“I’m on the phone!”

We roll up on scene to find our patient standing outside on her cell phone. Figuring she’s still on the line with 911, we get out of the truck and approach her to see what the issue is. Something scared her enough, hurt her enough, or made her sick enough to want immediate evaluation. As my partner and I approach, we see she’s talking to her boyfriend, using the same attitude that would make your mother snap back, “Don’t you use that tone with me!”

“Ma’am? I’m P2P and this is Partner. Did you call for an ambulance?”

We receive a glance, before she goes back to arguing with the boyfriend. I give it about 30 more seconds.

“Ma’am?”

Then comes the eye roll. “Yes, hold on, I’m on the phone.”

After another 30 seconds of uncomfortably shifting around, I ask, “Ma’am, could you please put your phone away?”

Up comes a raised index finger, the unofficial sign for “Wait a minute, I’m too busy to be bothered with you right now.” Then a pair of incredulously raised eyebrows. And the hissed statement, “Would you shut up?! I’m on the phone!”

“Oh, my bad, ma’am. I’m sorry. See, when you called 911, we thought you had an emergency, so we came over to see if we could help. Because, well, that’s kind of our thing. Sorry to interrupt you. Is there a better time for us to come back? Like maybe, oh, never?” I replied, right before climbing back in the ambulance, leaving the supposed patient to finish her argument uninterrupted, and riding off into the sunset, never to deal with her again.

That’s not true, actually. That’s just what my brain fantasized about.

What actually happened? After asking if we would shut up, she saw the expressions on our faces, and the glance I exchanged with Partner. Then she huffed and mumbled into the phone, “I’ve got to go….” before hanging up. And then we went on doing our evaluating our patient, and doing the ambulance thing.

God. I hate patients on cell phones.