Toad in the Hole

December 09, 2006

Two Twisty Moments(tm) in Twenty-Four Hours

In Costco yesterday: A stray set of balls, soccer- and basket-, baby-blue with pink trim, in a pink-and-blue box, "Empower girls to play sports!" said the blue swirly script.

This morning's Chron: AP Story about some Hooters knockoff where the waitresses wear "~naughty nurse~" costumes. Take-away line, from the joint's owner: "If anything, I think it glorifies nurses to be thought of as a physically attractive and desirable individual," Basso said. "There's a Faye Dunaway, Florence Nightingale hipness to it. Nobody wants to think of themselves as some old battle ax who changes bedpans for a living."

Right there's my nomination for candidate of the day, Category 2B Award: Guys who should die in a puddle of their own shit already. And wouldn't you enjoy seeing him looking at your upside-down smiling face in your ER some enchanted evening? Well, if he's physically attractive enough of course. Wouldn't want to spoil the fantasy while you're on top of him doing CPR, and it takes a special sort of good looks to be presentable while intubated.

I suppose if anyone wanted to picket the place for any reason, nice laminated blow-ups of ER scenes would be appropriate. And be sure to smile the whole time. And/or laugh. You want to bring out the prude in some civilian, start telling the jokes nurses tell and watch 'em flinch.

Posted at December 9, 2006 05:41 PM

Comments

Just for the record, the one nurse who came closer to killing me than any other healthcare professional on record (air bubbles in the IV, yo) was cute as a button -- and phoney as a three-dollar bill. It's hard to care for others when one is completely obsessed with oneself. Or so I speculate.

Hey, I just read about your sister over at Twistyville. Mazeltov to your clan, too.

Posted by: Sara at December 9, 2006 09:18 PM


Thenkew. I'm rather thrilled myself.

For the other record: If I recall correctly and for what it's worth, it would take a hell of a big bubble in the line to kill you. A good nurse is scrupulous about them, you bet, but it's a risk, not a certainty.

Then again, it's been 20-some years since I was in practice, so.

Posted by: Ron at December 10, 2006 06:09 AM


Yeah, big congrats on your sister. Blessed be her name. (I've decided to take variations on this phrase for my own and ride it forever.)

A story:

A year or so ago, I saw the actress Julia Stiles on the Daily Show, plugging Mona Lisa Smile, I think. She assured Jon that despite being in a movie with an almost all woman cast, where the characters are encouraged to do and be all they can be (or whatever, I didn't see the movie), she was not, however, "a feminazi or anything."

So, Miss Patsy and I watched the remake of the Omen the other day, largely because I knew we'd get to watch Julia die at the hands of Damian, the Satan child, and I'd really been wanting to satisfy the grudge I'd been carrying against Julia.

Imagine my delight when Mia Farrow (as Satan's evil nanny) kills Julia in a hospital bed by injecting air into her IV. It was sweet.

Posted by: B. Dagger Lee at December 10, 2006 04:40 PM


Good to know, Ron, thanks!

And you know, it's true that I am not the world's easiest patient. However, when I noticed the air bubble (just as the tubes were being hooked together), I said, "I guess this is silly, but I always heard that air in the line could kill you. I guess that's an urban legend or something, huh?" and then laughed sort of self-deprecatingly. If Nurse Barbie (not her real name) had simply said to me, "Oh, that little bubble [the size of a glass marble]? Why that's not nearly enough to kill you or even make you sick," I might not have assessed her as quite so incompetent/negligent/hateful. Instead, her eyes dilated, her face blanched under her makeup, and she pinched her mouth shut while silently and hurriedly getting that bubble out. This was at the end of a long shift for her with me which had started when I woke up in a small puddle of my own urine in spite of the fact that I was catheterized. (Hey, at least -- as far as I know -- it wasn't someone else's urine, right?) At some point, instead of listening to something I was telling her about what I expected from her, she also said, "Well aren't you just the cutest thing?" which made me squint at her and yet not slap her. I wanted to demand a different nurse on the spot, but felt too vulnerable.

And I want to be clear that the other nurses who have treated me in my life were not uniformly ugly women or anything. This is just the one who seemed to take the most trouble to be the most conventionally pretty -- bleached hair, careful makeup, etc. -- and she was also the one who treated me the most terrifyingly. Seriously, it was the not listening and not interacting with me like a human thing. It was putting all that energy into cultivating a false, sugary veneer instead of actually treating *me*.

***

BDL, it makes me very, very sad when young women say things like that, especially young women in the media. It reflects such a profound failure of understanding. In person, you can say, "And what exactly do you think a 'feminazi' is?" And then you can have a conversation, and maybe educate the poor creature to stick up for herself a little better, if not right in that moment, maybe later after she thinks about it a little bit. But when young women in the media say things like this, well, we all know who benefits. Yeah, it begins with a P.

(sigh)

Now, how big an amount of air did Nurse Mia use to kill Satan's stepmommy? Just curious. ;)

Posted by: Sara at December 13, 2006 05:08 PM


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