I went to see a patient recently - while I was trying to examine him he started to peel off the sticky dots with metal buttons that serve as ECG leads. I thought I'd give him a hand, just to try to build up some patient rapport, that kind of thing. But as I reached down to the V3 lead he drooled on me, on my bare skin on the hairy part of my wrist. Ew!
But wait, there's more.
Later on I was walked around and I noticed that my right shoe was going click, click, click. Must be a drawing pin in the bottom of my shoe, I thought. On inspection though I found that I had a big sticky ECG dot on the sole of my shoe.
So there I am, adopting the "I've just stepped in dog poo" posture while I'm trying to peel this thing off my shoe in the nurses station, when around the corner comes a nurse, who stops and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.
I paused dramatically and said, "I think I've been going too hard with my chest compressions".
Boom-TISH!
Showing posts with label poop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poop. Show all posts
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Floater
A nurse remarked to me recently, "Mr Surname has been particularly appreciate of his floater over the last few days." Eh?
For those of you not in the know, a floater is a hot meat pie floundering in a mire of mushy peas, strongly associated with winter and football. Mr Surname must have been ringing in the festive season in style.
But no - not that type of floater. Surely he wasn't referring to a leftover bit of poop that resolutely refuses to flush? Why would you be appreciative of that?
Or perhaps the floater he meant was the body of a drowned person, bobbing gently under the buoyancy of its internal gases. Something to appreciate, surely, if only because of a schadenfreudesque relief - "There but for the grace of God go I..."
Aaaah - I have it! He was referring to the perception of irregularities in the vitreous humor of his own eyeball. He spends his days staring at the sky marvelling at the drifting, dancing angels always just beyond his reach.
Again - no. The floater in question was a dose of oxazepam, an anxiolytic, available to be taken at any time as Mr Surname saw fit. That would certainly make a trip to the football much more bearable.
For those of you not in the know, a floater is a hot meat pie floundering in a mire of mushy peas, strongly associated with winter and football. Mr Surname must have been ringing in the festive season in style.
But no - not that type of floater. Surely he wasn't referring to a leftover bit of poop that resolutely refuses to flush? Why would you be appreciative of that?
Or perhaps the floater he meant was the body of a drowned person, bobbing gently under the buoyancy of its internal gases. Something to appreciate, surely, if only because of a schadenfreudesque relief - "There but for the grace of God go I..."
Aaaah - I have it! He was referring to the perception of irregularities in the vitreous humor of his own eyeball. He spends his days staring at the sky marvelling at the drifting, dancing angels always just beyond his reach.
Again - no. The floater in question was a dose of oxazepam, an anxiolytic, available to be taken at any time as Mr Surname saw fit. That would certainly make a trip to the football much more bearable.
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