The Boobs Of Justice

, , , , | Related | October 27, 2019

(For some reason, my mother-in-law is dead set against me breastfeeding my week-old daughter. We are going to see her 90-year-old mother who is in a nursing home, and she keeps on at me about it all the way there.)

Mother-In-Law: “Mum will tell you the same thing.”

(The new great-grandmother is so happy to hold her new great-granddaughter, but my daughter starts fussing and crying while she’s holding her.)

Grandmother: “Ooh, she’s hungry… Quick, get the boobies out.” 

(I nursed her before handing her back. I got stony silence all the way home.)

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Not What They Mean By Getting Plenty Of Bed Rest

, , , , | Healthy | October 19, 2019

(A group of residents with varying stages of dementia is sitting around a table having coffee near my desk in the front lobby. One of them asks a question of the others…)

Resident #1: “What happened to my hand?” 

(She has a bruise over her wrist and the back of her hand.)

Resident #2: “You fell out of your bed, remember? You landed on it.”

Resident #1: “Oh! I must have been having a good time in bed!”

(Both women cracked up laughing while the two men with them looked shocked. I managed to hold it together so they didn’t know I was listening in.)

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Don’t Grit Your Teeth To This

, , | Healthy | October 18, 2019

(I am helping an old lady getting ready for bed one evening at the nursing home. A part of that includes assisting her with brushing her teeth. Some old people have dentures, and I can’t remember whether this lady has or not.)

Me: “Do you have your own teeth?”

Resident: “Yes, I do.”

Me: “Okay, then, here’s your toothbrush.”

(The lady then pops out her dentures.)

Me: “I thought you had your own teeth?”

Resident: “I do. I bought and paid for them myself.”

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Crashing Into The Rainbow

, , , , | Working | October 16, 2019

(I am sitting at my desk, coloring the picture that’s on the next day’s schedule that we will post, so the residents have something cheerful to look at. We can’t print in color so I always do this. A visitor, who is a hospice nurse, comes in and see what I’m doing. I’m a cis female and the nurse is male. I happen to be coloring a picture of an ice cream cone in rainbow colors.)

Visitor: “Why are you doing that?”

Me: “Coloring? I like to post a colored version of the schedule so the residents have–”

Visitor:No. Why are you using those colors? It’s…” *whispers* “…gay.”

Me: “Yes, rainbow colors are generally used for Pride. June is Pride month, you know. Personally, I happen to be bi.” *cocks head and looks at him, just mentally willing him to say something*

Visitor: *eyes go wide* “You’re…YOU’RE GOING TO HELL!” *runs toward the door with his arm out to push it open, but alas, it is locked and he crashes into it*

Me: “Oh, sorry, let me get that for you.” *sickly sweet smile*

Visitor: *incoherent screaming as he runs outside*

(I have no patience for this kind of bulls***. And since this lovely gentleman was wearing scrubs with his company’s name and his name, I was able to tell them exactly what their employee did. They sent someone else over to cover his patients.)

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When Signing In Is A Bad Sign

, , , , | Right | October 10, 2019

(I haven’t even gotten to open my email this morning when the first visitor — a hospice aide — comes in. She immediately has a bad attitude and I’m thinking “it is way too early for this s***.”)

Me: “Good morning!”

Aide: “Is one of those a bathroom?” *nods towards two doors to the left*

Me: “The second one is.” *blinks as she stomps off* “You’ll need to come back and sign in when you’re done.”

Aide: *ignores me AND the sign on the door that says it’s the office and tries the first door anyway* “It’s locked. Why is it locked?”

Me: “Because that’s my boss’s office. The bathroom is the second door.”

Aide: “Well, why didn’t you say so?” *finally goes in the door that has a large “BATHROOM” sign on it*

Me: *eye-twitch*

(I greet another visitor and chat with her for a minute while the aide goes about her bathroom business and finally comes back out, heading off in the wrong direction, away from my desk.)

Me: “Ma’am? Can you come back up here for a minute, please?”

Aide: *huffs* “What?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you need to sign in, please.”

Aide: “Ugh, fine. Where’s the book?”

Me: “It’s this tablet, here.” *starts walking her through how to use it*

Aide: “I don’t think I need to be doing this.”

Me: “I’m sorry, everyone has to; otherwise, I can’t let you in. It’s for our residents’ security.”

Aide: “I really don’t think I need to do this, though.” *finishes signing in and starts to walk off again*

Me: “Ma’am? Please put this on!” *hands her a name badge that just printed out*

Aide: “I have to show this? Can I put it away?”

Me: “No, ma’am, you need to stick it on yourself so my coworkers know you’re okay to be here.”

Aide: “This is ridiculous.” *smacks the name badge onto her shirt, where it predictably falls to the floor because the genius didn’t take the sticky part off* “What the h***?”

Me: *barely resisting the urge to facepalm myself into a coma* “You need to peel the backing off first.”

Aide:God, this is so stupid!” *picks it off the floor and finally sticks it to herself and stomps off into the building, b****ing under her breath*

Me: “Have a good day!”

(It wasn’t even 7:30 yet!)

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