Hi everyone,
Since this is my first official post, I should probably set this whole thing up: I’m Andy and I write stuff. Some of said stuff, I’ll share here every few weeks or so. Wow, that was….easy.
Now, on to the story!
This week’s piece is a bit of a tongue-in-cheek take on a specific trope from action films. Have fun reading, and don’t be afraid to share with anyone you think might like it.
Cheers,
Andy
Rules for the Midnight Veterinary Shift
(Please do not remove from cork board)
Rule 1. If you’re lucky enough to get a slow night, familiarize yourself with the human anatomy pamphlet in locker 3. You’ll thank me later. Otherwise, pay close attention to the rules and tips below. They may save your life. Unless it’s better for the plot if you die, of course.
Rule 2. Be extra alert in between the hours of midnight and 4am. Some “associates” will likely arrive during that window. You may have literally just seen them in the Breaking News Report on the little TV next to the front desk. They can’t go to a hospital. Don’t ask why. Or ask but know you won’t get an answer…actually just don’t ask.
Rule 3. Refuse to help, at least at the beginning. That’s key to your part in all this. “I’m not a doctor, I’m only trained for animals,” you might try saying. “Are you going to help or not?” they’ll probably retort. (And it’s not really a question since they have guns. Or you still owe them from that one time. Or one of their larger associates will crack their knuckles threateningly.)
Rule 4. After a big sigh, you can relent. But you’re not happy about it. Just take them to the back room and see what you can do, okay?
Rule 5. Assess the injuries. These people will have dire, but simple diagnoses. We’re talking gunshots. Stabs. Missing fingers. But be ready for anything, like two people’s legs impaled together on the same pipe, or something similarly wacky (most likely observed during Crime Comedy, Rule #9).
Rule 6. Know your customer. You’ll want to base your plan of action on the vibes they’re putting off. There are some main archetypes that it’s worthwhile to understand (See Rules #7-9).
Rule 7. The Lone Wolf does not say much. Just wants in and out. They also have the highest risk for non-injury-related complications (see We’ve Got Company, Rule #13).
a. The Lone Wolf will 100% refuse pain killers. But they will accept hard alcohol, guzzled directly from the bottle.
b. The Lone Wolf will not want to talk about their past, which unfortunately includes pertinent medical history. You’ll just have to eyeball them and go with a demographics-based approach. The Lone Wolf is (nearly) always a male, thirty-to-fifty years old, with the wear and tear you might normally associate with a pro athlete. (With some extra scars of course.)
c. The Lone She-Wolf is seen occasionally. She’s literally the same as the Lone Wolf, except she’s, well, a woman. Certain insecure males will likely have plausibility issues with her “character” or “dialogue” or “action sequences” that they’d never have examined as thoroughly for a dude doing the same things. You can’t worry about that in the moment, though. Just give her the vodka bottle and fix her up.
Rule 8. Bonnie and Clyde will be a duo. Most often lovers. It’s rare that both are hurt, but it does happen (see You’re Bleeding, Were You Hit Too? Rule #12)
a. Look, these two will be really, really good looking. Like, model hot. Try not to let it distract you. Sexy people can bleed out like anyone else.
b. Wholesome derivatives of Bonnie and Clyde include Parent/Child and Criminal/Civilian. Have some toys or at the very least, pop culture references ready for the kiddo in the Parent/Child variety. They’ll need you to keep things upbeat while working on the wounds of the Parent. For the Criminal/Civilian, just hope it’s the Criminal with the wound, not the Civilian. The Criminal will keep their moaning and whining to a minimum. Not so much with the Civilian.
Rule 9. The Crime Comedy is probably the most stressful. The tone is just all off. Death is near for one person — everyone, including and especially you with your expertise, for sure knows it. But some combination of details will make the whole thing seem okay. Like the lighting. Or the music. Keep an ear out for upbeat music. Always an indicator of Crime Comedy.
a. Crime Comedy often takes shape as Three Guys Over Their Head. In this scenario, one or two of them will employ the comic relief. Likeliest scenario is passing out at the sight of blood. But be ready for fiddling with instruments (“put that down, it’s for dogs” has worked well in the past).
b. Crime Comedy folk definitely talk about their past. It’ll actually be information overload. But don’t worry, the serious one of the crew will silence them with a slap or a hard stare. Write down or memorize anything pertinent to the wound(s) and move on.
c. If it’s one Crime Comedian alone, you’ll just have to sit through the jokes. Maybe increase their pain killer if you get annoyed.
Rule 10. Now time for The Procedure. It’s your moment. You didn’t realize it during veterinary school, but you’ve been building to this moment your whole career. Without you, the tale would end too soon. You need to heal them up (or at least get close enough to healed to make it through their Big Goal).
a. Pain killers for animals aren’t any different than pain killers prescribed for humans. Dose makes the poison, as they say. Somewhere in between horse stuff and cat stuff will do fine. It’s not like you can make it any worse, right?
b. Sewing human skin works basically the same as sewing animal skin. You just won’t need to shave the area (as much).
c. If you say out loud, “I have to sterilize the area,” be aware that any of them with a bottle of alcohol will pour it in the wound while you’re looking for the medicinal stuff. (“I guess that’ll work” is a good answer if this happens.)
Rule 11. Gunshots are a special category all to themselves. Intricate rules you’ll need to be hyper aware of.
a. Assess whether the bullet came out of the body. (It’ll be in there. But still, important to check in case you get lucky.)
b. You’ll find a piece of the bullet and get it out right away. But there’s another one or two in there, a bit deeper. Always are.
c. Keep a metallic bowl next to you. Drop the bullet pieces in there as you go, from a high enough distance for that distinctive clatter. You know the sound.
Rule 12. Be ready for a “You’re Bleeding, Were You Hit Too?” This complication is most often seen with duos like Bonnie and Clyde. The seemingly healthy person will open their jacket or turn to the side or shift their weight and bam, you’ll see a big blood stain.
a. If the person feels inside their jacket and comes out with blood all over their hand, it’s the highest possible degree of dire.
b. Once confirmed that death is imminent in the room, be polite and turn away. These folk need their last moments together without a gawker.
Rule 13. We’ve Got Company. Occasionally someone else with a criminal history will come in right as you end The Procedure. Hopefully it’s not the main villain. If so, as a bit player in all this, you’re probably toast.
a. Listen to the patient. If they say take cover, then take cover. If they hand you a gun and say shoot, then shoot. If they say run, then run the hell out of the building.
b. The patient may get an additional wound during this attack. That’s okay. Just go back to Rule 10 and start a new Procedure. (This second Procedure may fade to black on you, but it’ll cut back when you’re finished.)
Rule 14. Sending Them On Their Way is as important as anything. You’ll have to tell them not to push it too much or they’ll risk re-aggravating the wound. They might ask whether “it’ll kill them” if they push it anyway. And if so, be honest. It’s important to foreshadow any potential depressing demise.
a. Give them more painkillers. Try something like “this won’t heal you, but it might keep you upright.” But make the line your own. Have fun with it.
Rule 15. Although unlikely, you may suddenly get a heartfelt thank you. Accept it with grace.
a. For the Bonnie and Clyde Wholesome Derivative, this thank you will probably be in the form of a big hug from the kiddo. Tell them to “keep an eye on their mom / dad.” The audience will eat that up.
Rule 16. Clean. This is the part no one seems to care about except us. But it’s necessary. I mean, there’s a damned crime scene in the back room of our veterinary offices.
a. Take all the trash to the Dumpster out back immediately. You don’t want any normal customers seeing bloody remnants in the waste bin while they’re worried about the squeeze toy their poodle just swallowed.
b. If a gun is left behind, wipe it down and place it in the top desk drawer with the others. We have a bit of a collection at this point.
c. If you stumble on a Sentimental Trinket, put it in the bottom desk drawer. That way, the morning shift vet knows where to find it if the patient comes back looking for it.
Rule 17. You can rest a bit now. But with the recent uptick in straight-to-streaming flicks, more visitors are likely. Your night’s probably not over.
Love this one!