Hard Times In The Dating World

I have an odd question that I would like to ask my fellow bloggers. I'm not naming names. I want to keep this a hypothetical question, but it is a real situation.

When a man occasionally has a three-some involving one woman and two men and the men "play with each other", are the men necessarily gay? Or, is this "not about having sex with a man, but having sex and it just happens to be with a man"?

The person who told me about this, sees it as just being adventurous. I see it as a way for a man to have gay sex and remain in denial about his sexual preference. What do you think?

Are there any decent men left in this world?

Form Over Function

We were given another test at work. We get these things all of the time and as usual, they made it easy on us. The manager handed each of us a scan-tron and told us which answers to fill in. We did as we were told. Surprise, surprise, we all got perfect scores. Management must be so proud.

I have no idea what we were tested on and didn't ask. It didn't really matter. So much of what we are required to do makes no sense. Why should this be any different?

Five Things You Don't know

I have been tagged by Lisa to complete this meme. I have to list five things about me that I haven't ever revealed in my blog. Here are the rules: 1. Get tagged 2. List five things that have not been revealed on your blog 3. Tag five others.

1) I don't have a favorite color.

2) I'm immune to poison oak.

3) I detest fluorescent lighting. If incandescent bulbs are ever outlawed, I will switch to candles and lanterns.

4) I once flew a plane, but someone else took care of the take-off and landing part.

5) I once auditioned to be a magician's assistant at a local amusement park. I wasn't chosen and spent the summer frying hamburgers instead. So much for my one shot at show business.

Tag yourselves if you want to play too, but Connie and Madwag, be sure to tag yourselves.

Staples, Nose Catheter And A Wet Bed

The patient's appendix had ruptured and it being such a nasty mess, the surgeon had left the surgical wound open. After a few days, it was healing well, so the doctor decided to close the wound with staples, without anesthetic. We have lidocaine on the floor. He could have, without too much trouble, have numbed her skin, but I guess he didn't see the point. He wasn't the one who would be feeling the pain.

Later, when the patient told me about what had happened, I told her if the doctor had tried to do that to me, I would have kicked him in the balls. I wonder if it's okay to say that to a patient?

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My patient had something sticking out of her nose that I had never seen before, a foley catheter. Usually, you only see those sticking out of people's urethras. Her doctor was creative in his approach to stopping her nose bleed. He had inflated the little balloon in her nose to squeeze the bleeder. It worked, but looked rather odd.

It got me thinking. I've had bad colds when my nose would not stop dripping. Perhaps I could insert a catheter in each nostril to catch the snot. I'll have to keep that in mind.

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The confused patient (do we have any other kind?) got out of his bed, sat on his roommate's bed and wet the bed. It must be hell to come into the hospital and have another patient pee in your bed.

Coming Back To Life

It was a cold winter. Plants that I've grown for years and had no idea were tropicals, took a big hit. I've been waiting to see what will recover. The jade plants, one of which is pictured below, looked like a lost cause.

What a surprise to see that they are still alive. It's going to take awhile for them to return to looking attractive again, but things are looking up. Perhaps if I'm lucky, the ficus trees will come back to life too.

Dilbert Logic

This was the subject of a Dilbert cartoon. The guy with the curled-up tie was denied his vacation request because he hadn't accrued enough vacation time yet. Management didn't care that he would have the vacation days earned by the time his vacation time came. I thought that cartoon was silly. Who knew that management really thinks like that?

One of my coworkers had this happen to her. We are required to make our vacation requests by the first week of March for the whole year. She wants to take her vacation at the end of the year, so she put in her request, calculating how many vacation days she will have by then. Her vacation request was denied because she doesn't have the vacation days earned yet. Is there a reason why idiots tend to be attracted into management?

The Stoplight

This stoplight suddenly appeared at work. Anyone want to guess why nurses need stoplights?

Party Kumquats

The day shift had a birthday party and gave us the left-overs. I'm not complaining. It was nice of them to leave us anything, but the only thing left was kumquats and soda. All of the rice, pizza and cake were gone. (Don't you serve rice when you have pizza?)

I choked down a couple of kumquats while a coworker exclaimed, "We have kumquats and soda. We have everything we need." She was serious. It would take chocolate and beer for me to say that.

The Hungry Doctor And Viagra

Two of the day shift nurses got take-out Mexican food and left the containers with their names on them in the kitchen. Later, when they had time, they would eat their lunch.

One of them noticed a doctor leave the kitchen while chewing something. That was not good. This doctor has a reputation. Going into the kitchen, the nurse found their empty food containers. The good doctor ate all of their fajitas and taquitos.

The nurses were somewhat annoyed, but understanding. They figured that he must have been hungry. I don't understand that kind of thinking. They were hungry too. He could have bought food like they did or just eaten our jello and crackers.

I suggested next time, that they write stool specimen on their containers. Let's see just how hungry the good doctor is.

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An elderly patient asked for viagra. She meant vicodin. That kind of mistake happens quite frequently with older people. It causes me to wonder what old folks really have on their minds.

The Cottages

While looking for a post that mysteriously disappeared, I found almost thirty drafts that I forgot to publish. This post was written last May.

While in Ireland, we stayed in a 190 year old cottage that had been been restored. This is it below.



Also on the property were some cottages from the 16oo's. They were in ruins when the owners of the property found them. The owners had bought a large chunk of land and didn't know that they were there. What a surprise that must have been. They were restored and also can be rented.


They are hiding, but the slope was covered in wild violets. How charming.

This is the fireplace where we burned peat for fuel. Supposedly, it was smokeless peat, but I don't think there is any such thing. It was so smoky that we never had another fire after the first night.

Our cottage was cute, but had been improved with a modern kitchen and bathroom. The original dirt floor had been replaced with concrete and floor heating. I can't imagine trying to cook in the fireplace and going out in the freezing cold to the outhouse. It's a wonder our ancestors survived.

Next Time, We're taking The Big Car

It's near the end of an era. Sarah has sold her house and is moving to Los Osos in central California. Don't you just hate it when a good friend decides to move away? It's cooler and moister there, so Sarah will be able to grow orchids and make soup year round. But first she's going to be busy painting.

The owner of her new house is an "artist" and painted every wall a different vile, vibrant color. If that wasn't enough, the carpet was pulled up and the concrete slab was painted bizarre clashing colors. This is not a Martha Stewart use of color.

I want Sarah to stay in her darling house nearby and remain available for lunch, shopping and hanging out with. That is selfish of me, but I don't care. I want Sarah here.

We went shopping and broke a major rule, we bought more than the car could hold. If we had taken either of our station wagons, there would have been no problem, but we took the little car with practically no trunk.

By putting the top down and piling stuff on top of Sarah, we managed the trip home. That's a wrought iron garden bench squishing Sarah. Oh, and by the way, I won the shopping contest. I managed to spend more than Sarah. I always win.

Peeing In The Wrong Hat

One of my patients peed in another patient's hat. Not the kind of hat that you wear on your head, but the kind of hat that goes in the toilet and is used to measure urine. It's called a hat because if you turn it upside down, it looks like a hat, sort of.

Normally, going in the wrong hat wouldn't be such a problem, but one of the patients had MRSA. The patients should not have been in the same room, but we had no other beds available. This is the kind of thing that happens when you combine infectious and clean patients.

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The day shift nurse was introducing me to my patient and mentioned that she had given him a suppository earlier for constipation. She asked him if he was able to poop. He said yes, so naturally, she asked how big it was.

He just looked at her with big eyes. Seeing how uncomfortable he was, I felt the need to say something. With mock indignation, I asked if that meant he didn't measure it for us. I don't recall his answer exactly, but it had something to do with how odd nurses are. Since when has it been considered odd to ask people about their poop? Don't all people have these discussions?

Water Fills A Vacuum

I've had my suspicions, but couldn't prove anything. Kelsey has been soaking wet and tracking in pond water lately. I thought perhaps he was just falling in the pond. He is a little clumsy and when he tries to drink from the pond, he sometimes loses his balance and falls in. But, today I caught him. He got in the pond on purpose. Darn, I have another water dog.

I still miss Murphy, the biggest water dog, and it seems strange to have a dry house now that he is no longer with us. Perhaps it feels strange to Kelsey too. His entire life, he has lived in a wet house. Perhaps now that the house has finally dried out, he feels a need to create the wet environment that he grew up with. I'm probably destined to live my life in a wet house.

Breast Appreciation Day

The day shift nurse told me that management gave us daffodils for breast appreciation day. It's nice, I guess, that management appreciates our breasts so much, but still, this is a little weird. I'm wondering if this was really something like breast cancer awareness day.

I told every nurse visiting our floor that we got the flowers for breast appreciation day and no one seemed to think that was odd. I guess it's just me.

So, did anyone give you a present for breast appreciation day?

The Shower

My niece, pictured below, is getting married and today was her bridal shower. She lives on the other side of Disneyland from me, or at least her parents do. The bride actually lives in Minneapolis, so I guess I should be grateful that the shower was in Orange County, but it was still a long, miserable drive through heavy traffic in 94 degree heat.

This is my other niece. I'm almost thirty years older than her. I had my day in the sun and now it's her turn to be the head-turning blonde.

The girls below are wearing toilet paper wedding dresses. Making them was one of the party games. I think they turned out fairly well, especially with only a ten minute time limit. Given more time, I think that we could make a perfectly decent toilet paper wedding dress and save my brother some money. I wonder if the bride would go for it.

Some Cheesecake

Today was warm and most important of all, it was my day off. This was pretty much my day. How was yours?

Another Crazy Patient

I almost knocked out a doctor today. The syringe was behind my back and I was sneaking up on the patient. Things weren't going well, so I decided to retreat and plan a second attack. While backing towards the door with the uncapped needle facing behind me, a doctor walked in the room. We almost collided.

The shot was haldol, ativan and cogentin. The doctor would have been knocked out cold, like the patient is now. By the way, there is no point in fighting the nurse. The nurse always wins. (Especially if the nurse is me.)

The hardest part was getting my coworkers to help me. I had four people in the room to help hold her down and they all just stood there. Yes, it was true that she was oriented and that people normally have the right to refuse treatment, but she was completely crazy. She was bipolar and completely out of control. Screaming, raving, violent lunatics can be medicated against their will.

It wasn't until Richard showed up that I was able to sedate her. He grabbed her arms, rolled her over and I shot her up. While this was going on, she was screaming that Richard was a c...sucker and that he was too stupid to be a doctor and should be picking cotton. In other words, she was being her usual pleasant self. She had been carrying on like that since she arrived on our floor. Now, she is sleeping like a baby.

Richard said that she had three problems; she was bipolar, high as a kite and a bitch.

Turning Music

Kenny Rogers lives in his world and I live in mine. Except for an occasional annoying Indian gaming commercial, his world did not impact mine. Now, four times a day I am being assaulted by Kenny Rogers music. Life can be so cruel.

To remind us to turn our patients, turning music is played every two hours. At first it didn't bother me, but now the sound of his voice has the same effect as fingernails scratching a chalkboard. I don't know who chose this music, but I'm starting to have fantasies of revenge.

Someone did try substituting a Beach Boys CD, but we liked it so much that we never turned it off, which defeated the purpose of the music. It's also probably best that I don't associate the Beach Boys with turning patients. I don't want to ruin music I like.

I think the perfect song for turning would be The Volga Boatmen.

"Yo, heave ho! Yo, heave, ho!
Once more, once again, still once more"

Dog And Cat Diaries

* Excerpts from a Dog's Diary*

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 PM - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 PM - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 PM - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 PM - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 PM - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 PM - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 PM - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!


* Excerpts from a Cat's Diary*

Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed
hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the
rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to
keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of
escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet.
I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly
demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made
condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was
placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I
could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my
confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this
means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my
tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this
again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.
The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and
seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The
bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the
guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors
have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is
safe. For now...

Hand Paintings, Part Two

A Secret Baby

Even though she was in her thirties, the patient was afraid of what her mom would do if she found out. The patient had a baby this morning and wanted to keep it a secret, so we all had to pretend that the patient was just anemic, not a new mom.

So that the patient's mom wouldn't get suspicious, we kept the patient on our orthopedic unit, far away from the maternity floor. We lied about the medications the patient was getting. The mom now thinks that pitocin is an antibiotic, rather than a drug that causes the uterus to contract.

The patient's mom lectured her daughter about her poor eating habits and how it was all her fault that she had become anemic. The daughter cried and I said nothing. If her mom was that upset about an anemia diagnosis, imagine what would have happened if she knew that she had a new grandchild.

The patient lived with her mom who took care of her two children when she was at work. The patient couldn't quite manage with her two children, having a third child was unthinkable.

The patient believed that she was two months pregnant and has her first prenatal exam scheduled for next week. When she began having cramps this morning, she thought that she was going to miscarry. An ultrasound showed that the baby was full-term. It must have been a shock.

Not being able to keep the baby and the other option no longer being available, she chose to give the baby up for adoption. She spent the afternoon, after her mom left, going through stacks of prospective parent's biographies. She easily reached a decision. She chose the happy-looking couple who included a photo of their dogs. The patient loves dogs and wanted dog people to raise her daughter.

The new parents were called and told that they are now the parents of a baby girl. The adoption worker who got to make that call has the world's best job. The baby goes home tomorrow with her new parents and dog siblings. I love a happy ending.

Like A Flamenco

Sometimes, I like to stand like a flamenco. If there is a chair nearby, I'll bend one leg, rest my knee on the chair and stand on one leg. My arms go behind my back. It's a comfortable position for me. I can do it without the chair, but that is too weird.

The other day I was talking to Richard while holding a cup of tea. The urge became unbearable. I set the cup down on a table and assumed the flamenco position. He looked at me with the most puzzled expression. Then he put his knee on a chair. He wobbled a bit and then resumed standing like a normal human being. My guess is that he was trying to mirror my body language, but lacked the right stuff to do it.

Now, I'm curious what it means to stand like a flamenco. Doing an Internet search was not helpful. Apparently, I'm the only person on the planet who likes to stand that way.

Standing with the arms behind the back is common and supposedly means that the person is either self-confident, cocky, a prick or was in the British Navy. Standing on one leg means that one is ready for some action, if one is a dog. What it means for humans is a mystery, especially when combined with the arms behind the back.

Do you have any bizarre body language?

Three Men And A River

Three men were hiking through a forest when they came upon a large raging, violent river. Needing to get on the other side, the first man prayed, "God, please give me the strength to cross the river."

Poof! God gave him big arms and strong legs and he was able to swim across in about 2 hours, having almost drowned twice.

After witnessing that, the second man prayed, "God, please give me strength and the tools to cross the river." Poof!

God gave him a rowboat and strong arms and strong legs and he was able to row across in about an hour after almost capsizing once.

Seeing what happened to the first two men, the third man prayed, "God, please give me the strength, the tools and the intelligence to cross the river."

Poof! He was turned into a woman. She checked the map, hiked one hundred yards up stream and walked across the bridge.

Movie Magic

A movie star came to visit one of our patients. The day shift nurse couldn't wait to tell me. As soon as I walked in she said, "Look, it's him." I didn't know who he was, so she took me over to the computer and showed me a trailer for a movie he is starring in that will be released next month.

It was interesting, but I still didn't know who he was. I happened to glance over at him as he wiped runny snot from his nose with the back of his hand. I guess movie stars have the same problems as the rest of us.