense of humor here. No idea, yet Josh McAdams, AP RN, MSN, will dose you hard with laughter---there are no contraindications for this drug nor lasting negative leftovers. Brutal honesty within. Hilarious.