So there's this guy from the Prescott area and due to diabetes he couldn't maintain his landscaping business and so he's disabled. His SSI wasn't much so he lost his house. That story. Happens every day. Makes some people proud to be 'Murkin.
But then he lost his lower right leg. He still had surgical staples on his stump. He came to Phoenix because there are really no shelters in Prescott. Plenty of bars though, and the most beautiful town square in our fair country.
He was admitted for a complaint of "chest pain" which almost worked because he's already got about six stents in his heart but his ECHO was normal so I got orders to discharge him from the hospital...
To a homeless shelter. With fucking staples on his fucking stump.
Yay U.S.
*
(Photo from Daily Vexation.)
Oh and here's this weird little thing: I put a couple Percocets at his bedside so he could have some decent pain medicine before he left. (He was in the bathroom when I did that. I told him through the unopened door.)
He never ingested them even though he had complained of pain continually and he seemed to have had a preference for intravenous opioids. He left those two little white oxycodonic embryos right there in the tiny pill cup in which he'd also left a dime. It may well have been all he had to give.
(Cross-posted in The Crack Den.)
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