The Most Clever Gender

It doesn't seem to happen to women so much. I would even go as far to say that it may be a male genetic trait. If you are between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five, male and in hospital on a friday or saturday night, then there is a good chance you are an idiot.

Young Shaun had been having a good night out, until someone decided to smash a bottle over his head while he was walking home. "That's gonna need stitches" I said as I pulled the flap of skin back into place. I was examining the laceration on the back of his head and guessed three, maybe four sutures should do the trick. "Oh fuck, can't you just patch it, put a bandage on it. I gotta get going, I gotta get to bed." I shook my head. "Well, get on with it then, let's get it over with." Again I shook my head.

It was a busy Friday night and Shaun's wound would have to wait. Instead of suturing him up I placed some gauze over the wound and wrapped his head in a bandage. "I have some other jobs to do first. Shouldn't be too long" I said "What's your hurry. "I gotta go, I have to catch the last night bus home, I ain't got no money left" Shaun pleaded. He looked ready to cry. "I'll be back as soon as I can, don't worry, we'll sort you out" I promised and left to see my other patients.

Over the next half an hour I was approached four times by an increasingly impatient Shaun, desperate to get home. As drunk eighteen year old's go, Shaun wasn't too bad. He didn't swear too much, wasn't threatening, did as he was told, and wasn't bothering the other staff or patients and so I took sympathy on him. "Tell you what Shaun, if you wait until I can sort you out, I'll arrange for the hospital to pay for a taxi to take you home. We don't normally do this, but I can arrange it." Shaun didn't say antything, no `Thank you´ no sign of gratitude. He just shrugged his shoulders.

Half an hour later I returned to find Shaun's bed empty. The receptionist remembered seeing him leave out the main door, intent on walking home. Shaun was no longer my problem.

Half an hour later Shaun was brought in by Ambulance. "What the hell happened?" I asked Shaun as the paramedic wheeled him past me. "Got beaten up again" he said. That much was obvious as he now had two black eyes, swollen cut lips, and the bandage around his head was gone and his laceration was seeping fresh blood from under the paremedic's dressing.

Shaun waitied to be seen and treated this time. In fact he stayed with us the rest of the night and took up the offer of a taxi at seven in the morning, just as my shift finished.