Well you see we had this kid, a deceptively angelic child who'd taken a bad turn after both his kidneys failed for some obscure genetic reason - and by the time he turned up on the godforsaken doorstep of the emergency department, his bad blood was obviously percolating with myriad disposable wastes that his temporarily malfunctioning kidneys had just refused to offload. So obviously drowning in gallons of urea and creatinine, he's more than a little deranged, drowsy and disoriented. Really, it's quite possible to fluctuate between the three. Still, he seemed relatively docile in between, answering in a suitably polite sotto voce when questioned and all.
Bad kidney be gone!
The Book of Revelations in the Bible says to beware of the Beast and his canny wiles. How terribly true. Similarly, the kid was suitably quiet and submissive till he arrived in the intensive care. Talk about awakening the beast by prodding it.
Blood taking is usual per new arrivals and we came over to him, explaining the minor procedure while preparing the local anaesthetic. And before you know it, the little brat opens his eyes, spews out his medication in a fit of blinding rage - and then out pours a filthy concoction of swear words, expletives and obscenities that even a crusty seasoned sailor would be proud of.
Fortunately I'd earlier ordered the doting mother out of the room for a moment while I finished my work, otherwise she'd be astonished to see her gently reared little darling cussing expletives that practically melted my ears - and probably seared the walls. And that was before he started trying out some of his crouching monster, hidden demon moves by attempting to launch himself into the air and helicopter-kicking the nurses.
If I wasn't cursing softly under my own breath - and struggling in vain to keep him still, I would have certainly found it secretly amusing. Here's this bucking bronco boy spewing out nasty profanities in much colourful detail ( seriously, there were characters, situations and subplots ) with me trying to keep my cool while the easily shocked nurses find themselves appalled - if not kicked into submission by his flying feet of death. One of his chubby fists even landed on my absentminded nurse's forehead leaving a pint-sized bruise. Fortunately she is used to wayward demonic children.
Honestly I half expected his head to swivel around 360 degrees ala Exorcist bad girl.
While I didn't have to resort to holy water and several verses of the Holy Book while subtly performing the sign of the cross, my nurses and I still had to try some WWF-sanctioned rough-and-ready methods to overpower the possessed creature of the damned before he threw himself off the bed. Endlessly patient exorcising reverend I am not. God would have forgiven us our many sins, I hope.
See why I'm glad my friends weren't around to witness my violent bar brawl with the pint-sized minion from hell? Still, he seemed to calm down a bit after we managed to clear him of his unearthly poisons with haemodialysis.