I’d be glad to help take the ‘me’ out of emergencies

There it is folks, the true definition of a much overused word. Somehow, over the years our society has become incredibly lame when it comes to true emergencies.

We’ve all watched the horror of the recent weather-related nightmares taking place right here in our country.

Children being wrenched from their parents’ arms during a tornado immediately comes to my mind.

Homes and entire towns being totally destroyed in a matter of seconds, family members missing for days only to be dug out of crushing debris weeks later.

To me, that’s an emergency.

Much to my disgust our oh-so-spoiled selves have succeeded in modifying this word, as well as the definition.

The new word? ME-mergency.

Yup, that’s right—the ME is right out there in front.Anyone who doesn’t have a huge appreciation of ER personnel should be forced to endure a week of what they endure, and I’ll just bet they’d be singing a different tune at the end of that long hard road.

There folks, is a job I could not, would not, should not ever be allowed to consider, because there’s no flippin way I could scrounge enough compassion to be civil to the ME-mergency patients, or the Memer’s, as I call them.

C’mon now, we all know a Memer or ten. They treat the ER like it’s their personal doctor’s office, and they go there for virtually EVERYthing, from a sniffle, to a hangnail, to a bit of a tummy ache.

These Memers totally feel they were born with the God given right to feel absolutely, totally, perfect each and every day of their lives.

Memers have zero pain tolerance, and they’re not ashamed to let everyone know it.

It matters not to them that the elderly gentleman occupying the next chair has been suffering debilitating chest pain for two days.

What does matter is that when the Memer awoke this morning he/she had an agonizing ache in his/her pinky finger, and it’s horribly unfair if the chest pain guy gets in first.

Afterall, his work life is probably behind him and he’s got all the time in the world.

But as for me and my pinky, well, it should be obvious to this entire staff, we are clearly more emergency-worthy than the stoic suffer-in-silence types.

The Memer NEVER leaves the premises without complete x-rays, body scans, and of course, a script… for something—anything. Bring on the placebos docs, these people are relentless.

On second thought, I’d like to step up to the plate here.

I’ll take that unpaid week in the ER, but only if I can be the greeter/bouncer. It certainly doesn’t require a medical degree to weed out the Memers and I just know I’d be darn good at it.

I can spot ’em a mile away and you can rest assured their wait for unneeded medical attention would be a very long one.

Truly? We cannot totally blame the politicians, or Congress, or the sometimes grossly overpaid medical supply folks for the steady decline of our health care system in this country.

Let’s take a peek at those who abuse the system so ridiculously each and every day because they’re sad, or angry, or “depressed,” or anxiety ridden.

“A body at rest tends to stay at rest, a body in motion tends to stay in motion.”

Basically, ya can’t kill what won’t lay down, so whattya say we all try a little harder to stop enabling the crybabies.

Any hospital out there willing to give me the opportunity to clean up your ER in a big fat hurry? I’d be thrilled to challenge those Memers with a simple little “What does Emergency mean to you?” quiz.

My money’s on ME folks, and yours should be too. They’re just gonna continue to wreck it for the rest of us—the ones who carry on despite aches and pains—the ones who sit like rocks in ER’s everywhere, bleeding internally, while that pressing pinky issue gets resolved.

Back off Memers: you’ll be forced to jog around the hospital—TWICE—on my watch. THEN it’ll be your turn. Bet ya won’t be crying about that pinky when you’re done…