C-P- aaaarrrrrrgh!

Ahoy Matey's

Tomorrow is officially Talk like a Pirate day!
And the other good news?
I have to go recert my ACLS!

So, lets go over some of the fine points, as mentioned in the famous book, C-P-Arrrrrgh for Peg-Legs, by the Dread Pirate Roberts, shall we?

Airrrrrghway: Has yer matey just fallen down from the mizzen mast? Need to be checkin' the airway? Pour a slug o' rum down his gullet. Does it go all the way down? Then ye have a patient Airrrrrghway, no worries!

Breathin'. Did he wake up and gasp when ye poured the rum? No? Try again. No? Arrrrr. best ye find a wench ta give the poor lad the kiss of life. Them other sailors might look at ye funny if ye do it yerself. If yer lucky, you'll have a sputum throwing RT in yer crew with a straw, so they can help ye with this. Bonus points if the RT comes with one of their famed harpoon's. Whale bladder's always come in handy as a "bag".

Circulation. Is your best matey's cold black heart still beatin'? No? This could be fun. Start poundin' away on his chest, make sure it's nice and deep. Remember that time when he took the wench with all the teeth, and left ye with the one with the Jack o' lantern grin? And the breath like sardine's? That's it, get mad, beat on that chest!

If ye have the treasure chest availiable to ye, start dragging out medications that don't fall under the category of 'grog'.

Yer mate has chest pain? Nitroglycerine is for more than making bombs to heave. Give him a squirt.

Symptomatic SVT? AdeNOOOO!sine. Wait fer it, wait fer it! Arrrgh! It was just a wee pause, see! That black heart can restart!

V-Tach? Weel, unless ye've got one of those fancy type AED's on yer Corsair, yer matey may be in trouble. However, a floating Waaaaaaambulance (Water Ambulance) will do. Electrocute yer mate as soon as may be, or get ready to feed him to Davy Jones' locker. If he does come back, consider some anti -arrrrrrghythmic's. . .

Does yer Captain's face look a little more droopy than usual? Is he winking at ye? (See, I told you not to give the kiss of life). Has he dropped his hook, and tripped over his own peg-leg? Have his arms gone adrift? Can he teach an old dog new tricks without slurring? (take into consideration how much Rum he has imbibed) Did he go to Glasgow, then become comatose? Arrrgh. Ye might be needin' that Waaaambulance fer yer Captain, as well. . .

Okay
enough
my brain hurts and this is getting more and more desperate as I think of ways I can talk like a Pirate tomorrow, and not get myself committed. This isn't easy, I found it much easier to compare the hospital to a zoo. Oh well, it was worth a shot. . .
arrrrgh, shot.
Sigh. I suppose I'll have to behave.