In Sickness & In Health
It's been a while since I've posted. That's because I've been nursing a patient and his bum leg. Big V took a turn for the worse and landed himself in the hospital for 3 days. They sure do take bright red, swollen legs seriously.
I think I'd make a great nurse if I only had to deal with the male patients. See, to me he was complaining and whimpering about how this hurt and how that hurt and how his foot was all tingly and losing feeling - but to the nurses he was all chipper and fun loving, exercising stereotypical machismo: "I feel happy! I feel fine! I wanna take a walk!" He was the easiest patient on the floor because nothing was ever wrong with him. The nurses would smile, pat him lovingly on the arm and walk out the door. Then he'd turn to me moaning about how it would be easier if they would just amputate the damn leg already. You can clearly see how easy the nurse's job was as compared to mine. I bet if he had lied to me about the state of his leg I wouldn't have given him the stink eye so much. Just sayin'.
Anyway, the second those antibiotics kicked in and he was released from the hospital, I propped him up on the couch and retreated to the basement where I told him I had tons of laundry to catch up on. He couldn't take the stairs so he had no clue I was actually just lounging on the couch watching Sister Wives and reruns of Real Housewives of DC, surrounded by the laundry I had folded earlier in the week but was too lazy to haul upstairs. Every half hour or so I'd take an arm load up, taking care to wipe my brow at just the right moment when I knew he'd be looking. At one point I asked how he was doing and if he felt well enough to help fold, but he thought he might be getting a tad dizzy, what with all those antibiotics he was on, so I told him he should probably just take it easy and don't worry, I'd take care of all the laundry. Sure, he managed to watch every single football game being played, but he also had the baby. That means I win.
I think I'd make a great nurse if I only had to deal with the male patients. See, to me he was complaining and whimpering about how this hurt and how that hurt and how his foot was all tingly and losing feeling - but to the nurses he was all chipper and fun loving, exercising stereotypical machismo: "I feel happy! I feel fine! I wanna take a walk!" He was the easiest patient on the floor because nothing was ever wrong with him. The nurses would smile, pat him lovingly on the arm and walk out the door. Then he'd turn to me moaning about how it would be easier if they would just amputate the damn leg already. You can clearly see how easy the nurse's job was as compared to mine. I bet if he had lied to me about the state of his leg I wouldn't have given him the stink eye so much. Just sayin'.
Anyway, the second those antibiotics kicked in and he was released from the hospital, I propped him up on the couch and retreated to the basement where I told him I had tons of laundry to catch up on. He couldn't take the stairs so he had no clue I was actually just lounging on the couch watching Sister Wives and reruns of Real Housewives of DC, surrounded by the laundry I had folded earlier in the week but was too lazy to haul upstairs. Every half hour or so I'd take an arm load up, taking care to wipe my brow at just the right moment when I knew he'd be looking. At one point I asked how he was doing and if he felt well enough to help fold, but he thought he might be getting a tad dizzy, what with all those antibiotics he was on, so I told him he should probably just take it easy and don't worry, I'd take care of all the laundry. Sure, he managed to watch every single football game being played, but he also had the baby. That means I win.
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