CSI

So on Wednesday, I felt like I was on an episode of CSI. THREE times.

First, I was slated to co-present a leadership symposium from 8-10 a.m. We usually tag-team these events so we present a thorough and well-rounded presentation. So my counterpart and I sat down last week to figure out who was doing what in the 96 slide presentation. I had my slides and looked at them a few times before I went to bed this week.

I was ready to go.

Then he had to cancel, being pulled away from the accreditation survey. Another co-worker volunteered to help, only to be pulled away in management orientation. Completely alone, having to present a two-hour presentation to 124 people BY MYSELF was looking daunting. I have no problem presenting...but only when I've written the presentation and feel comfortable. This was someone else's presentation and I had only reviewed it in the haze of pre-sleep this week.

Fail!

So yet another co-worker volunteered to help and we ended up having three of us gut through the presentation. It went well, but could have been a lot better. Luckily, several high performers asked questions and helped us keep the presentation energized. While God totally kept us going for those two hours, it was the LONGEST two hours of my life. Well, maybe not my life, but definitely the past couple years. It was murder.

Once it ended and the accreditation stuff was over, I found myself with time to get caught up on emails and "real" work. After my derrier hit my desk chair, my pager immediately went off and scanning the screen, I saw it was one of my managers with a 911 call.

Fan-freaking-tastic!

So I dialed her number and found that a gunshot victim had presented to the Occupational Medicine clinic. Leaving a trail of blood through the clinic, he claimed the wound was an "impact wound" and that it happened at work (hence the Occ Med referral). When asked to fill out the workers' compensation forms, he admitted the wound was from a gunfight at work, that he had gotten into an argument with his boss and shots were fired.

[aren't you glad you don't work *there*?]

My manager, unsure of what to do, quietly called the cops (who didn't get the memo to cut the sirens as they approached the hospital) and wheeled the patient down to the ER. The patient needed surgical removal of the bullet and most likely, an inpatient stay with 24-36 hours of IV antibiotics.

I called surgery to check on the patient. They didn't have him yet. Then I called registration to see where he was in the process...getting ready? In holding? In transit? Nope, they did not even have him in the system yet. I scanned the lobby for a visual of the patient and did not see anyone remotely resembling the patient.

I then called the ER and learned the patient signed out AMA (against medical advice) and was hobbling down the highway, grasping his leg in agony. You cannot force a patient to stay in the hospital and despite our best attempt to treat the patient, he did not want to be treated. As long as it's documented, you're okay, legally. I think he was on the run from the cops.

Sometimes I feel like I'm working in inner-city Chicago. :)

I finally made my way home. I approached my front door and noticed a large blood spot on the storm door. A blood spot at about chest height! What the....?

Looking down, I spotted a mass of feathers. I deduced that a bird flew into my storm door (thankfully, not shattering it!) and fell to his/her death below. Then, apparently, someone came and had a bird feast, creating a storm of feathers. Let's just say I had to dispose of our Welcome mat...nothing says "welcome" like a mess of bloody feathers stuck to your mat!

And with that, I'm on unofficial retreat the next three days. Historically, I have taken Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday off from work. And I intend to do it again this year. Have a wonderful, blessed Easter!