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Monday, January 20, 2014

The "Dancer" Story

Hey all!  First, I'd like to say thanks for all of the kind words you had about Friday's post.  You all are super sweet. I was able to spend the weekend with George, so I am in MUCH better spirits.

Alright, so I thought I'd start off the week with a little humor.  If anyone can poke fun at themselves, it's me.  So, here is a story of when I first started being a student nurse in May of 2008.

I had just started working as a tech in the ER, and I was greener than green.  (Now I have grown to become the inevitable: jaded.  Seriously, you can tell me how you "slipped" and "fell" on an object that ended up in your rectum, and I don't crack a smile.  I know a heroin addict from across the street.)  Anyways, I had VERY minimal experience with actual patients, and the hospital I was working at wasn't in the nicest area.  Actually, let's be was in the armpit of Indianapolis.  The patients were certainly interesting.  I'll just leave it at that.

I was FRESH off of orientation, and I was inserting a catheter into a young, female patient, about my age.  Now, I was kind of trying to make small talk to take her mind off of the experience.  (I now no longer make an effort to make small talk when performing procedures in the "nether regions").

The patient...God love her... looked like Amy Winehouse.  It is quite possible that she was just as stoned.

"So, are you in school?"-Me
"Oh, well what do you do?"-Me
"I'm a dancer."-Her
"OH MY GOD!  ME TOO!!!!!!"-Me

This is me...being a dancer....
She then gave me a weird look, rolled her eyes, and laid her head back down.

"I bet not" (under her breath)-Her
"Yes! I've been a dancer for years!  Where do you dance?"-Me
"**Names trashiest strip club in Indianapolis**....Where do YOU dance?"-Her

Now...she's laughing at me

"Indianapolis Ballet Theater"-Me

THANK GOD, by this point I was pretty much done.  I got all my trash together and bolted out of the room.  These are the things that they don't teach in nursing school.  Dancer = Stripper... always.

So there you have it... The "dancer" story.  My coworkers make me tell it at least monthly, and I get to relive the embarrassment all over.

Maybe next week I'll share the origins of the "Scabies Aint NASTY!"story.

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