posted on Aug, 10 2004 @ 07:45 PM
Nick awakens and looks around. There's a large sign on the wall that reads, "AREA 51." A masked man with goggles stands over him holding a pair
"What the...?" Nick gasped.
"Hold still there, Cowboy! I'm trying to suture this laceration on your forehead," the goggled masked man exclaimed.
"Man, I've got a terrible headache!"
"Yeah. I'm sure you do, but let me get this last stitch in and we can talk about it," the masked man replied.
"Who are these people?" Nick asked.
"These are my staff, now shut up and hold still or you're going to have a much bigger scar than necessary. This is only going to take about thirty
seconds. Got it?"
"Holy zits!" Nick's thoughts raced. "I can't believe what's happening to me. Can things get any worse? First, my parents find out that I
smoke Camels on the roof of the house and throw me out. Then, I have to get a job and pay my own rent, clean my own house, wash my own clothes, and
buy my own food. Now this! How much stress can a twenty-seven year-old dude endure in three months? What am I going to do to get out of this?"
"All right, Nick. We've got you all stitched up. How do you feel?"
"Not good. My head hurts. My neck hurts and I can't see out of my right eye. How did you know my name?"
"First things first, Nick. You were apparently in a pretty serious automobile accident. The paramedics brought you here on a neck board to patch
you up. You were unconscious upon arrival and immediately transported to radiology to get some pictures of your injuries. You're pretty lucky.
You've got a mild concussion, some contusions, including the black eye, and the laceration I just sutured. There are no fractures, but I suspect
that your going to have some serious neck pain for the next few months. I'll give you some prescriptions to help you deal with the pain and muscle
spasms, but the real medicine is going to be time. We'll refer you to several physical therapists and you can take it from there. Other than that,
your prognosis is excellent."
"Are you a-a-a-a scientist?" Nick stuttered.
"Well, I like to think so, but actually I'm Julio Suarez, MD, trauma specialist, but Nick?"
"How do you know my name?"
"Okay. Let's see," Dr. Suarez picks up Nick's chart. "You were in a single car auto accident that was reported at 0728. Paramedics arrived on
the scene at 0737. You arrived here at 0751 and I just gave you a run down on the rest. Your personal effects, including your wallet, are in this bag
and that would be how the paramedics knew which name to put on the report. Your next of kin, as listed on your ID, has been notified and I don't
have anymore information. Now, Mr. Gillespie?"
"What are you going to do with me?" Nick blurted out.
"Nick, I don't know how to tell you this, but?"
"Oh, God no!"
"Nick, my patience is wearing thin here; stop interrupting me. I'd give you a sedative, but it isn't indicated under the circumstances, unless I
have to give you one to keep you from harming yourself or others. Now, will you listen to me?"
Nick is weeping bitterly.
"Yes," Nick sobbed. "Doctor, I'm so scared."
"Nick, I'll make this as quick as possible. As a routine procedure, we take a blood sample from everyone who enters the trauma center. Nick, your
blood/alcohol level was .09%. You were legally intoxicated at the time of the accident. There are two Sheriff's Deputies in the hallway. They're
here to arrest you on the charges of Driving While Intoxicated. I'm sorry. I'll have to let them in now. You know you're lucky you didn't hurt
"Wait a minute, Doctor! Where am I?"
"You're in the trauma center of the Cherrywood Medical Center."
"Wait a second! Isn't this Area 51?" Nick cried.
"What?" The doctor walked back toward Nick.
"That sign! It says Area 51."
"Nick, this is the trauma area, Area 51. The waiting room is Area 50. The loading dock through those doors is Area 52. Now, Nick, if you don't
calm down, I'll have to sedate you. I'll get the Deputies, now. I'm sorry, Nick."
[edit on 2005/7/7 by GradyPhilpott]