Guns
So yesterday I worked. Work is good. I love my job.
My job as a nurse consists of something called "medical surveillance." Basically, we monitor the health of government employees who are exposed to occupational hazards and certify that people are "fit for duty." Occupational hazards might include exposure to meth labs, firearms, hazardous waste, explosion scenes, etc. Mostly we deal with federal law enforcement personnel.
Yesterday morning I did a physical exam for an ATF agent. Unlike most ATF agents, this guy was very unassuming, without the customary machismo of his colleagues. However, like most of his colleagues, he came to his physical armed with a handgun and ammo clip. I made a comment about his weapons as he took them off so I could weigh him. He launched into an "amusing" little story for me and it went like this: Back when he was working in Illinois, he investigated this "nut-job" white supremacist guy. This nut made an appointment with a plastic surgeon. His appointment was at the end of the day so he could meet with the doctor alone in consultation. During the consultation he pulled out a shotgun and murdered this plastic surgeon in cold blood, because the surgeon had been doing nose-jobs and giving Jews "fake Aryan beauty."
Then he proceeds to tell me how that murder stood out because of the randomness of it. How most murders are committed among family members, or over drugs.
So for the next couple of hours, I'm working with this agent, alone in the room with him and his Glock. And I look at the gun, from time to time, and I think about the destructive power of it. About how this guy could kill me, end my life, if he so chose. I'm not afraid. I know he won't hurt me. It's just this thing, this gun. This gun is such a strange thing. An object that people have invented and manufactured to cause death. Quick. They are so quick. There is no time to reconsider, once the trigger is pulled.
At the end of his physical, we're chatting a bit as I prepare an injection for him. I'm sitting there, tap-tap-tapping the syringe to remove the air bubbles, and we talk about crime and about criminals. And I tell him that I am such a bleeding heart, I can't believe that anyone is born bad. I always try to look beyond the action, however heinous, and see the underlying cause, because I believe that people are good. People are inherently good, unless and until something happens to take the goodness away. He says, "Some people are just evil. I've seen it. I used to be like you; it took about two minutes as a cop before I realized that some people are just evil." And the way he said it...I was almost convinced.
My job as a nurse consists of something called "medical surveillance." Basically, we monitor the health of government employees who are exposed to occupational hazards and certify that people are "fit for duty." Occupational hazards might include exposure to meth labs, firearms, hazardous waste, explosion scenes, etc. Mostly we deal with federal law enforcement personnel.
Yesterday morning I did a physical exam for an ATF agent. Unlike most ATF agents, this guy was very unassuming, without the customary machismo of his colleagues. However, like most of his colleagues, he came to his physical armed with a handgun and ammo clip. I made a comment about his weapons as he took them off so I could weigh him. He launched into an "amusing" little story for me and it went like this: Back when he was working in Illinois, he investigated this "nut-job" white supremacist guy. This nut made an appointment with a plastic surgeon. His appointment was at the end of the day so he could meet with the doctor alone in consultation. During the consultation he pulled out a shotgun and murdered this plastic surgeon in cold blood, because the surgeon had been doing nose-jobs and giving Jews "fake Aryan beauty."
Then he proceeds to tell me how that murder stood out because of the randomness of it. How most murders are committed among family members, or over drugs.
So for the next couple of hours, I'm working with this agent, alone in the room with him and his Glock. And I look at the gun, from time to time, and I think about the destructive power of it. About how this guy could kill me, end my life, if he so chose. I'm not afraid. I know he won't hurt me. It's just this thing, this gun. This gun is such a strange thing. An object that people have invented and manufactured to cause death. Quick. They are so quick. There is no time to reconsider, once the trigger is pulled.
At the end of his physical, we're chatting a bit as I prepare an injection for him. I'm sitting there, tap-tap-tapping the syringe to remove the air bubbles, and we talk about crime and about criminals. And I tell him that I am such a bleeding heart, I can't believe that anyone is born bad. I always try to look beyond the action, however heinous, and see the underlying cause, because I believe that people are good. People are inherently good, unless and until something happens to take the goodness away. He says, "Some people are just evil. I've seen it. I used to be like you; it took about two minutes as a cop before I realized that some people are just evil." And the way he said it...I was almost convinced.
posted by Juanita at
6:23 AM
2 Comments:
You know as I grow older I have found that some are - I mean how the hell could someone cut another womans child out of her womb and take it like they did TWICE here in Missouri. That has to be evil - pure evil.
It is a sad world that we live in- that we have to even ponder this question. Isn't it?
It is an alien concept to me, it still freaks me out if/when I see a cop carrying a gun on their holster. Other than a couple of hunting rifles way out in the nulla nulla I haven't ever seen a gun close up. I have never handled a pistol.
I remember as a medical student Steve** and I travelling together to our respective towns for our rural student placements, when we went thru TMON*. There is a tricky intersection on the highway, where you have to stop for local traffic (highway 1 apparently) and I didn't see this 4WD (SUV to you Americans) and so caused him to slow down. He then sped up passing me in the inside on the dirt verge, - doing a 180o and hurling abuse at me and Steve**. Steve suggested that if this was America then he would sort it 'cos he would have his gun, but was strangely silent when I suggested the nutter in the SUV would probably be armed as well!
Benedict
* The Middle of nowhere - take a map of Australia aim at about middle between east and west, and about 20% higher than the southernmost point of the mainland and you would be close...
** Steve has been mentioned on Bronze John's blog, and it is his real name - he would never consent to a pseudonym, possibly 'cos it is so Unamerican. (BJ and I still love him - he is our favourite little fascist)
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