When Food Hits The Fan

I was walking out of the patient's room carrying a half-eaten dinner tray. An oscillating fan on high blew across my path, knocking the lighter items off the tray and against me. I ended up with red jello, grape juice and salad dressing across my chest. And people wonder why nurses no longer wear white uniforms. The stains were hardly noticeable on my garish, tacky print top.

On the narcotic sheet, someone wrote down the date as 5/20. Everyone else who signed out narcs after that also wrote down the date as 5/20, including me. I know what my problem is, but what was wrong with everyone else? They're not blondes.

A phone rang and the patient picked it up. He listened without saying anything and hung up. The phone rang again, he put the phone to his ear and listened. I told him to say hello. He said hello and was pleased to have the person answer back. All it took to start a conversation was to say hello. I sometimes forget what I'm supposed to say when I answer a phone, but I remember that I'm supposed to say something. He is just one step further down that road of mental confusion. The next step after that is to hear a ringing and not know what is making that sound or what to do about it, kind of like me and my alarm clock.