A Hundred and Two
When I first started at Homeland, I was calling the Consulting Nurses about a new admission and all I wanted was to contact the doctor to verify her admission orders. I had never called them before, and I wasn't familiar with the process of having to give them a lot of background information. I thought they would just put me through to the doctor, and I became impatient. So when the consulting nurse heard the person's birthdate, she said, "Wow, she's a hundred and two!" And out of my mouth came, "Yes, that's why I'd like to speak to the doctor while she's still alive."
They sent a complaint to us, because the nurse was offended, and I had to write a pretty and contrite apology to the nurse and say I never meant to hurt her feelings [I didn't.] I just couldn't resist a cheap shot.
Usually I'm horribly mortified when I get written up, but to this day I still think it was worth it.
The "Y" Dance
Tonight one of the nursing assistants remembered working with a gentleman in rehab who was a hundred and ten. He was able, fit, and agile. One day he said to her, "Let me show you the 'Y' Dance. First you put your hand on my shoulder, and I put my hand on your hip, and we snuggle up . . . " Then he said in her ear, "Now. Why dance?"
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