Tiny Dancer

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Tiny Dancer – A Mongo Memoir

Here is another installment to Mongo Memoirs. This story I am calling Tiny Dancer. This story is one of my favorites. Tiny Dancer is a story about Ballerina.

The cast of Characters (all names changed as usual):  Mongo (me), Ballerina (patient), Jackson (my partner), Random Police Officers, Agitated RN, and Salty the Security Guard.

I met Ballerina late on a very cold night many years ago. Ballerina has a special place in my heart for various reason; most notably, her passion for self-expression.

My encounter with Ballerina started off peculiarly. We were called for a “disturbance” at a home. Now, at this time of night that usually means someone had too much to drink and lost their filter, but not in this case. Ballerina apparently needed a certain amount of pharmaceutical management to keep things – shall we say, “calm”. Not criticizing anyone who needs or takes medication; just take it and take it like you should.

My partner Jackson and I arrived at Ballerina’s home and I knew something was awry when I met two officers exiting the residence laughing hysterically. Oh boy, here we go. I walk into what would be the living room of Ballerina’s home and I am immediately met by a man (presumably Ballerina’s husband, but I never saw him again) holding a camcorder, filming something happening behind me. camcorder

As I turn I see Ballerina for the first time. Ballerina is performing her best rendition of a striptease – still fully clothed though.

I don’t recall asking too many questions – I mean really, what’s the point? I can clearly see we have a problem Houston. I look at the Officer that remains in the house and he just shrugs his shoulders and points to “husband/boyfriend”. I look over at husband/boyfriend and he states, while still recording, “she’s crazy” and “not taking her medication”. Now, I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer but I can clearly see Ballerina is having an “off” day, but that really doesn’t help me much. Husband/boyfriend never stops recording long enough to tell me anything other than the previously useless information.

So, we gather up Ballerina as best we can; all the while continuing to dance, unfazed by the fact that she is earning a ride to the hospital for what will be a very long night.

Where the real fun begins is in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Looking back on this, it would have been a very good idea to have another person in the ambulance box with me; if for no other reason than to protect Mongo from Ballerina.

Now, it hadn’t come up until we relocated to the ambulance because Ballerina was so oblivious to our presence that she never said a word – but Ballerina does not speak English. Oh, my life. The English that Ballerina seems to know is mostly inappropriate for many of my readers. Oddly enough she was good at asking “Do you like”? Whoever is responsible for ensuring Ballerina is adapting to America – FAIL

Once we all got past the language barrier with some basic hand gestures, which mostly consisted of Mongo swinging the index finger and exclaiming “No”, we started to make some progress. By this time we were on our way to the hospital when things started to get WAY out of control. Ballerina was no longer going to behave. Any item within reach was fair game, and if it was not bolted down Ballerina had it in her hands.

It was clearly Ballerina’s first time ever in the back of an ambulance. As Ballerina reached for several different things there just wasn’t much I could do about it, so for a few minutes, I just let her look around and examine things she found interesting. As I placed a blood pressure cuff on her arm in order to obtain her vital signs, Ballerina became quite fascinated with the pump of the cuff that dangled below her arm as I finished taking her blood pressure.

Following the circus of object fascination in the back of the ambulance, it should have occurred to me to remove the blood pressure cuff as soon as I finished – But, NO – I had to leave an open invitation for Ballerina to molest my blood pressure cuff. What happened next is one of those things you just can’t unsee. Ballerina apparently had a little fascination with objects that, in her mind, resembled human anatomy. She quickly grabbed the pump/bulb of the blood pressure cuff and began to rub it erotically across her lips while speaking her favorite American phrase – “Do you like”?  I responded, “No, Ballerina, that is not appropriate and stop doing that”. That was the best I could do. I recall that at one point, the pump, which is rubber, made it just a little too far into Ballerina’s mouth, which must not have tasted very good because she puckered, squinted, and dropped the pump back to its original location. Thank God.

Following the blood pressure cuff molestation, we were nearly arriving at the hospital. I had tucked the blood pressure cuff back in its place, secured any other items that might be unsuspecting targets for Ballerina, and moved myself to the end of the bench to avoid putting myself in any “peculiar” situations.

Safely arriving at the hospital we wheel Ballerina into a room and were greeted by an agitated nurse, reminiscent of a lady called Ratchet. Clearly, it has been a long night in the ER and is about to get a little more interesting for our nurse.

We place Ballerina in a room, provide a quick history of our patient – which, was really quite difficult for me. I mean, how do you explain to a nurse that your patient molested the blood pressure cuff?  You don’t! So, I did my best and alerted the nurse that she better keep an eye on the patient and keep sharp objects, tools, anything with a handle, or pretty much everything out of reach of Ballerina or they will likely have a problem. The agitated nurse looks at Ballerina, and it must be a female thing because without even a spoken word Ballerina seemed to understand that she better just sit quietly. I urged the nurse one last time that she should have someone nearby to keep an eye on Ballerina because she was quite impulsive. The agitated nurse seemed to get my point and called for Salty the geriatric security guard – Oh boy.

Being quite relieved to be finished with Ballerina by turning her over to be someone else’s problem, I helped Jackson, my partner gather up our things, collect our paperwork, and put fresh sheets on our cot.

Just as we were nearly out the door, I hear a commotion coming from the area where we just left our Ballerina – rut row Shaggy. Both Jackson and I must have been simultaneously on the same wavelength, because we both quickly turn around and peek around the corner where we see Salty the security guard looking into Ballerina’s room and shouting “This is an Emergency Room, you can’t do that in here”About that time Ballerina is exiting her room, dancing while rubbing a sheet between her legs.

I don’t recall having laughed so hard at someone else’s misery before this or since, but it was quite a relief that it was someone else rather than Mongo. On a side note, Salty the security guard never left his chair while Ballerina performed her dance 🙂

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  1. This might be the best post yet! This doesn’t sound to unlike some of my night shifts! I may have met Nurse Rachet and Salty security too. Oh if people only truly knew😀

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