It seems like I have so many drunk stories that one might think this is a blog about drunks. Oh well, here are some more.
My patient was a twenty-one-year-old who was excessively drunk. The medics pointed out that she had “pathmarks” on her forearm. These, I was informed, indicated how many drinks she had consumed. Sure enough, on her left forearm were hash marks: three groups of four connected by a cross hashes then two singles. Seventeen drinks. Marked and worn, I assume, as a badge of honor. How much honor is there in becoming unconscious and barfing all over yourself? At least I added a new term to my vocabulary: pathmarks.
A fifteen-year-old went to the mall with her friends. I don’t know exactly what happened at the mall (or, wherever she really went,) but she arrived in our emergency department about midnight so poisoned from alcohol that she had to have a breathing tube placed in her windpipe and be put on a ventilator to breathe for her. She went to pediatric intensive care where she still was the following night. As I have mentioned many times, the blood alcohol level to be legally drunk in our fair state is 80. Hers was 659. I have seen above 700 a few times but never in a kid. Amazing. Kids (and adults) do the dumbest things.
Most of my drunk stories are sad or amusing. This was truly horrible: A fifteen-year-old girl went drinking after school with friends. She got so drunk she passed out and didn’t remember what happened to her. She was later found, bleeding and in pain, with lacerations in her vagina from having been raped. That was really terrible to take care of.
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