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Misadventurous Melissa

Everyday is an adventure, or misadventure as the case may be. It is the latter that makes for the best stories, inspiring the name of my blog. I'm a nurse and an attorney (and way too silly sometimes). I am retired now. WELCOME to my blog! This is a work of fiction inspired by true events. The patients I refer to are a patchwork quilt of various patient's problems mixed together. If you think you recognize someone, you are wrong. These people do not really exist.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Pressure In The Bowels

Who knew a fart could cause so much trouble?

The patient had just had his knee replaced a few hours earlier and was still groggy when he announced that he had to go number two. When his nurse brought him a bedpan, he became angry. He was not going to go in a bedpan, he expected to be helped to the bathroom.

She tried to reason with him to no avail, so she got me to add my two cents. I listened sympathetically and explained that no one likes to go in a bedpan, but there was no choice. I gave him all of the reasons why it was too dangerous for us to try and walk him, but he didn't care. His roommate was eating dinner at the time and he was not about to go poop in the same room as his roommate and he expected his roommate to show him the same courtesy.

At one point, he called me sweetheart in a patronizing voice and talked about carrying his buddies across fields in Vietnam and if he could do that, he could certainly walk to the bathroom. Being called sweetheart by someone who is not my sweetheart is one of my buttons. I could feel a flush of anger, but tried not to let it show, although I may have mentioned something about putting him in restraints.

The patient changed tactics and said that he was going to call his wife to come and get him. Good. I knew she would not come get him, they never do, and she might be able to talk some sense into him. I handed him the phone.

I had to leave to attend to another patient and when I came back, his nurse asked for my help getting him back to bed. His wife had not been home, which left him even more upset, so his nurse decided to just walk him to a commode chair by herself. The chair was lower than the bed and she couldn't get him up off the chair. Apparently, he decided it was okay to poop in a commode in the room while his roommate ate.

I wasn't happy, but said nothing. I'm tall and strong, so I lifted him up and swung him back to bed. Once tucked into bed, the patient was contrite. He apologized repeatedly while I told him it was okay. I'm not angry anymore, but I'm wondering what his nurse was thinking. If he had started to fall, she wasn't big enough to catch him. They both would have both gone down and she could have been fired for breaking protocol.

And for all of that trouble, all the patient did was pass some gas. It was a false alarm.


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6 Comments:

At 12/06/2007 03:57:00 AM, Blogger Alan said...

"Here I sit all broken hearted..."

 
At 12/06/2007 03:14:00 PM, Blogger Lisa said...

hehe..

I can't imagine him trying to walk on a newly replaced knee. I guess he found out that standing back up was difficult, huh? :)

 
At 12/06/2007 11:22:00 PM, Blogger dkgoodman said...

Assuming you could ever get me into a hospital, I'd probably try to avoid a bedpan too. I found myself sympathizing with the patient. I'd probably be just like him (except I'm not a vet). :)

 
At 12/08/2007 01:08:00 PM, Blogger Melissa said...

Alan, exactly. :)

Lisa, the next day, even with the physical therapists, he couldn't walk. It's a wonder he didn't go down face first with us.

Dave, I would feel the same way. We have one patient who when she needs a joint replaced plans ahead. She has nothing but clear liquids a couple of days before the surgery just to make sure she doesn't need to go #2 in a bedpan.

 
At 12/10/2007 11:40:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

From a Google search: http://oracleband.net/Lyrics/let-me-call-you-sweetheart.htm
"Composed in 1910 by Beth Slater Whitson & Leo Friedman"

Corrupted in 2007 by Anonymous. Sorry, Beth and Leo.

Let me call you "Sweetheart," I just have to poo.
Let me hear you whisper that you'll help me to.
Keep that arm around me as I limp to the head.
Let me call you "Sweetheart," I am out of bed!

Now just try to get that tune out of your mind!

 
At 12/16/2007 11:11:00 PM, Blogger Melissa said...

Anon, you went to a lot of trouble. Glad that I could inspire you that way.

 

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