During one of those nights at work where you swear the clock has gone backwards at least twice, I get this call from my control room officer. "Uh, can you go back into the infirmary? I'm pretty sure they have a problem back there." Not good.
I find one of our jail medics with a female having a possible stroke. After notifying one of the on-duty supervisors and the control room we prepare for transport to the hospital. Five minutes later the supervisor calls me on the radio. "Can you bring her down to receiving?"
"Do you need the fire department to bring you anything?"
"A cot would be nice."
They arrive. With splints and a c-collar.
"Do you guys know something we don't know?"
"What do you mean?"
"This is a possible stroke."
"Yeah, your Sgt. definitely just told us we needed to bring the c-collar."
"No. The cot. Cot, c-collar, similar but no."
Sometimes I think I'm talking to myself at work . . .
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