Unfiltered Story #100034

, , | Unfiltered | November 18, 2017

(My sister has had a terrible few years culminating in her leaving the army due to “failing to adapt” to training in a combat oriented job despite having been told she’d just be a translator. She’s too empathetic for that kind of thing and the training was hard for her kind heart. Unbeknownst to my family, she became depressed.

But one day, she and I have an argument, and I get a weird feeling. I ask her if she’s going to hurt herself. I tell her if she ever does anything to herself, I’ll do the same to myself. Later I get a call from her saying she took a lot of Benadryl in an attempt to kill herself. I send her to the emergency room and follow in a car behind the ambulance. When I get there, I hear screaming behind the doors to the ER from the waiting room and I know it’s her but the receptionist pretends she couldn’t hear it. Finally I’m allowed back.)

Nurse, attempting to pin my sister to the medical bed: “You need to hold still and cooperate!”

My sister, shirtless, terrified and still drugged, crying: “No!” She sees me and cries, “[Sister], save me!”

I’m standing there helpless, at a loss, crying. My sister gently pushes the nurse off her and runs back to the bathroom to hide in the corner with her shirt clutched to her chest. The nurse tries to follow and I stop her. My sister just spent time in the military and in my mind it’s a miracle she hasn’t hurt this woman already.

Nurse: “She needs to change into a medical gown and get her blood drawn so we can see how much she took!”

My sister has a phobia of needles.

Me: “Let me talk to her.”

Nurse: “She needs to cooperate! Either I can do it or I can call an anesthetist. That,” she’s angry and ranting at me, “that is not the behavior of someone under the influence of Benadryl!”

Me, now angry: “No. That is my sister, and she is hurt and scared. Now you need to back off and let me talk to her. You said she needs her blood drawn? Just a minute. Stay out here.”

Me, coming into the bathroom: “I know you’re scared. That nurse is a f****** jerk, but you do need to have your blood drawn to see how much you have in your system. Either the nurse can draw your blood, or anesthetist can do it. Which would you like?”

Sister, shakily: “Anesthetist.”

We walk out and she lays down on the table and holds her arm out. I ask if it’s okay for me to hold her and she agrees, so I take her other hand and put my arm around her shoulders and she hides her face in my neck while the anesthetist draws her blood. That’s when the nurse finally seems to feel some sympathy for my sister.

However, when our family arrives and after the doctor is with my sister, she asks my parents a bunch of nosy questions and then asks why we didn’t see this coming. That’s when we finally ask to speak to the head nurse. I know that our worst day is the ER nurse’s every day, and I don’t know what the training is on handling people like that, but a modicum of empathy goes a long way with a lot of people even if they’re under the influence. A couple years later, my sister is okay now, and she knows we love and need her.