Back when my Father was doing his emergency department rotation as a lowly intern, he encountered a drunkard who had some how ended up with a very precise cut on his neck. It looked as though someone took a sharp object from behind and sliced him left to right. The wound required a layered closure which my Father was happy to repair; although his patient’s belligerence was keeping him from suturing. The injury was not life threatening but needed to be done.
My Father, being quick on his feet and tired of arguing with his patient, asked the nurse to get him another instrument from the other room. The nurse noticed that the instrument that he needed was already laid out on the tray in front of him. Dutifully, she left the room. Once she was out of sight, my Father tried once more to calm the drunk down to no avail.
The patient was simply not cooperating. Instead of wasting time debating with him, my Father hit the patient on the forehead with his elbow. It knocked him out cold. Why the elbow? My Father was already set up in a sterile field; his elbow didn’t need to be sterile.
When the nurse returned, without the instrument, my Father was almost done suturing the patient. She inquired as to the status of the patient’s consciousness. My Father said that he passed out from the alcohol. As he left the room, he asked the nurse to give him an ice pack for the goose egg on his forehead.