Doctors And Insulin

I have a friend named Helen Kent. Who is snarky, unsophisticated, slobby, and still very very brave.
I was apartment searching about a month ago when Jen, probably tired of me mooching off her, told me about a friend of hers, who was sick and depressed and needed a doctor. Never meeting this friend before, I assumed she was old, and that pretty soon, I would have the apartment to myself. Barring a few haunted rooms.

But when I got to her little crappy apartment in San Fransisco, I found she was not old. But actually several years younger than me. She had very pretty blonde hair, but it was frizzy and unkept.

She was sitting on couch with her eyes closed. She didn't even move when we entered the room. She just sat there, (now I realize, probably taking a nap...duh), until Jen finally spoke up.

"I know you know we're here." Jen said. She looked like she was ready to flip over the whole fucking couch.

"Oh damn. I thought your eye-sight was based on movement only. Or am I wrong?" She had a reasonably thick english accent. I wasn't used to meeting English people and had a hard time not staring at there enormous teeth.

"Whose the old person." She pointed at me. "I'm old?" I thought,"Your the one sitting on the couch still as a fucking doorknob...prick."

"I brought you a friend. A doctor-"

"Nurse." Helen said.

"Yea right, whatever. Anyway, do you feel ok today? Cause you were kind sick yesterday." Jen said.

"Chest cramps. I'm fine. Piss off I just wanna sleep." I just realized Helen hands were shaking and she was tightly grabbing her chest. She looked like she was in quite a bit of pain.

"Your not fine. This is one of those times when you say you fine but you're lying."

"I'm not lying. I'm really fine." I may not be the best nurse in the world. In fact I kind of suck, but, Helen did not look alright. She was pale, shaking, and having chest cramps.

"Alright then. Get up and walk around. Do some jumping jacks, run a marathon. Go on get up!"

I'm actually quite glad Helen didn't get up, because if she did, she would probably fall over. Instead, she just kept staring at the ceiling. Her twitching was getting worse and she looked like she was struggling to breath.

I walked over to her and tried to feel her pulse. To which she responded:"Whatever she's paying you I'll give you double to go away."

"She's not paying me anything." I answered.

"Alright then I guess she's scrubbing the bottom of the bin trying to find me a roommate."

"I'm not the bottom of the bin!"

"Oh yeah of course, you were chucked away long ago. Take my advice and run away before she ropes you into buying a condo."

Helen's pulse was very low. 25 beats per minute.

"We should get her to a hospital." I told Jen.

"Neeeeee........" Came the weirdest ever fucking sound of of Helen's sound. It sounded exactly like a anorexic llama.

(You may by now be wondering how I can joke about my now close friend being sick? Well fuck you. Finish the damn story then complain.)

"I don't wanna go to a hospital." Even though I found this women pretentious, sarcastic, and a general ass-hole, she was really really sick, and if she died I probably wouldn't get the apartment.

"Jen can I have the moment alone with, um, tiny tot here?" Jen just walked out like she wanted to punch every person in the tri-state area in the face.

As soon as Jen shut the door Helen jumped off the couch, walked on top and over the coffee table, and stood facing me.

She wasn't pale and sick looking anymore. And I found, now that she was standing up straight, that she was quite taller than me to. She wasn't in pain either, and I was starting to get the impression she was just fucking with me, because (well...) that's the kind of person she is. But that didn't change the fact her pulse was low and she was gasping.
"But your-"

"Shut up. I'm talking. Got it?" I nodded.

"I'm guessing by that confused look on your face Jen didn't tell you what I do?" I shook my head again.

"I'm a police officer of sorts. I'm also kind of a detective. And a bit of a Doctor, so just keep quiet. I'm gonna explain, and your gonna nod like you understand, ok?" There I go again, nodding like an idiot.

"I assume, you can read?"Nodded again.

"Good. I like reading. It's fun. Basic point is, if your not living in a cage or illiterate or deaf you've heard of the string of murders in town?"

"Mmmh" I tried to say.

"Your off to a great start. To the point, what's connecting those murders are........." I didn't answer because she had her finger on my mouth."They all have diabetes. And what treats diabetes? Insulin. And how much Insulin is lethal?......A lot. They slip into a diabetic coma and boom! Dead fat people!"

She finally took her finger off my mouth."But why were you pretending to be sick?"

"To interview suspects! No-one talks to you when you tell them your police! I was going for Dr. Armstrong down at the hospital but instead she got you. Talk about laziness, she wouldn't even make the drive."

"You think a Doctor's drivin round San Fran killing fat people?"

"Not intentionally, but essentially yes. He's probably taking a cab...you know, to save gas."

"But how come I couldn't feel you pulse?" I asked her.

"Oh!" She pulled out an apple from her armpit and threw it at me. "I guess you've heard the old trick? An small, round, object under the arm stops the pulse. But I was breathing so heavily it came across as light.

When I was in medical school we had covered this. Sometime people would try to fake their death by doing this. They were always caught, we were Doctors after all. Didn't spend years in Medical school for nothing.

Helen didn't think this. According to her, everyone who was not her was stupid. And that was partly true, but since then, she has had a few contenders.

"So why don't you just go down to the hospital and barge in arresting people?"

"Don't you listen to anything? No one listens to police!" She yelled at me. "If they did the world would be so much easier. Prostitutes, drug-addicts, murders on the street, all waiting to be insulted."

(I know what you're thinking at this point. And yes, she is an asshole.)

"Ok then. Let's call the doctor, and fake you being sick again? I won't tell anything, I promise."

"Yeah whatever. JENNY!" Helen yelled really frickin loudly at the door and Jen came crashing through. Tripping over some boxes on the ground. After finally getting back up she stood there for about five minutes, (obviously confused), and finally said: "I missed something didn't I?"

Helen, walked over to the door, grabbed a brown coat off the wall, patted Jen on the shoulder, and said:"Come on! I got a good idea! Let's go to the Hospital!"

"But.....She'-"

"We'll explain in the car....I guess."

The car ride over was silent. After (of course) explaining Helen's plan and how badly Jen had messed up. We mostly just sat there. Looking out at the city and thinking about what could be happening now. Someone else could be dying. While we argued like idiots someone could be in pain, on the floor. In actual pain.

I wonder if Helen understood that? That people were hurting while she pretended to be sick? Probably not. Being a nurse was always hard, seeing people in hurt and sit there and tell them they'll be alright, when they really won't. Hope. That's what people need. I've seen a lot of hope in that hospital, and none of it made me any feel better.

It had been a while since I was at a hospital. I forgot how much getting used to it took. Every part of a hospital makes people feel sick, nauseous. But when you're helping people get better, it doesn't even cross your mind.

But we weren't there to help anyone. We were there to arrest a Doctor....for killing fat people. If it was accidental he would be tried with malpractice. But if it was murder......that would be even worse.

Helen walked up to the nurses desk:"Hello, I'm looking for Dr Armstrong. A case full of insulin and some handcuffs please." If I were the nurse, I would have punched Helen in the face. But then again, a lot of people would.

But before the nurse had the chance to sock her, Jen popped up behind her and flashed her police badge. The nurse rolled her eyes and called for Dr. Armstrong over the intercom.

She led us into the emergency room, (the room I was all to familiar with as a nurse already), and took us over to a man I instantlly reconised to be a very prominent politican....by which I mean I saw his face on a billboard above Taco Bell.

He was hooked up to an insulin feed and in what I guessed to be a diabetic coma. The Doctor attending at his bedside was very young.