So, something new.
Awhile back, a good friend of mine who actually reads this nonsense (for some inexplicable reason) suggested that some of the stories/memories I've got of times past might well be a good thing to post in this here blog. After ruminating on it for a period of time, I've decided that I'm going to give that a try.
I don't like living in the past that much. Given what's happened to me in my life, it'd be REAL easy to live in the pre-June 1994 world - before I was diagnosed with MS and the world turned upside down - but I've chosen not to do that, and I won't pull a politician-type flip-flop and start doing it now.
Still, some of these memories are funny. Some are a bit tragic, some maudlin, some ridiculous. Feel free to use your own adjectives as you see fit. I'm going to try and do this once a week. Wish me luck.
Of Evergreen Hospital, wound care, and Baby Spice Nurse
My hospital stay from August - December 2000 is well documented on this blog. But there are funny stories I left out. This is one of them. I won't be using any names here, but I hope you'll find it amusing nonetheless.
I was in the hospital with major league wounds on my posterior, which is what you get when you have to sit on ass all the time without the proper seat cushion. The event I'm describing here occurred pre-surgery, when we were still trying to heal the damned things using conventional means.
There were dressings on my wounds, obviously, which required a bandage change on a daily basis. One of the nurses who would do these bandage changes was a very pretty lady who looked an awful lot like Emma Bunton, better known to most of you as Baby Spice. I'll refer to her as BSN from now on, for Baby Spice Nurse.
One day, she was changing the bandages, which (unfortunately for her) requires the changer to get pretty close to the wound. So, in simple terms, her head was pretty close to my posterior.
There was a running gag going on during this part of my hospitalization about my "agent"... in this situation, this was a bad euphemism for my asshole. (You know, "Talk to my agent, but be forewarned, he's an asshole")
On this day, while BSN was changing my bandages ... my agent spoke - not loudly, but loud enough to get his point across. She was so close to it that we actually saw her hair move, like she was sitting outside on a nice summer day with a cool breeze blowing. This was about the funniest thing any of us (myself and the CNA who was there at the time) had seen in quite some time.
Talk to my agent. He's an asshole. And he has bad breath.
I don't like living in the past that much. Given what's happened to me in my life, it'd be REAL easy to live in the pre-June 1994 world - before I was diagnosed with MS and the world turned upside down - but I've chosen not to do that, and I won't pull a politician-type flip-flop and start doing it now.
Still, some of these memories are funny. Some are a bit tragic, some maudlin, some ridiculous. Feel free to use your own adjectives as you see fit. I'm going to try and do this once a week. Wish me luck.
Of Evergreen Hospital, wound care, and Baby Spice Nurse
My hospital stay from August - December 2000 is well documented on this blog. But there are funny stories I left out. This is one of them. I won't be using any names here, but I hope you'll find it amusing nonetheless.
I was in the hospital with major league wounds on my posterior, which is what you get when you have to sit on ass all the time without the proper seat cushion. The event I'm describing here occurred pre-surgery, when we were still trying to heal the damned things using conventional means.
There were dressings on my wounds, obviously, which required a bandage change on a daily basis. One of the nurses who would do these bandage changes was a very pretty lady who looked an awful lot like Emma Bunton, better known to most of you as Baby Spice. I'll refer to her as BSN from now on, for Baby Spice Nurse.
One day, she was changing the bandages, which (unfortunately for her) requires the changer to get pretty close to the wound. So, in simple terms, her head was pretty close to my posterior.
There was a running gag going on during this part of my hospitalization about my "agent"... in this situation, this was a bad euphemism for my asshole. (You know, "Talk to my agent, but be forewarned, he's an asshole")
On this day, while BSN was changing my bandages ... my agent spoke - not loudly, but loud enough to get his point across. She was so close to it that we actually saw her hair move, like she was sitting outside on a nice summer day with a cool breeze blowing. This was about the funniest thing any of us (myself and the CNA who was there at the time) had seen in quite some time.
Talk to my agent. He's an asshole. And he has bad breath.
posted by Scott Wedel at 12:24 PM
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