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With thirty years in nursing, you can well imagine I have my share of strange stories. I worked in acute dialysis in the hospital, so knew my patients very well. We talked about their lives, familis, dogs, whatever was on their minds. One of my favorite patients was Curtis, a huge man, perfectly delightful, but developmentally challenged. His thinking was about on the level of a eight-year-old. Curtis had somehow gotten credit at a furniture store, bought a houseful of furniture, and not made a single payment. He was being hounded for payment, so decided the best course of action was to go in the hospital, where he wouldn’t be bothered. When he told the nurse at the outpatient dialysis clinic he needed to go to the hospital, she explained he couldn’t be admitted unless sick. He did some thinking and called her back to his chair telling her he had something for her. (I can’t imagine how she fell for that.). He dropped an impressive lump of excrement into her outstretched hand and was admitted into the psychiatric unit of the hospital in short order.
He was happily ensconced at the hospital, soon moved to the medical floor. One day he walked into my unit asking for a large patient gown. He went on his way. Curtis was not on my mind when I heard a lady out in the hall exclaim. “Oh my God! Take it!” It seems she had been bringing a pecan pie to her hospitalized friend from church when she encountered seven-foot-tall Curtis, walking naked down the hall, looking for hospital staff to help him with his gown. Curtis, hadn’t seen a pecan pie in way too long. He dropped the gown, grabbed the pie and raised a clumsy fist when the poor woman resisted. She gave up on the pie and fled shrieking. Eventually, the whole thing smoothed over. Curtis had his pie and his gown. The hospital gave the lady another pecan pie and an apology. By the time Curtis got home, his furniture had been repossessed, so he wasn’t harassed any more. They all lived happily ever after, except of course for the nurse who got a handful of doo-doo.
Oh dear, poor Curtis and poor nurse, though I doubt as a nurse it was the first turd she had on her hands … hopefully it was the only one pushed there with determination. Thanks for the tip ‘How to get a rest when your skint’ and other stories no doubt. 😉
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I never actually had in poop handed to me, though I cleaned up plenty. Some days we had 100% participation in our poop program. Thanks for reading and commenting.
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My admiration for those in the profession never wanes. But the likes of Curtis are … under assumed names of course, great material . I just Love your posts.
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I am so glad. Don’t you want to be a nurse?
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Thankfully I am far to old, I’d spend more time in the beds than making them.
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It was weird. Everytime I made a bed, I wanted to get in it.
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That is weird, Personally speaking I’d need resuscitation if a nurse climbed in my bed. 😲🤑🙃
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Well, I wouldn’t get in an occupied one!
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Oh … jus sayin 😁😂🤣
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Poop program, LOL! That summons up so many memories …. thank God they don’t come along with the smell.
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I don’t forget that one.
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Just love it, thanks for sharing #seniorsalon.
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Thank you.
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No no no oh no no no no no no no…..
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I wouldn’t want to be her.
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No no no. Me either.
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I’m laughing while waiting in the exam room for my nurse…should I? No, i have more sense. 😂
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Well, it got him a trip to psych lockup. Do you need a vacation?
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Oh my gosh! A handful of poo! That poor lady! Hahahaha!
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It was all he had to give. She was ungrateful.
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