911 Fire Police or Medic?

The block party I stumbled upon, arriving to my patients house one Saturday, concerned me at first. However, in true home care nursing fashion, I grabbed my nursing bag, pinned on my name badge, and confidently walked up to the house. After refusing a bottle of beer the nice gentleman on the porch offered me, I proceeded to ring the bell. A woman, pushed her way through the crowded living room, and opened the door. I explained I was there to see my patient, and she showed me up the narrow staircase. As I walked into the tiny bedroom, I found my patient sitting on the edge of the bed. I introduced myself, and the very obvious intoxicated lady politely shut the door, and went downstairs. My patient looked at me and said, "Who was that"? I didn't know, and neither did she. Trying to stay on task, I started my nursing visit. The music was very loud, and I struggled communicate with my little lady. After some time, I finished up, thanked my patient, and told her I would be back Tuesday. Picking up my bag, I walked to the door. As I turned the knob, it appeared to be stuck. Jiggling the door, I began to break a sweat. My patient kept saying, "just turn it".. REALLY? Thanks, for the help. She then got up, slowly made her way over to the door, and failed as well. Hmmm.. what now? I tried it again, and again. After what seemed like forever, I tried to yell out the door, but the music was too loud. I put on my "survivor" face, and got a bright idea to open the window, and yell to the crowd that I saw on the front lawn. Much to my dismay, the window was painted shut. Awesome. It was at this moment I questioned my profession. Sitting there, looking my patient in the eye, I wondered if I was on Candid Camera. Was somebody going to jump out of the closet, and yell..:"GOTCHA" . No such luck. I had no other option.. I grabbed my cell phone, and YES I did it. 911, fire, police, or medical? The operator said. Well, fire would help get a ladder to this second floor window that's painted shut, police could break down the door and free me-and safely get me out of here, and definitely the medic for the panic attack I was having, and 10 pound of fluid Ive lost from sweating. Take your pick, I told her. Moments later, I heard them.. the sirens prompted the music to quickly get turned down, and random people scattered(yes, I was watching out the window.) Pretty soon, I heard a voice, "Are you in here"? Yep, I proudly replied, and the police officer opened the door. Apparently, the delightful mystery guest locked the door from the outside. I grabbed my stuff, let the kind police officer escort me to my car, NEVER to return again. (BTW, the patient was subsequently removed from that home, and now happily resides with her other son across town- -not a good idea to lock someone in their room) Moral of the story.. always carry your cell phone (or a crowbar)

Elderly Pimpin'

So I had an elderly African-American patient a couple of years ago that we were seeing for antibiotic injections for pneumonia. Part of my responsibilities as a home care nurse is to educate patients on their disease processes and also their medications. So as I was teaching this gentleman about his medications and quizzing him on what each one was, we got to his Viagra. Now this patient happened to be on twice the normal dose then is indicated for erectile dysfunction. When I inquired as to why he was taking it, thinking maybe there was another reason he set me straight:
Flo: Do you know why you are on this medication
Him: Yeah that is so I can get it up for the ladies
Flo: That is an extremely high dose
Him: Yeah Dr Blank says that us black men need twice as much since we are twice as big
Flo: I have never heard that before
Him: Want to see how it works?
Flo: I'll see you next week
Sometimes it is just better to keep your mouth shut. When will I ever learn?

There She Blows!

I believe I have mentioned before what a glamorous career that nursing is. We deal with body fluids of all kinds, poop, vomit, pee, mucous, and the good old mystery fluids that you really do not want to know what they are. Well today was no exception.

I have a patient who is a monthly foley catheter change. This is a tube that goes directly into the bladder for people who retain urine or their bladders just do not drain correctly anymore.

So this lady happens to be obese and it is very difficult to get to where I need to be from the front. So I have her roll to her side so I can insert the catheter. So everything is going normally until I hear "OMG, OMG, OMG!" from my patient. Before I had time to react the most unholy inhumane fart sounding as if it originated from the depth of Hell. Meh, farts are easy it has happened to me many times and I barely miss a beat. However this time the fart from hell was followed by the hugest smelliest shit I have ever had the misfortune of of seeing/smelling. Not to mention the fact it landed all over my arm. Some days I wish the uniform wasn't scrubs but full body armor!

Would you like to buy a vowel???

Sitting in the rocking chair, my patient turns and looks at me at says, "I don't feel well today". After pressing the issue, trying to identify what exactly was wrong, and what I could do for him, he continued to repeat over and over, "the doctor said its my pirates, they're abnormal" "Pirates??" I asked. "Yes, pirates...p-i-r-a-t-e-s". Well, since he took the time to spell it, I knew that's what he was saying. Now, I have been a nurse for awhile, and never heard of abnormal pirates. He then asked me, what will happen to him if his pirates do not improve. I wanted to say, "well, you may encounter some trouble the next time you take over a ship", but I didn't. I simply picked up the phone and called his doctor. The doctor was less than pleased to get on the phone, and more agitated when I asked him whats wrong with my patients pirates. He said a few choice words.... then said...ohhhhh, he just had blood work, and his PLATELETS were abnormal...I tried not to laugh, but couldn't help myself. I told my patient he would be fine.. his pirates will be checked again next month.. nothing to worry about.

When In Rome.....

Having a job that pays you a salary is a wonderful thing. However, in home care, that doesn't always work in your favor. Being a salaried nurse, you don't always have the ability to pick and choose the patients you see. I received a call from the office one day, telling me I had another patient to add to my schedule. After getting all of the demographics, the scheduler-quietly said, " Oh, he gets a little combative and agitated at times, and sometimes refuses to let the nurse in, but you have to make him let you in.. he is a brittle diabetic, but I know you can handle it". Great. I reviewed his diagnosis list..diabetes-fine, hypertension-no problem, coronary artery disease-piece of cake.. schizophrenia-hmmm, we'll see.
After parking my car in the parking lot, I began to walk down the grassy hill to the low-income apartments. It was at that point I noticed, the homeless man fast asleep in the side yard, the little kids running around in diapers, the young men gathered around an old car with the radio blasting, and smoke in the air. As I identified my patients apartment , I noticed the blinds were twisted, broken, and a face was looking out the window. Taking a deep breath, and reminding myself that I love my job(over and over), I slowly approached, and knocked. A loud voice yelled through the metal door, "Who is it?" I explained I was the nurse, and was here to check his blood sugar, and give him his insulin. After what seemed like hours, he replied louder, "You're lying, I'm not letting you in"..Wow. Now what? I told him again, I was here to help him. He continued to peer out the window, as I stood there.. confused, and slightly irritated that he was now putting me behind schedule. "I'm not letting you in, until you tell me your gang affiliation" he announced. What??, there I stood, nursing bag over my shoulder, scrubs on my body, name badge on my shirt, and he wants to know my gang affiliation??
I stood there for a few more seconds, trying to decide: run as fast as I can back to my car, or answer the man. I pressed my face close to the door, and said, in a low voice "I'm with the West Side Nurses". Long awkward pause. Slowly, the door opened. There stood a pleasant man, smiling from ear to ear, and exclaimed, "Why didn't you say that from the beginning.. come on in honey".
I took care of this man every day for almost a year. The director of nursing asked me on several occasions, "How did you get him to agree to your visits.. I just told her, don't worry about it. One day, I was running late to see him, and he called the office- he didn't give my name, yet told the director, "My nurse isn't here yet- ya know her- the one in the West Side Nurses Gang, can you call her?"
I won employee of the year that year

Why didn't I become an accountant?

Some stories are so out there only time makes them humorous in hindsight. This story has been a favorite of my coworkers and friends for years.

The first homecare agency I worked for had a policy for what to do in case a person lost a digit to necrosis(side note: sometimes people with severe vascular disease and diabetes will have toes or fingers get necrotic and the doctors will allow the diseased digits to just die and fall off instead of risking the patient going through surgery, this is way more common with toes). The policy was that we would have to collect the toe and put it in a biohazard bag to be sent to pathology at the hospital. I know it is a glamorous job try not to be jealous.

Fast forward about 2 months and I have a patient John Doe who was a very brittle diabetic and we were seeing him for wound care on 3 of his toes. Basically we were just wrapping his foot with gauze and checking to make sure the skin on his foot was not becoming necrotic or dead like his toes.

The toes were becoming very black and brittle and I held my breath every visit just hoping those toes stayed where they were supposed to be. Well that idea was shot to shit one visit and I have been traumatized every since. I unwrapped his foot as usual and 2 of the toes had come off in the dressing. So I was getting in my nursing bag to get out a biohazard bag and THE PATIENTS DOG GRABBED ONE OF THE TOES RIGHT OFF THE BANDAGE! So here I am totally freaked out chasing this little dog all over the house while the patient is laughing at me telling me not to worry about it because he could not use the toes anyway. The dog totally ate one of his toes!!! I called my office to let them know I would only be bringing in one specimen and after they picked themselves up off the floor from laughing at me they told me I had to let the doctor know. That was one of the most awkward calls I have ever made. The doctor thought I was just messing with him but ended up being very amused by the whole situation. The patient teased me about the incident until the day we discharged him. I still shudder when I see necrotic toes to this day.
*because I like you all I will spare you images of necrosis of the toes but for anyone wondering how a toe just falls off, please feel free to google it, although I must warn you it is not for the faint of heart*

I NEED YOU TO CHECK SOMETHING FOR ME..

SCROTUM: Noun/Plural..The pouch of skin that contains the testes.

What the dictionary does not include in this definition: As men age, their scrotums become supersized and extra shiny. I did not discover this by reading an updated anatomy book, or attending a mens health expo. Unfortunately, I had the misfortune of my patient announcing, (before I could take off my coat) "I need you to check something". As homecare nurses, we are very familiar with that phrase..hearing it several times a week. Typically, the next step is our patients show us a bruise or cut, new bottle of medicine, or even the thermostat. But, this day was different. As I quickly removed my coat, (in superstar nurse -save the day fashion), and started to walk over to him, he already was standing in front of his lazyboy. Pants down around ankles. Boxers twisted at his feet. AND THERE IT WAS... the biggest, longest scrotum I had ever seen. It wasnt his scrotum he needed me to check. He had an itch in his right groin area. I didnt have a choice.. I had to go in...I adorned my medium non latex powder free gloves, attempted to visualize the groin.. Quite difficult with him standing, and myself bending at the waist with my hair nearly dragging on the ground. I asked him to go lay in his bed, and he refused.. of course. I reluctantly, kneeled down (yes, the picture in your mind is correct), grabbed hold of the fifty pound, six foot scrotum, and dug in...noting a horrible fungal infection. While assessing the entire groin, and scrotum, with his penis blowing in the wind... he had the nerve to ask me if any patients with a rash like his that need checked, get an erection....
As I helped him fold up his scrotum, and place it back down his pants into his shoe, I told him I would report this to his doctor, and politely excused myself out the door....
This would be the last time, "I need you to check something" would get me.