Posted by: Kate | January 3, 2007

To the Sanctimonious Little Snot in the ER

Dear Mike,

I understand that, seeing as how you are six inches taller than me and in much better physical shape, not to mention blessed with a brand-spankin’-new bachelor’s degree that is eight whole years younger than mine and therefore much more aerodynamic and svelte than my poor sad old degree, which is so helplessly buried underneath three master’s degrees and the better part of a doctorate, clearly you must know better than me about almost any topic on the planet.

But when it comes to the psychiatric hospital system in the state of New Hampshire, my friend, my badge trumps your cell phone. You’re welcome to call as many supervisors as you want, but I am not easily intimidated and your righteous anger will not convince me that I should lock a 40-year-old mentally disabled man up in the state hospital simply because he has an ear infection and needs some rest. I understand that he is acting out and has actually thrown things and hit people, and that’s upsetting and sad for everyone involved. But he’s in pain, and when you have an IQ of 65 it’s a bit of a challenge to announce, “Oh, by the way, I’m feeling a touch of discomfort, might someone be willing to load me up with codeine before I get frustrated and angry?” Help him manage his pain better, in his own house, with his own care providers. Don’t try to force me to send him an hour away from home to be surrounded by mentally ill strangers.

And don’t suggest to me that I am punishing him in any way. If the word “punitive,” which you might well have learned just this morning from your word-of-the-day toilet paper, escapes your lips in my presence once more today, you may end up discovering just how effectively a clipboard can be used to hamper one’s train of thought.

You may now return to your regular life, and be superior to me in every other way. But you will not win this round, son.

With deep regret,
The Mean Woman in the ER



  1. oy. I am with you in spirit, Mean Lady. I feel much the same when speaking with the whole of DSS…

  2. You called him “son”. You’re old.


  3. What?! 3 Master’s degrees??

  4. You are so very wise.

  5. You go girl!

  6. Sic him, Kate! It’s nice to see that someone is willing to take a fiercely compassionate stand for those who can’t – and how efficiently you’ve done it! You rock.

  7. Well, yeah, I am old… but this pipsqueak was about 12, so it wouldn’t have been THAT much of a stretch. My mother was younger than I am now when I was 12… oh my.

    Anyway. I literally had to take a 10-minute break from dealing with the Snotty Brat, go blog him out of my system, and then finish the assessment. Better here than in his face, methinks…

    And yes, N. Three master’s degrees. I have problems.

  8. Good for you!

  9. Three Masters’? Jeez – no wonder you aren’t that into finishing that dissertation – you’re exhausted! Next time anyone tries to tag me as an overachiever, I’m sendin’ ’em your way.

  10. Wouldn’t you love to read HIS blog entry?

  11. I would love to read his blog entry. I bet it has a lot of small, misspelled words. And exclamation points.

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