So no matter what any one tells you, or what you tell yourself...to be a nurse, you do have to have some form of a caring and compassionate bone in your body. Hey now, no one said it has to be a big one. My bone changes shape and size daily. "No its not a boner. Its an optical illusion. Its the pattern on the pants." Sorry, I just couldn't resist the opportunity to quote the all-knowing Ron Burgundy. Anyway, Ms. Liz-on-a-tangent as usual, it will take me 10 minutes to say something that only takes 30 seconds. (Shut up you are used to it.)
SO, as I was saying. It never ceases to amaze me how helpless people become once they set foot into a hospital. There are varying degrees of helplessness. Those who truly are helpless and need you. This is the person who is so sick and weakened that you will wipe their ass for them, repeatedly. You will sweat in the isolation gown while giving that ass a good wiping with C.Diff up to your elbows, and maybe even in your eye, all the while praying to the GI Gods that those bacteria DO NOT find their way into you. Eek! This leads me to one solitary thought...which is going to take me off on a tangent but bear with me. Okay?
I have yet to put in a tampon. Only because I'd have to have bilateral above-the-wrist amputations before I would even think about letting someone else do that deed. Hell, I might even get my stumps all bloody trying to do it myself after the amputation. Then cry myself to sleep in a rumpled pile of shame. This leads me to another thought. What is up with all the women who come in swearing they have something up in their vagina?
This always results in what we call a "vag-exam", or "vag-a-cizing". Often we come up from the trench with a quizzical look upon our faces whilst empty handed. Then the chick almost always still SWEARS there is something in there. I think we should just diagnose that as "phantom tampon pain." Or the other alternative is just bring something in your pocket and pretend like you took it out of the chicks vag. I can see it now, "Oh look a bunny!" "A quarter" "A deck of cards!" Then recommend they stop dating magicians. Yeah, that works.
Alright, back to being helpless. So yes, there are those who are truly helpless and you'd do anything for them. Then there are the FAKERS. Fakers are the worst. There are those who you see walking up to the big glass doors in the lobby like any one would. Then, right about the time they think they are in your line of vision start moving all slow and zombie-like, maybe drag a foot, limp, drool. Maybe all 3 for extra effect. Annoying.
This is usually the person who is most likely to escalate their scene in the lobby when there is a long wait and do something like throw themselves onto the floor or pretend to pass out. These in a strange way are sometimes entertaining. My favorite is when you call them out on their shit and they open their eyes and look at you and say, "I'm sorry." This is when they know you are not to be fucked with. There is also the person who seems totally fine and probably shouldn't be in the ER at all but for what can be so many reasons that I won't even get into...here they are.
Suddenly this person's 8 million problems are now YOUR problems too. Really they aren't but this person wants them to be yours. "How will I pay for this medicine I don't have any money?" (The medicine cost 4 dollars.) Meanwhile, this person wants to go outside every 5 minutes to smoke a cigarette and hasn't stopped talking, texting, and photo documenting their whole ER visit on Facebook since the moment they arrived.
Literally, this has happened to me, this patient who suddenly somehow made it to the hospital has no ride, no money, no home, no food, no future, but wait... "Do you care if you are in this picture I am going to put of you starting my IV on Facebook?" They are wearing gobs and gobs of jewelry, expensive clothes, shoes, always have an iPhone. I don't care if you got that shit at the flea market, unless you stole it, it wasn't free. This is when I give the hater stare and walk away.
Then there are those who are appreciative of everything you are doing, and you know it. So for some reason, you will do nice things for them. It just amazes me though. Once their ass touches the gurney they are helpless. This person is not too ill, but just has some sort of fine-tuning type shit going on where maybe they have to stay in the hospital overnight. No big deal type stuff. This person does everything independently. Gets up to the bathroom on their own and the whole nine. You know, doesn't require much.
Yet for some reason. When sitting on the gurney they are powerless and expect you to do everything for them. Like, "Can you fix my blanket?" "Can you fluff my pillow?" "Can you dial the number for me?" This is when I politely remind the person that they are a grown, independent, adult and I will not enable their helpless behavior when they are request I do things that they are capable of. Really though, in my head, during all that bullshit, what I am really saying is, "Fluff your own fucking pillow!"
Never date a Magician.
Duchess: "What do you mean you don't take euros in America? If your dumb American ass knew how much money I just handed you..you would pay for my Filet o' Fish with your own money and put my Euros in your pocket. Then head immediately to the nearest currency exchange. Then you might purchase some of my many books and films which have been acknowledge by superior minds"
Ahhh, I interview people like this at triage in the ER all the time. Trying to get this person to focus is the most circular-nonsense-jibber-j
While at the good 'ole SSO a 6 foot burly white woman with hair that rivaled Erykah Badu's fro was holding a life-sized stuffed seal swaddled in a blanket like a baby. She looks over at me, dead in the eye and says, "I've been waiting 5 hours in the broiling heat for Sylvester Stallone just to find out what he's gonna do!" Not only was this hilarious but I was so happy to be acknowledged by this phantom of the city. The one whom I've seen carting around that "thing under a blanket" all about downtown. I had been in suspense for weeks!
Every time I see her hobbling down the street I feel like yelling out, "What's behind door number 2?" Instead, I just try to walk close to catch a peak, my mind making up multiple scenarios,,, a baby doll, a live animal, legless midget-bum-partner... only to find it is a seal. Interesting choice. I was still voting for the legless midget-bum-partner envisioning her feeding him, yes him, like a baby bird. Damn. Then, at the end of our exchange, I realized, she looked me in the eye and spoke to me and the 15 other people in her head...and I began to wonder...what they were like too? Then I came back to reality as my number was being served at window 2 and I slowly got up and walked away thinking, "What the fuck is she talking about...its not even hot outside?"