Nurses on the other hand are made of sturdier stuff. The signal is sent. They jump in the car with their bag filled to overflowing with bandages, tapes, saline solutions, etc. and off they go to save the day once again. Batnurse!
So far the nurses visiting have numbered four. Robert was first, followed by Rod, Val, and today Emma. Emma assured me that I've now gone through all the male nurses in the company. While each is trained and efficient, they all have their own ways of attempting to make me feel comfortable and establish a relationship. Rod for instance took an interest in the soccer match I had on the TV, though it was quite obvious he didn't know anything about soccer. Robert gave a blow by blow commentary on what he was doing. Val, well Val just got in and out (he was only coming the once, subbing for Rod). Emma gave me a behind the scenes of the company and the personalities involved.
What they all have in common is threefold. First, they all feel it necessary to ring the doorbell and before I can even get up to let them in, they begin to bang on the door. At first I was annoyed, but I realized I'm probably the youngest person they deal with. Second they take one look out the back window and talk about how peaceful our community is. Well yes, lagoons, fountains, ducks swimming by, yeah I guess it's pretty tranquil. Third, they all demand to know if I'm diabetic. Um, isn't that in your notes that I'm not? I sure hope it is and I'll thank you to put that insulin away Mr.Von Bulow.
All of this leads up to the moment when my leg is propped up and the bandage comes off and I see a giant gaping slash down the side of my foot (it's a good thing I can't see the one on my heel). "Oh it's so good, it's red" the nurse will exclaim, "that means the tissue is regenerating and growing again." I bet you say that to all the boys because it sure doesn't look good to me. To me it looks like the Joker had just pronounced "Let's put a smile on that face!". But no, they continue in their insistence that everything is fine. Hey, if it was fine, you wouldn't be here. The dressing gets changed in a timely and professional manner. My blood pressure, pulse and temperature are all recorded for posterity. I'm signed sealed and delivered. Someone will be by tomorrow between noon and one.
If I sound like a grouch then I apologize. All of this probably comes from my natural dislike of having people I don't really know in my home. Let's face it, most people feel awkward when a repair person comes tromping through their house. It's triple awkward when that repair person is there to fix your body. If a man's home is his castle and your body is a temple then when that nurse is here my castle is under siege and my body is being desecrated.
I'm sure this is just my own paranoia, but each simple question asked makes me think there is an ulterior motive for it. "Do you have a plastic bag?" asked only so they have something to throw used gauze into has me wondering if they are judging as to my carbon footprint on the earth. "Where is the bathroom?" makes me wonder if I cleaned the toilet and if I didn't, well then what the hell is (s)he going to think? They glance around the house and I worry they are secretly the scouting crew for the next episode of HOARDERS.
It's okay, I'll get a grip. The two month anniversary is approaching and my mind is wandering since my body can't. When my mind wanders I find it helpful to laugh. So let this be your Friday fun, from the only cartoon series I let Brian and Dan watch when young. Mostly because I thought it was so damn funny:
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