woman in tight, white, improperly-undergarmeted t-shirt, huffing like she had just climbed Everest, and holding the remnants of her extinguished cigarette (which I assume she was saving for later): "we need help" as you are saying this in your head, you should use the countriest accent you can muster and pretend you are missing a few teeth, just for authenticity.
oh-so-helpful-compassionate-check-in woman* (*who had watched me struggle in the door with crying baby, diaper bag, purse, and a pile of x-rays and not offered to help. said woman now on my hit list) "what's the matter" say this in disgusted-I-want-to-go-home tone.
woman: "them kids was playin the damn sparklers in the yard and the dog, trying to git the sparklers, got hold of Timmy's hand and gnawed it all up."
sure enough, i look over and see timmy (who is probably 4) holding up his finger, which is dripping blood on the waiting room floor. i'm pretty sure i could see the bone and IT WAS NOT EVEN WRAPPED UP!!! Check-in woman did not skip a beat before she said "can I make a copy of your insurance card?".
If you are worried about our visit, it was in relation to the children-only stomach bug lingering over here. Sweet Lilah was feverish and super unhappy, and none of her doctors pull any punches in her treatment. I am considering it a hugely successful day because we didn't have to arrive via ambulance (2 prior times is plenty for me, thanks), we got to go home, and she is sleeping peacefully now!!!