Do not lie to cops; they don't like it.

Sigh.

(Nice way to start things, right?)

So I went to my last clinical for the semester on Thursday. My patient was awesome. I want to adopt her. And her husband. She's 71. They've been in love since childhood. I'm not talking even high school here. Childhood. Been married 50 years. Sometimes I think I may beat my brains out after talking to That Handsome Man I'm Seeing (THMIS) for 50 minutes.

So yeah, 50 years. They're besties.

She tells me, "We planned on retirement. we planned on vacations. We planned on building a log cabin (since high school!). We didn't plan on cancer". I'm dying. Big, fat alligator tears. In the hospital. With my patient.

I want to adopt her.

I leave the hospital, wishing I could write them letters becasue they are SO sweet. I go to my sister's (the incomparable Molly Marler of Pomp and Circumstance- and I'm sorry, I haven't figured out how to put this shit in here yet) because.. well, I really need a hug. And she gives damn good hugs.

I get my hugs. I laugh till I pee myself, then have to be excused.

On my way home, I pass one of those scenes you hear about in CPR class. Getting off the expressway, I see three people huddled in the road. Just standing there. Somebody says something about a dog being hit. I cuss, then see feet. Human feet. Shoes, really. But a person is in the road. Hit. And no one is on the phone. No flashing lights illuminate the confusion. Just three people standing over a body.

I pull over, and at this point a few more people are standing around. No one is on the phone. (How is that possible?!)

"Has anyone called EMS?" I ask (Jesus. Who am I? 1985? "EMS"? Really?! It's 911. Get it together Hannon!)

Dude says, "I have a phone".

SERIOUSLY?! Ya. You and the nine other people standing here. Use it!

I ask him to call 911.

Meanwhile, Mister Man is on the ground, writhing in pain. He's concious, knows his name, the date, and what happened. I'm asking him about his pain and somebody looks incredulously at me, "Are you a nurse?". This guy's jaw is on the floor. I haven't done a thing. Not really. And he's all wowed out. People are wierd.

I call Mister Man's daughter. And that sucks. There is no right way to say your parent/ child/ spouse/ sibling/ other person you love has beeen in an accident. And probably has a broken hip. I ached at the powerlessness and worry in her voice.

Anyhoo, eons later the firetrucks show up. And the ambulance. And the police. The paramedic was nice enough to make me not feel like an asshole for getting Mister Man's name, b'day, allergies and meds. Everybody else.... You'd think I had Ebola or something.

Oh! The best part: The driver tells the cop that the cyclist ran into the corner of his car. The guy in the car behind the driver tells the cop the driver full on pulled out into the cyclist as though he didn't exist.

Moral of the story: Do not lie to cops. They don't like it.

Moral #2: WEAR FUCKING REFLECTIVE SHIT AND A HELMET WHEN YOU RIDE YOUR BIKE!!!! Mister Man had none of the above on. I'm glad he had id. You should, too.

Moral #3: It emasculates the rescuers when they find out a girl has done all the awesome work.

So much for getting to ride the fire truck.

And #4: there are a lot of dumbasses out there. but you probably already know that.