I've realized this weekend that I should trade in my Registered Nursing license for a Certified Drunk Man's Negotiator certificate. All weekend long, but most particularly in the early morning hours of my shifts, I've dealt with the drunk, stupid and unlucky crowd. The fact that this happens in the morning, before I'm fully caffeinated, is a very bad thing.
This came home full force when one of my patients threw enough of a hissy fit to go smoke that I finally ended up walking across the street with him so he could puff away outside of the "no smoke zone". I'm tall, but he had at least 6 inches and a hundred pounds on me, and as he regaled me with stories of doing prison time for assault and battery, I realized to my horror that I had led him to the wrong spot and that I was totally off the security surveillance camera radar. I couldn't get him to move, so I rationalized. Oh, well, thought I, at least I'm by the ambulance bay, and if he tries anything one of the rigs coming in will see it. Or a cop. The cop cars come the exact same way. But no. Not a squad car or ambulance in sight. The television image of the cop/nurse/medic alliance actually has a hell of a lot of truth to it, and I knew that someone would save my butt if necessary. Only problem was that there was no one there to even see my butt in the event it should need saving.
My drunk and huge guy finally finished his cigarettes and agreed to go back into the unit. And I don't know if the combination of alcohol and nicotine finally caught up with him or what, but he then proceeded to proposition every single woman he saw until I finally got him shipped out to where he needed to go. Called them "hot" and "honey" and asked them if they'd "like a piece of this". He leered and carried on over every female in range. Except me. Me he called ma'am and then shook my hand to thank me as he left.
At the time I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be flattered or insulted. Actually, I'm still not sure. It's a rough thing when even a drunk and indiscriminate guy doesn't hit on you. Especially when he just propostioned the male lab tech with the long hair and shapely behind. (And little did he know that that just might have been his best chance at some action all day.)
Oh, well. At least he kept his pants on, unlike my first patient of his ilk. And he never asked me to check out his "hidden tattoo" either. Thank god. There was nowhere near enough coffee in my system for that.
Weekends are interesting. Holiday weekends are even more so. Some days there just isn't enough caffeine in the world.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Posted by the rotten correspondent at 12:02 AM