Before I began my own rotation at Metropolitan E.R., a friend passed me a copy of Wiseman’s Hospital (70). I watched in awe as a man on mescaline was fed ipecac, projectile regurgitating for what seemed forever. He yells, “Somebody in the park gave it to me!” He begs the staff to play calming music. It is as hilarious as it is touching—particularly when played in one’s mind over “Yakety Sax.” Wiseman gives us such moments frequently, the gravity inextricable from the levity.
May 13, 2016