by Shelia West

Created on: November 08, 2009

Elizabeth watched the police officer help the man into the emergency room. The old man could barely walk, but Elizabeth didn't think it was because of his age. He appeared to be pretty intoxicated, just plain drunk, to be honest. Elizabeth sighed. The holidays always seemed to cause people to drink even more than usual. And, unfortunately, that seemed to lead to an increase in business in the emergency room where Elizabeth worked.

She pulled a wheelchair away from the wall and hurried toward the two men. The young officer was having trouble keeping the old man upright. He smiled gratefully, if wearily, at her as she helped him lower the old man into the chair.

"Thanks. I don't think I could have held him much longer." He straightened up and removed his hat. "Do you think you could check him out? I found him in the park holding his stomach. It looked like he'd been sick to his stomach, maybe some bad food or something."

"Sure, no problem. We're a little short staffed because of the holiday, but one of the doctors will see him. I'll take him to a bed." Elizabeth smiled at the police officer, her eyes going to his name tag. "Officer Wilburn. I thought I'd met all the cops in this district. You must be new."

"My first week. I just transferred here from downstate." His eyes clouded slightly for a moment.

Elizabeth positioned herself behind the wheelchair and pushed it to an empty bed. She called out for one of the orderlies to come help and together they managed to get the old man onto the bed. He smelled terrible, but Elizabeth smiled at him as he looked up apologetically at her.

"I-I-I'm so sorry, Miss. I-I-I know-know I-I stink." The old man's hands trembled and a tear glimmered in his crusty old eyes.

"Don't you worry. We'll going to take good care of you, I promise. You just lay still and try to rest, okay?" Elizabeth began to unbutton the stained coat. She saw the officer and the orderly step back as the smell grew stronger.

"Why don't we just cut his clothes off? It'd be a lot faster and -" the young orderly began.

"No! No! You can't cut my clothes! This coat is all I've got!" The old man shouted as he tried to get out of the bed.

"Whoa! Take it easy." Elizabeth soothed the old man. "I promise I won't let anyone cut your coat." She turned to the orderly and directed him to go get a gown. "I can handle this, just get me a gown."

The orderly happily hurried away. To him, drunks were the worst kind of patients. Most of their problems they brought on themselves,

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