Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Heaving Bosoms and Throbbing Manhood: Part II
Indeed I believe I can make this heading into a two parter. While the first was primarily literary in nature, the following tends more towards the patients under my constant and ever excellent care in the horsepital. Here goes:
Heaving Bosoms:
Heaving Bosoms:
- While attempting to place the heart monitor electrodes on a patient, it would seem that her rather large, flapjack-nearly-to-her-waist breasts were impeding my ability to place the heart leads where they ought to be. Which prompted a phrase, like so many phrases I find myself uttering at work, that I never thought I'd ever have to vocalize: "Excuse me, Ma'am. I can't quite reach. Could you please hold your breast up for me?"
- My patient last night made me take off her bra because she herself couldn't reach the back snap with the IV in her hand. I felt like a total pervert.
- Often times when the elderly are bedridden in the hospital for prolonged periods of time, they get a little swollen with fluid. When that prolonged period of time is even more prolonged and you toss in, say, a large exploratory surgery, some time on a ventilator, two rotten kidneys and a bad ticker, the swelling can be tremendous. Fluid retention in such cases, for the most part, starts in the hands and feet, then the legs, then the abdomen. When it gets bad enough, few of your 2,000 will be spared from the puffiness. And for a dude, that primarily means that your junk is going to be huge. And not in a good way. (Incidentally, the best way to help lower the swelling is to elevate the offending limb; leg, arms, etc. In the aforementioned cases, however, I happen to be an excellent elevator of junk. I learned a great technique from an ICU nurse while in school and can sling that scrotum high enough with merely two hand towels to get it at least 25% smaller in 12 hours. It's a skill and a talent. And it rarely hurts. I can see my gentlemen readers grimacing now.) So my patient a few weeks ago fell victim to his circumstances (extended bed rest, bad kidneys or "beans" as we call them, sucky ticker and a nice large surgical wound from chin to navel.) and was therefore, much to his chagrin, sporting a rather cantaloupe sized manpart. Not ever carrying around said part, normal or enlarged, I understand there to be a small amount of thigh maneuvering needed for basic movement. This dude, however, was deliberately avoiding any and all movement because of, I guess, the physics of balancing a very sore cantaloupe on ones thighs. Sure enough, the time came when I had to move him. With visitors in the next bed, I lowered my voice for his privacy. With my two hands under his junk ready to lift it off his thighs for movement, I whispered to him, "You're going to move your legs to the side of the bed and I'm going to pick you (meaning, rather, "it") up on the count of three." His arms shot out and grabbed my wrists and with the most pathetic of faces and the most desperate of voices he said, "Please don't pick me up off the bed by my scrotum!" This poor bastard thought I was going to literally move his entire body via his scrotum.
# posted by Cathy @ 11:34:00 PM 
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I think I almost gave myself an anoxic brain injury from laughing. I've elevated plenty of nutsack in my day. Ever seen Fournier's gangrene?
And no matter what is wrong with a man, swollen junk is their #1 worry/complaint. No arms or legs? Reconstructive facial surgery? Hovering between life and death? BAH. His junk hurts.
I have not had the gangrenous pleasure of meeting Mr. Fournier. Judging by the look of it in google, I'd say I'm not too upset about it. I've had a few very strange cases of necrotizing fascitis (or as the hot shots call it - nec-fash)on limbs. Gentially speaking, a few penis cancers (no vagina cancers...score 1 for women), missing testicles that I lovingly chart as "admitted to unit with one testicle" for legal reasons. I'd hate to be sued for the replacement ball.
When I was a student an ICU nurse I was with was trying to elevate some se-hear-iously swollen junk and she accidentally put her gloved thumb through the scrotum skin and popped his sack. It was way gross. He was comatose, but imagine that conversation when he wakes up.
I have not had the gangrenous pleasure of meeting Mr. Fournier. Judging by the look of it in google, I'd say I'm not too upset about it. I've had a few very strange cases of necrotizing fascitis (or as the hot shots call it - nec-fash)on limbs. Gentially speaking, a few penis cancers (no vagina cancers...score 1 for women), missing testicles that I lovingly chart as "admitted to unit with one testicle" for legal reasons. I'd hate to be sued for the replacement ball.
When I was a student an ICU nurse I was with was trying to elevate some se-hear-iously swollen junk and she accidentally put her gloved thumb through the scrotum skin and popped his sack. It was way gross. He was comatose, but imagine that conversation when he wakes up.
OMG, Cathy. You have me busting my nuts again. It's too bad we're not working on the same unit. We could elevate some serious balls.
The hospital I used to work at was notorious for nec-fasc. One of my Fournier's gangrene pt's told me "Don't take your eyes off of it! It's all I have!" as I was diligently figure-8'ing his spermatic cords with Kerlix.
I cannot believe you popped that poor man's nutsack. That's a resume builder for sure!
The hospital I used to work at was notorious for nec-fasc. One of my Fournier's gangrene pt's told me "Don't take your eyes off of it! It's all I have!" as I was diligently figure-8'ing his spermatic cords with Kerlix.
I cannot believe you popped that poor man's nutsack. That's a resume builder for sure!
I was merely aparty to the popping of the nutsack. It was my preceptor who did the popping and it was me saying, "Holy shit! His balls are leaking! So, um, how do I chart that?"
I did have an elderly male patient a long long time ago who, after much finagling with his Texas catheter offered to take my dancing since it seems we already got acquainted.
I did have an elderly male patient a long long time ago who, after much finagling with his Texas catheter offered to take my dancing since it seems we already got acquainted.
That being said, I believe that you and I would make magic together with the ball sling we'd create.
But I'm confident we're doing out part for ball slinging on both coasts. Bravo!
But I'm confident we're doing out part for ball slinging on both coasts. Bravo!
Yeah, how do you chart that his balls are leaking?
Did I ever tell you that I met Britney Spears twin? I was taking care of a Hep C guy with a seriously nasty MRSA midline incision (can't remember why he had surgery in the first place). We were doing wet to dry dressing changes, the asshole chief resident with a serious Napoleon complex tossed the dirty gauze on me and left the room, so while I was trying to regain my composure, my pt was telling me all about his girlfriend.
When "she" came to visit my pt, it turned out she was the spitting image of Brit Brit, only she had her junk taped down. The outfit was amazing. Knee high socks (a la Catholic school girl), pleated plaid mini, belly shirt, pigtails and then I realized ...
One eye goin' hunting and one eye goin' fishing! Her eyes were seriously wonky.
To top it off, for taking such good care of her man, she made me a bracelet with his old home O2 tubing. That's right, USED nasal cannulas.
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Did I ever tell you that I met Britney Spears twin? I was taking care of a Hep C guy with a seriously nasty MRSA midline incision (can't remember why he had surgery in the first place). We were doing wet to dry dressing changes, the asshole chief resident with a serious Napoleon complex tossed the dirty gauze on me and left the room, so while I was trying to regain my composure, my pt was telling me all about his girlfriend.
When "she" came to visit my pt, it turned out she was the spitting image of Brit Brit, only she had her junk taped down. The outfit was amazing. Knee high socks (a la Catholic school girl), pleated plaid mini, belly shirt, pigtails and then I realized ...
One eye goin' hunting and one eye goin' fishing! Her eyes were seriously wonky.
To top it off, for taking such good care of her man, she made me a bracelet with his old home O2 tubing. That's right, USED nasal cannulas.
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