Nibble Nibble

Samuel is Doc’s most difficult patient. He’s a 60 year old African-American man who is obese and from Georgia. He’s been to our hospital many times to control his blood sugar. He’s been diabetic for 26 years now. Sammy’s chiming in right now. Let’s listen.
“I swear to God! Dem mice be bitin my butt all day! he yelled, staring at Barbara with his blood shot bug-eyes. Just 20 minutes ago, good ol’ Sammy accidentally smashed our charge nurse Betty in the face with his food tray after awaking in a frenzy claiming that a baby rat was firmly attached to his crack. Those were his words, not mine. Suffice it to say, Barbara nearly went into attack mode, quickly rolling up her sleeves mumbling something about “crazy old man”, and “really putting something up his crack”. I make my entrance and attempt to listen to Samuel’s story.

“So what seems to the problem sir, I say with a pressed deep voice, thinking that my 3 weeks experience as an intern makes me some sort of expert. “Lemme tell ya doc. Cummere. I gotta tell ya in yer ear.” I move in closer to appease him. After a few tedious seconds, I slowly turn my head to look at him, worried that something special was about to happen. Sammy was snoring and drooling on my freshly pressed white coat.

“Samuel”, I whisper not wanting to be his next culinary victim. My question was met with long snoozes. “Samuel!” I say with a bold voice, thinking that somehow he’ll come back to us. No response.
I turn my back to leave him be, and out comes a hand across my shoulder. “BAH”! He yelps as he pulls me down backwards into his lap screaming, “DEY BITIN MY ASS! BAH!”

Pulling away gently from his death grip, Sammy goes on to inform me about the mice that bring him misery. “Doc, this is how it all started. I be sittin in my chair at the place I be stayin at. It’s a place for people to stay when they aint got a home. We were watching Caliente on the Spanish channel when outta nowhere I felt these little teeth marks bitin into my butt. I said, “Goddam, dey be bitin me! Dis hurts yall! Everybody started laughing at me sayin’ I be seeing things that aint there. I tell ya, I can’t see em cause my eyes been doin funny stuff lately, but I can feel em, and when I catch em, Imma gonna squash em.” As he says that, he pounds his hands into each other and I take another step back. He went on to say that he paid 2 boys $20 each to catch the mice for him. Unfortunately, those boys had no intentions of catching any “mice” and ran with the money. “Everybody be getting on my nerves because dey don’t believe me. Do you believe me?” I took a cautious step forward.

Yes. I believe you. I’m sorry people are getting on your nerves Sammy, but I think your nerves have everything to do with what you are feeling. Thinking I just said something witty, I awkwardly smile and can’t wait to the other interns how cool I am. Getting back to business, I tell Sammy that his long standing diabetes may be the culprit and that in fact the “mice” he is feeling are actually his nerve endings spazzing out. Sammy gets up, with a look of rage in his eyes, and says, “You gonna get dem nice dat be on my nerves?!

“Yes, Sammy. We’re gonna go get those mice.”