Ambulance cars line the streets outside of St. Paul’s Hospital’s emergency triage centre for those injured on the night of June 15. Photo credit: Andrés Goñi
Just because you can string an apologetic sentence together does not mean you are sorry. Perhaps I should make you aware of the consequences of your action. To you, it’s just an overturned car that you set on fire. To me, it’s walking into an overflowing ER and helping treat a girl with a severe asthma attack because she was exposed to the noxious, acrid smoke of a burning vehicle. To her, it was just a chance to be a part of a group cheering for her team. Little did she know that later on, we were thinking of sticking a breathing tube down her throat if her condition did not improve.
To you (yes, I am lumping you with all the douchebag rioters in the ER that night), it’s a chance to congregate in the ER waiting room, pounding on the triage window demanding to be seen for teargas exposure and cuts from looting and fighting, while posturing and bragging about how you kicked the crap out of somebody and smashed shit up. To me, it’s taking my time away from the little old quiet lady having chest pain or taking time away from the person you “shit-kicked” for trying to stop the looting.
To you, it’s just a fight. To me, it’s the ER social worker looking for a teddybear to console a 4 year old girl because she just witnessed her dad get a broken nose as he was trying to get his daughter out of the hotzone.
To you, it’s writing a letter saying “you will do whatever it takes to help clean the city.” To me, it’s walking home after a long shift and seeing all these people at 7:30 in the morning armed with garbage bags cleaning up YOUR mess and realizing that these people have more class in their pinky finger than you could ever muster in your whole life.
To me, it’s getting home to shower, only to have my elderly neighbour knock on my door and ask me if he should make an appointment to this doctor because he was experiencing shortness of breath which later turned to chest pain in the morning. He did not think about leaving his window open as he went to bed at 9 o’clock. The smoke from all the burning cars made it to our building, into his room and triggered his asthma, which then raised his heart rate, which then became a small heart attack. I asked him why he didn’t go to the ER, and he answered, “I turned on the tv this morning and saw the rioting, I did not want to be a burden.” To you, it’s just an overturned car that you set on fire.
Why am I blaming you for all this? Because you are the instigator. You ask people to leave your family, friends and co-workers alone?! I think they need to know how much of a colossal douche you are. Remember that your parents worked themselves to the bone so they can move to this country and give you your god-given right to flip cars over and set them on fire.
You, Tim Kwong, are a douchtard. Apology not accepted.
— from a E.R. nurse