Lindsay Lohan Brought To Emergency Room Unconscious

The clock on the emergency room wall read 2:32. That was 2:32 on Sunday morning, September 17th, 2006. This was one of two emergency rooms of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. One emergency room was for the publicity shy emergencies, which were celebrities, the other was for everyone else. But when Harry Morton made a turn onto George Burns Road off Beverly Boulevard, he mistakenly followed the directions to the wrong emergency room, the one for the common folk like you and me. In the back seat of Harry’s black Mercedes Benz SUV was Lindsay Morgan Lohan. Lindsay was unconscious and breathing heavily. The heavy breathing was comforting to Harry. At least Lindsay was breathing. She was alive. And here he was at one of the best medical facilities on the planet earth, so this was all going to be OK. But when Harry pulled up to the front of the emergency room, and ran inside to announce what he had in the back seat, he immediately realized it was the wrong emergency room, the one that was crowded and open and without any security barriers protecting late night celebrity visits.
What the two male nurses found in the back seat of Harry’s car was a white girl with long black hair in a white bra, the strap hanging off her right shoulder. The girl was wearing fayed blue jeans, the zipper half-way pulled up exposing pink underpants. The girl was lying on her side and the long disheveled black hair was splayed all over her face and back seat. The girl’s right arm was hanging off the seat, her left arm pinned under her motionless body.
One of the nurses. Mario, took a pulse and then started to drag the body out of the car. The male nurses on employ were large and could pretty much handle any unconscious body, no matter how large and heavy. But this one was maybe 100 pounds, at best, much of the weight located in the large breasts. The girl’s feet were bare and appeared to have dried vomit on them. As they dragged the girl out of the back seat by pulling on her legs, the hair fell back off the girl’s face. Mario saw an open mouth with dried vomit on the cheeks and eyes that were oddly half open, though the girl was clearly unconscious.
“Is she OK?” asked Harry.
“I do not know,” said Mario.
Mario picked up the girl who was top heavy and with the assistance of the other male nurse, they placed the unconscious girl on a gurney. Mario was a tad rough with the maneuver, purposely, seeing if the girl could be jostled awake. But it did not happen. She was as limp and cooked cappelini, and when the girl settled on her back on the gurney, her bra partially fell off exposing her right breast, which bounced like Jello as Mario pushed the gurney quickly through the emergency room sliding glass doors. Harry Morton followed from behind.


Harry Morton was not happy that Lindsay Lohan’s unconscious body, not to mention her exposed breast, was being publicly wheeled through a common area of the emergency room. He expected onlookers and photographers and a crowd to gather around his famous girlfriend. But oddly, no one noticed. Everyone seemed to be in their own world of pain and misery, doubled over, holding their arms, blood on shirts, head bandages. Lindsay Lohan with her long black matted hair with one arm dangling off the side of the gurney as it was pushed attracted on one�s attention.
Mario wheeled the gurney into a side room and pulled the white curtain that was suspended on an aluminum track hanging from the ceiling. Harry walked through the curtain.
“The doctor will be here in a minute. What happened?” asked Mario.
“Well, she slipped and hurt her arm and then — “ said Harry.
Mario glanced at the girl’s arms. The left one dangling off the side looked bruised and slighted bent.
“This arm?” asked Mario.
“Yes,” said Harry.
“She does not have any bruise to her head. Any idea why she is unconscious?” asked Mario.
“Well. Well, you see, she was, well, she was drinking and got a little sloppy. And then in the bathroom she fell. She was unsteady. And that�s when she hurt her arm. She said her arm hurt and she wanted something to get rid of the pain,” said Harry.
“And you are? A relation?” asked Mario knowing full well he was not any relation. By this point, Mario had recognized the girl on the gurney. It was Lindsay Lohan. It was an easy ID once you spent a moment with her. But quite frankly, the girl looked so filthy and trashy that one would miss that a famous and glamorous movie star was lying unconscious on this gurney. Also, Harry, the idiot, brought Lindsay into the wrong emergency room.
“Just a friend. I’m just a friend,” said Harry.
“OK. I will get the doctor,” said Mario as he left through the curtain leaving Harry Morton and Lindsay Lohan alone.
Harry glanced around and saw he had a few minutes. He quickly searched Lindsay’s jean pockets. Her left pocket is where he found it. Lindsay had taken to carrying around the small solid gold vile Harry had given her for the purpose of storing an “on the road” stash of cocaine. In the mad rush to get Lindsay to the car and then to the hospital, he had forgotten all about it. Carrying the unconscious Lindsay Lohan was not as easy as one would think. Though slight, her sizeable breasts and the huge head of hair made the whole move quite awkward. And he was afraid he further damaged the arm when Harry through her into the back seat of his Mercedes.
Harry removed the gold vile filled with cocaine from Lindsay’s left jean pocket and tucked it into his own pocket. Anything else he forget? Think fast, thought Harry.
Dr. Sarah Sheehan walked through the curtain. She was wearing a white gown which was open exposing black slacks and a navy blue blouse, as well as black Nike tennis shoes.
“Hello. I am Doctor Sheehan. So I got some of the story. What did she take for her pain?” asked Dr. Sheehan as she took Lindsay Lohan’s pulse from Lindsay’s left arm that dangled off the side. As Dr. Sheehan took the pulse she visually examined the bruises.
“Well, doc, I told her that they were strong, you know,” said Harry. Should he tell the doctor? And how would he explain how the pills were there. Should he tell her? Damn. Harry had to think fast. But he was good at this. He was good at this.

Dr. Sarah Sheehan filled a hyperdermic by stabbing a small glass bottle with the needle.
“I am going to wake her. So tell me, what did she take for her pain? I need to know right now because I am giving her this medication and I do not want it to ract poorly with what she took,” said Dr. Sheehan.
Yikes. Now Harry Morton had to be honest. If he told the doctor a lie, and things went poorly, then he would be responsible. Dammit. Maybe she won’t give a shit where he had gotten the pills. Hell. Just be honest. There are times when you have to be honest.
“Oxycontin,” said Harry. There he said it. But he was not going ot tell the doc about the cocaine. That would be a mistake. She would have to report that one. But they won’t pick it up. The Oxycontin wold cover any sign of cocaine.
“Strong stuff. But this will wake her,” said Dr. Sheehan.
Harry did not know that Dr. Sheehan already suspected it was some kind of narcotic and that what she was giving Lindsay Lohan would not create a problem.
Dr. Sheehan jabbed the needle in Lindsay’s arm and pushed the plunger of the stimulant into her. A huge lungful of rancid air came out of Lindsay’s open mouth with a gurgling sound, as if the air pushed through mucus.
“Where, what, owwww, my arm,” said Lindsay Lohan as she stirred on the gurney.
“I think the arm is broken. We’ll have to take an x-ray. Hi. I am Dr. Sheehan. Your name?”
“What? My name? Is Harry here?” asked Lindsay, her eyes barely open because the lights were bright.
“Yes. I’m here,” said Harry.
“Your name?” asked Dr. Sheehan, who already knew who it was.
“Lohan. Lindsay Morgan Lohan,” said Lindsay.
“Well Lindsay, it appears you may have broken your arm. And it also appears that you have been combining a narcotic with alcohol. You shouldn’t do that. You came in here to the emergency room unconscious but with a strong heartbeat. And you are OK. But you should consider yourself lucky,” said Dr. Sheehan.
“Narcotic? I don’t take narcotics,” said Lindsay.
“Your friend here, Harry is it, said you took Oxycontin. That is a very strong and addictive narcotic,” said Dr. Sheehan.
Dammit doc, thought Harry Morton. Did she have to get into this right now. He had introduced Lindsay to Oxycontin a few months ago, and he never fully explained to her that it was sort of a narcotic. But then, Lindsay was not stupid. She read the label. She could read. Harry was sure she had Googled “oxycontin.” It’s not like he was trying to pull the wool over her eyes. Although, he did tell her it that it was no big deal. Of course, he did not really take it. Oh, he told Lindsay he took it when she popped a pill or two. But he didn’t. Harry did not want to get addicted. He knew the stuff was strong. And the whole purpose was really to addict Lindsay. Well, not rally to addict her. Just to control her. To make her want Harry around. And so far it was working. In fact, he could not believe how well it was working. The sex games, the drugs , it all was keeping Lindsay Morgan Lohan close to him.
“Can I get this x-ray like now and get out of here. I want to go home and sleep,” said Lindsay. She was starting to wake up.
Good. Harry saw that the word “narcotic” had not fully landed in Lindsay’s brain, and she was already on to the next topic, which was to move on, get out of where she was, and find some new place to rest and make believe she was healthy.
“I want to take a shower. I have to wash my hair,” said Lindsay.
Great. Great. Now Lindsay was thinking purely of how she looked. The whole talk of drugs is history. At least for now.
“OK. I’ll have the nurse come in to prepare you for an x-ray. But I am gong to have to admit you for one night. You can have a private room. It is very private. And you can take a shower there,” said Dr. Sheehan.
“Thanks. Thank you so much, Doctor,” said Lindsay.
“You’re welcome,” said Dr. Sheehan, who then turned and walked out through the curtain, leaving Lindsay and Harry alone.
“You OK, sweetheart,” said Harry.
“No, asshole. I am not OK. I feel like shit. My arm is killing me. And I am here, back in the fucking hospital,” said Lindsay.
“I love you, Lindsay. And I will take care of you. I will make certain that you get out of here looking great, and you will have like a little cast or bandage on your arm and it will look like a fashion statement. It will be cool, with your long black flowing hair and great clothes with a little wrist cast. The media will love it and think you are strong,” said Harry.
“You think?” asked Lindsay.
“Leave it to me, baby. You will come out of this looking better than before. You are strong. And you are beautiful,” said Harry.
“And talented,” said Lindsay with a smile.
“Of course. And talented,” said Harry.