Celebrity Death Match: Nursing Edition

(Originally published 2006)

Welcome, ladies and gents, to the first ever Celebrity Deathmatch: Nursing Edition. Okay, so neither contestant is a celebrity, and only of them is a nurse…but why be bothered with trivial details when today’s match promises to be a harrowing, nail-biting experience.

And on with the show!

In this corner, standing a robust 5’2″, but wearing clogs that add 2 more inches to an already intimidating height. Short blonde hair, and hot pink scrubs…is the voluptuous, the sarcastic, with the ability to bring quivering First Year Residents to their knees: GB the RN! (wild applause)

And in this corner, towering at 6’4″, weighing in…well, we don’t know the weight because he broke the scale, a patient who is no stranger to psych meds, who boasts the ability to seduce unsuspecting females with his sheer manliness, presenting: Chester the Molester! (boos from the audience)

Both contestants take their place in the ring. GB on one side of the desk, Chester on the other. Before the match begins, we had the opportunity to talk to them both to find out just who will win this match, and why.

CDM: GB, why do you think you will win this match?

GB: Because I have a high IQ, razor wit, and quick access to hospital security.

CDM: Chester is 3 times your size. Aren’t you worried he will squish you?

GB: No…because I can always outrun him. I can toss some cookies from the galley at him and distract him while I run away to the safety of the Med Room.

CDM: An excellent strategy, indeed!

CDM: And you, Chester, why do you think you will win tonight’s match?

Chester: I will use my secret weapon.

CDM: And what would that be?

Chester: I will flash my penis at GB and she will become so enamored, that she will surrender herself to me and my wills.

CDM: What makes your penis so special?

Chester: It is magical. Why today, two nursing students saw it and they were so intimidated by it, they never came back to my room.

There you have it folks. Two opposing forces at work. Who will come out the victor?

Ding!

Round One:

GBsits at the desk across from Chester’s room. She appears to be charting on her other patients. Chester comes out of his room and approaches GB. He is wearing a hospital gown and clutching a sock.

Chester: I have a question.

GB: What is it?

Chester: Well, I have a friend coming over tonight, and we plan on having sex. So, what is your policy on that.

GB: Would this be related to the escort services you were calling all day today?

(Wow! A quick sucker-punch from GB. That short girl sure is sneaky!)

Chester: We don’t want to be bothered. So, can you not come in the room because we are having sex?

GB: This is a hospital, Chester, not a hotel. It’s midnight and you need to go back to your room because you are disrupting the other patients.

GB 1, Chester 0

Chester turns around and drops the sock. He bends over to pick up the sock and the gown parts to reveal a very large, very dimpled ass. GB throws up in her mouth a little and vows never to eat cottage cheese ever again.

GB 1, Chester 1

Round 2:

GB is sitting at the computer entering orders. Chester comes out of his room, pushing his IV pole, still wearing his gown. He meanders down the hall, exposing his ass to the rest of the staff, and offers to show his penis to anyone who asks to see it. Charge nurse appears and orders Chester back to his room. The staff is nauseated. GB glares at Chester when he smugly returns to his room.

GB 1, Chester 2

Round 3:

Chester calls from his room announcing that he has peed all over himself and he needs the tech to personally give him a sponge bath. GB and staff tell him there is nothing wrong with his hands and he is fully capable of giving himself a shower. Chester goes off to the shower, but not before inviting one of the nursing assistants to come and take a shower with him. The staff all tell him no. GB is still glaring at Chester.

GB 1, Chester 2, Staff 1

Round 4:

It’s morning, and the day staff is in. Day-nurse is getting report from GB and appears to have taken his place in this match: a tag-team partner! Chester, not to be ignored, comes out of his room stark-ass-naked. This atrocity is witnessed by GB, Day-nurse, 2 residents, and 1 other nurse. The horror is collective.

GB/Staff 2, Chester 3

“My gown is too big” Chester complains while absently playing with his nipple. In unison, GB and Day-nurse demand he return to his room. GB also barks that he needs to shut his curtain because no one wants to his his naked butt. First year resident turns green.

GB/Staff 3, Chester 3, Resident -1

Chester comes out of room 5 minutes later with a sheet wrapped around his waist, only the sheet doesn’t fully wrap around, and there is an opening right in the front, strategically showcasing his wiener. All the residents retreat.

GB/Staff 3, Chester 4, Residents -5

GB stands up and points a finger at Chester and yells, “Get back to you room and cover yourself! If you come out of your room one more time, I will have the police come up here and they will deal with you personally!!”

Chester beats a hasty retreat to his room and closes the door. If one thing trumps his penis, it would be police with tasers.

GB/Staff 4, Chester 4

GB and staff ask his primary doctor for discharge orders and get it. Chester will be going home!

GB/Staff 5, Chester 4

And GB wins in a come-from-behind victory!! We tried to get a post-match interview with her, but she grumbled something about going home and jabbing sharpened pencils in her eyes before going to bed.

So, tune in next time for Celebrity Deathmatch where we will pit Lindsay Lohan against the entire medical encyclopedia of sexually transmitted diseases!!

Surviving Nursing School: Your First Patient

(Previously published, May 2009)

After mountains of prerequisites and enduring a waiting period of two-years because every other Tom, Dick, and Harry want to be nurses, you finally got into nursing school.

Hooray. For. You.

You get your list of crap you need for school…books, charts, other books to tell you how to read the nursing books because they are written in some dead language, but you really get excited about the list of stuff you will need for clinicals. Clinicals!! It is the opportunity to get out there and get your feet wet. You get to show off those new skills you learned in skills lab on a practice dummy that can’t tell you what an idiot you are for putting it in the wrong hole. This is your time to shine! You’ll be so good at it, the nursing instructors will have no choice but to pass you after your first day, and recommend that you take your boards immediately!

Usually, you start out slow. You get one patient to take care of for a clinical day, which generally lasts 8 hours, but actually breaks down into 4 hours when you subtract lunch…and conference with your instructor before and after your “clinical day” where you dissect everything you managed to fuck up without actually killing the patient. The day before “clinical day”, you go to the “clinical site”…which is just a fancy way of saying hospital or nursing home, to get information on that one patient that will be your charge for a total of 4 hours.

So, you get dressed up in your smart business wear, because you have to look professional when you go to piss off the nurses by stealing their charts to pour over for 3 straight hours, writing down all the information that is pertinent: diagnosis, past medical history, current orders, old orders, procedures, medications, when they last passed gas. If you’re patient is relatively new, you struck gold. If your patient has been there since the invention of the foley catheter, you probably pissed off your instructor at some point, and this is their retribution.

Armed with your mountains of notes, you go home and spend the remainder of the evening writing up care plans, and small essays defining the diagnosis of your patient, and researching every little medication the patient takes, right down to the medicated pad they use for their hemorrhoids. And when you are done, you have just enough time for a 2 hour nap, get up, get dressed in your snappy nursing school uniform, and report for clinicals…usually stopping at Starbucks on the way to pick up the strongest drink they make. (I blame nursing school for my caffeine addiction.)

Most nursing programs start their students out in nursing homes before exposing them to the cutthroat world of hospitals. You go, get your standard little, blue-haired lady. You give her scheduled medications. You give her a bath. You do an assessment. You chart about the whole experience. You spend the day talking to her and have her brag to you about her grandchildren, (or sometimes you get to hear them complain about their horrible children who put them in the home and never come to visit). You go home feeling good about the new career you have chosen for yourself because you get to help people. A relatively easy and positive experience.

Yeah, too bad that didn’t happen to me.

I got my patient assignment, and made a beeline for the facility after class because I was an excited, young nursing student. I asked the nurse for the chart of my patient, and I could have swore she smirked at me. Whatever! I sequestered myself to the staff break room and furiously wrote down everything, right down to the last time the patient pooped and a summary of what it looked like. As I wrote down the history, I gave pause to the phrase “morbid obesity”.

Webster’s Dictionary defines morbid as “grisly” or “gruesome”. Apparently, there’s Garden Variety Fat, and there’s Stephen King Fat. My patient being the latter.

After my copious note-taking, I went to my patient’s room. It was customary to introduce yourself to your patient, as the student nurse who would be taking care of them the following day. Maybe this served as a warning to the patient that they had approximately 12 hours to try to hurl themselves down a stairwell, or find some other means to get themselves transferred to another facility, hospital, or mortuary.

I knocked softly and entered the room. All the doctor’s notes in the world could not have prepared me for what waited on the other side of the door.

If Jabba the Hut and a troll doll were to make mad, passionate, love and out of that forbidden love created a child, that child would have been my very first patient in nursing school. For there, in a bed that could have easily supported the weight of a Chevy Silverado, lay my patient. All 700lbs of her. And crowning the top of her head was the hair in an eye-catching shade of hot pink. It was standing straight up, just like a troll doll.

After an internal struggle to keep my shocked and mortified expression in check, I talked with her for ten minutes. As I drove home, I tried to figure out just what I did that curried the anger of my clinical instructor. Not even two weeks in, and I was already pissing people off.

The next day, I show up, Starbucks in hand. I’m told I need to give my patient a bath, as in get her out of bed and into the shower. I blanch. This requires the work of ten nursing students, using a hoyer lift. We wheel my patient into the shower and proceed to hose her down, all coming out equally drenched. We find out later that the patient hadn’t seen the shower room since the previous semester when nursing students invaded the facility, and that this patient had just been getting bed baths up until now.

But on a positive note, I found the remote control she had been missing for a few days.

Somehow, I managed to survive the day. While I never had to have Bertha the Troll back, my other classmates did get their turns…and clinical days were much of the same: hoyer lift, shower, the twist being the item we would find nestled in her, ahem, folds. Sometimes it was food. Sometimes it was a comb. Other times it was something we couldn’t readily identify.

The charming, blue haired lady with delightful tales of her grandchildren? I never got to take care of her. Instead, I get the frosty old bat who complained about her hemorrhoids all the time. The mentally retarded patient that ate his boogers. The senile old man that pinched my boob and left a big, bruise. And the lady with Alzheimer’s that pulled me into the bathtub with her during that fleeting minute I turned my attention away.

And such was my first semester of clinicals in nursing school. Nursing…welcome to it.