When you work in the ER, you take care of ALL KINDS of people. Old people. Young people, Black, white, purple people. Neurotic people and even some normal people. And you also take care of people who are on the bottom rung of our society.
Prostitutes. Junkies. Prostitute junkies. People who have sunk so low in life, that in order to support their habit, they stand on a street corner in the cold, waiting for someone to stop and give them 10 dollars for a quick you know what. Those guys on their way back to the suburbs to the wife and kiddies. Suburban Steve keeps the heroin flowing from dealer to junkie.
Then the prostitute junkie goes and buys that heroin and shoots up. They end with abscesses from sharing dirty needles They end up passed out on the street. Some "good samaritan" calls 911. They end up with me. Out of it. Barely able to stay awake to answer a few questions.
What are we going to do with them? Not much. Eventually they will come around, the junk will wear off. We'll give them a sandwich and send them on their way to start the whole thing again. Another day, another fix.