In the Next Room- Mr Hilarious

Can you stand more patient stories? Is it just me? People are so funny. This is why even though I'm getting older and my body really feels it; I just gotta be a nurse. On bad days my standing joke is, "Welcome to Walmart, would you like a cart"? I'm practicing for the only other job I could get. It's just nice to have options.

I know ya'll are curious about my wonderful friend Lucy. The one who leaves all those great comments at your blog sites. She won't post because she is a "READER" not a "WRITER"! So she says;, excuse me, yells!

Lucy was married to a crazy guy named Hal. She used to sing him this little song;

Harold Harold my true love,
Come a swoopin like a dove.

I could entertain you for the rest of my life with Lucy & Hal stories. Hal had cancer. It was some kind of intact tumors that could be cut out, and he lasted forever almost a dozen years. He had mesh in his abdomen to hold his guts in, they had taken so much of it out. He would just walk out of the hospital when he'd had enough. He'd take his own stitches out. He was brilliant and totally crazy. They divorced but stayed friends and whenever he was sick he wanted Lucy. He was tall and thin with wispy fine hair. He lived hard and it showed on him. It didn't help to have cancer, or drink, or do drugs, but he did all that. Lucy married him when they were young and idealistic and he was going to be a marine biologist. Things change.

Last week I had this other patient down the hall from the preacher. He was looney tunes. When I went in to check him he was fully dressed. He had on his blue jeans and a ball cap. He was tall and skinny, really skinny, with wispy fine hair. He was getting ready to be discharged the next day. I asked him how was I supposed to check him today? He responded with, "Do you want to see this pimple on my butt that everybody is so excited about"? I looked away for a minute and when I had turned back he was standing there with his pants pulled down so I could see his butt. It was all I could do not to crack up. "Looks pretty good to me" I said. Well healed anyway. He would go outside and smoke like a chimney and show up when he thought it might be time for him to get some kind of medication. It worked pretty well. As we got to talking he told me he was going to drive himself home. I almost fainted.

This guy was taking 4 doses of vitamin x a day (Xanex), his brain was basically fried. I tried to talk him out of it. No deal, he had his car in the parking lot and he was driving. This is scary. Honestly I see people all the time that should NOT be behind the wheel of a car, ever.

Next day I had this patient again. After swearing all of my family to stay off of the road at such and such time, I discharged this patient. He couldn't figure out how the automatic locks worked to unlock the doors. Help. As he crawled across the seats to pull the locks up by hand I went around and unlocked the car doors for him. He was impressed with my mechanical apptitiude. We did hold his morning dose of vitamin x. It's the least I could do for an unsuspecting society. It was actually all I could do. It's a bad feeling, like putting a baby in a car without a carseat. It happens.

This fella had a load of stuff, he had brought his electic guitar named Lucy, he said BB King's guitar was named Lucille. He had about as much musical ability as driving ability, ouch,....my ears...FEEDBACK. Mr. Pimple drove away, with promises not to drive 80 miles an hour. Sigh,...then it hit me, he was just like Hal.
I'd go home and call Lcuy and we would share a laugh and reminisce.