This is an I-Heart podcast.

Guaranteed human.

I don't care about your heart attack.

My son's finger has a booboo!

Not the bobo.

It was another wondrous day in the emergency room.

People running wild trying to keep up, frantic health employees talking over each other.

The emergency room is a mixture of very severe patients in real

risk of dying and patients who really don't have an emergency, but they like coming in here

for who knows what reason and everything in between. Just to be seen and loved. My Fingi deserves

validation. Now, we had a 23-year-old male who dislocated his index finger in a sporting competition.

He had nine other working fingers.

Bro, this man's fine.

He came in accompanied by his dad, the main antagonist in this story, foreshadowing.

We attended to the son, and since we are an expensive private hospital,

we called the orthopedist to come down and fix his finger. Meanwhile, the lad was given a painkiller

to help with the pain while he waited for a few minutes for his specialist to arrive.

That sounds like everything's going to plan. Everything is going swimmingly so far. As if on Q, in comes a man with horrendous chest pains.

And here's the thing.

In the emergency department, we treat every single chest pain as guilty of being a heart

attack until being proven innocent.

So basically, like, we just assume it's a heart attack from the jump.

...