“YOU PICKED ORANGE” by SSK Chapter 39
or “Is That A Horse Fly Or A Very Small Hanglider?”
and “What is that STINK???
and “Maggots? Really? MAGGOTS??
No shit! Actually, there might have been shit. After all, shit, flies, maggots, they're sort of the Evil Triumverate of Wound Care.
I had been so looking forward to K's first day in the PT Gym, I was devastated when his appointment had to be cancelled, but the reason for it was... serious.
(Because Lori had been so good at getting Kimit up and moving, with only a walker, she got him onto that day's roster for the PT Gym, this morning, at 10:00.The head of PT? The little pezzonovanti who declared K would never walk again [as had so many others, only to be proven wrong]? I added him to the list of people who, if they spotted me, ran for their very lives.)
I got to the Asylum at about 8 a.m., and the first thing I noticed when I walked into the building, at the nursing desk, was a stench that could have knocked a buzzard off a crap wagon. Imagine the prickles of unease that ran over my skin as I approached Kimit's room, and realized that the stench was coming from there.
And the rest of this mornings' tale meant K's 10:00 A.M. PT was cancelled; the stench was not coming from my husband; it was coming from Bill.
(Now, again I ask that you recall, I have worked in hospitals, in all manner of jobs, and have smelled some smells that could desmellify your nasal passages for the rest of time.
I thought that the woman who's chosen profession was prostitute, giving birth in our ER [at Good Samaritan, downtown L.A.] and spewing her bag of waters [not the normally clear, clean smelling water most women produce when their water breaks]: these were a brown, gloppy, sloppy liquid, was the worst smell I had smelled, but we had a contender for the title of Smelliest of Smellies in Bill [NOT his fault in any way, so please don't think I am blaming Bill for ANYthing]. The baby, by the way, and I know this is an“urban legend”, but I actually witnessed it: the infant was born with a condom on his head. No kidding. Not funny. Very bad and awful.
But... there was a scosh of funny [before the actual birth of the baby with the makings of a haberdasher] because it came in the form of an example of taking someone down a peg or ten: the ER Intern was sitting, at the business end of that mommy to be, squatting on a small, round chair, looking for all the world like Johnny Bench without the protective gear.
No one liked this woman. She was arrogant, was “always correct”, had no problem bursting in on other people's conversations to tell them that their opinion was idiotic; you know, a Republican.
I was in the ER, and not in my normal spot behind the desk at Labor and Delivery, 8th floor North, because they'd called me to bring what we called an “Asepsis Kit”, which was a compact little package that contained sterile gloves and gowns and plastic face shields, because when a child is born in the ER it meant that the child would be born into a world of filth and germs [the ER] as opposed to my home floor (L&D], which was apparently run through an autoclave every morning when I went home.
However... I took enough pity on the intern to tell her, “You might want to move over a little.” She didn't move. She said, “Don't tell me what to do” [words to that effect]. The rest of the ER staff, and the two RN's in the room, I noticed, were doing their damndest to A] shut me up because they wanted to see this nasty creep put in her place [because she was mean, not because she was a female] and B] while trying to shut me up, some were shoving their entire fists into their mouths so they wouldn't crack up themselves. Several people had to walk down the hall, go into an empty room, and, one could hear, faintly, hooting and whooping and mad hyena cackles, even with the door shut.
So, the Arrogant Intern didn't move. She stayed right where she was, staring into the canal from which we all come [one way or another] and then...
… uh huh. It happened. The mommy gave one final, grand grunt, and a push, and KERSPLAT: The intern was covered, head to toe, with the most foul smelling amniotic fluid, ever.
And it was lumpy. I turned around, almost fell out of the room, shoving the asepsis kit at an RN, tears of laughter running down my face, and left the ER and NICU staffs to deal with the mess: the mother [who was already demanding a sandwich; it happens, really], the befouled intern, and the brand newest baby child to be put into Family Care. Dammit, I didn't want to end this on a sad note.
So I will lie, um, say: I followed this kid through his life and he is now second chair violin, at the New York Philharmonic. Aaah. That's better.)
Zap: back to Now. Well, then, but now for my purposes, and Bill and his amazing stench. I rushed past him (Bill didn't say... anything, come to think), pulled the curtain shut and took up my spot on K's right side, as he was still in bed.
As quietly as I could, I asked him: “How can you stand that smell? What IS that smell? I think that smell is a living entity and might kill us just for talking about it, HOLY SHIT, why does he smell like that??”
Kimit sighed. “Try sleeping through it.”
That pulled me up by the short hairs. “You mean... he's stunk like that all night?”
K nodded. “All fucking night. I walked down the hall around midnight and slept on one of the sofas in the hallway to the dining room.”
OKAY!!!!!!! CAMBRIAN HAWK WOMAN??? No more. I became RAMPAGING T-REX.
My husband had to SLEEP ON A SOFA IN THE HALLWAY, AND NO ONE ON NIGHT SHIFT DID ANYTHING ABOUT IT???
In a flash of time, as if I'd tesseracted, I was at the nursing desk. And there was Lori. She was getting report from a night shifter RN, and glanced up at me as I “skadoosh”, appeared from the clear air. She saw, not CHW. She saw T-Rex Killer Woman.
She asked what was going on. I told her, in an extremely carrying voice, that Kimit had had to sleep on a sofa in the hallway last night because of the stench coming from his roommate AND NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON ON NIGHT SHIFT ASKED WHY.
The RN opposite Lori turned crimson. Aha: on my first cast, I'd hooked the licensed nurse who had “taken care of” Kimit that night, and “taken care”? Where'd she get her license, the “Dr. Mengele Utterly Inept, 'Love to Torture Patients' RN License Company?? I turned my beady little T-Rex eyes on her: she blossomed from crimson to a colour of red for which there is no word. And she was looking down the barrel of a VERY pissed off T-Rex Killer Woman.
“You had my husband as a patient last night?” The nurse mumbled something. I asked, “What was that? Did you say you were his nurse last night?” She nodded, and tried to continue her report on another patient, but Lori halted her, full-stop, saying “Hold on there, Kimit slept on a sofa in the hall last night?”
The nurse nodded again. Lori said, and she was rapidly joining me in the CHW/T-Rex category of anger, “Why didn't you so something about that? And why didn't you tell me that in report?”
The nurse had no answer. She merely handed Lori her written notes, got up, went to the cupboard, got her purse, and walked out of the Asylum. I looked at Lori, but she was already down the hall, turning into K's room. She came out less than 60 seconds later, went to the phone, and called for a unit to transport K's roommate back to the hospital, for proper care.
As for the night shifter? I'd have torn her head off and used it as a planter but my teeny little T-Rex arms were too short.
Together Lori and I, in silence, went back to K's room, and Lori pulled back the sheet covering Bill's right flank.
And, yes, ladies and gentlemen, we had maggots. We also had putrescence and an extremely infected, very deep wound, which had obviously had not been seen to for days.
Days.
Bill was picked up by two EMT's, who both reacted to the stink by being completely professional, but the tears running down both of their faces? It was impossible to tell if they were from the stench, or from pity for poor Bill.
I choose pity. Lori, Goddess bless her heart, had helped the EMT's get Bill packaged up and into their bus, and then she held up one finger to me, which told me clearly that she needed a few minutes. She went into the break room, and I heard her sob for, well, a long time.
I went back to K's room; I sat on his bed and put my arms around him. He was utterly exhausted. This situation was so far beyond the word “unprofessional” that the only one that come even close is “murderous”. Insane. Unprofessional murderous insanity.
However... two days later, Kimit got another roommate. That, too, would end badly.
Because of the second roommate? The shit would not just hit the fan: it would splatter and spray and coat people and walls and floors and pocket protectors.
And it would be the first time I demanded, DEMANDED, a face to face to face with the fucking idiots running this joint.
They came to that meeting completely unprepared to meet my new persona: Cambrian Raptor T-Rex Monster Killer Woman....
who knew ALL of the laws in this state about competence in medical care. In other words? My mish mash of mother grizzly bear, T-Rex and Hawk Woman was done letting them get away with this astounding pile of bullshit they were trying to use to hide from me and my many, skeeeeeeeeeery personations. My EDUCATED personations.
It's gonna be a corker. 39