Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Do Your Balls Hang Low? Do They Swing To And Fro?

So, it is my first quarter of nursing school. After weeks of didactic, they finally let us into the hospital and near actual patients. We really weren't allowed to do anything "nursey". The first day we were allowed to take the patient's vital signs, make their bed and talk to them that was it.

My bitch of an instructor give me an "F" the first day because the seam on the top sheet faced the wrong way when I made the bed.

The second day, we are allowed to do the same stuff we did the first day AND set the patient up for a bath. We either give them a bed bath or we help them do their own "PTA" bath in the bathroom.

The patient that was assigned to me on my second day was a cute little old man, who could get out of bed and walk on his own. So, I wouldn't be giving a bed bath. Here is how my morning went:

I walked into the room. The little old man is flipping his sheets around and muttering to himself, he looks quite distressed. I say to him "Good Morning, Mr. 'Smith'. My name is Michele and I will be the nursing student taking care of you this morning".

He just snorts and continues to flip his bedding around. "Mr. Smith, is something wrong? Is there something I can help you with?" I ask in my sweet nursing student voice. "I have lost my watch. I can't find my watch. I don't know where it is." replies the little old man.

Now, I don't want to get in trouble with my bitchy instructor AGAIN. So, I have to get this man's vital signs taken, bath started and bed changed before she waddles her bitter ass into the room. I have to think quickly!

I look around and do not see his watch anywhere. I ask him to sit back and describe his watch to me, where he last saw it, etc. whilst I take his vital signs. I get his vitals, he gives me the details, and "it is silver, has one of those stretchy bands and has a black face"

I then tell him that while he is taking his bath, shaving and brushing his teeth, I will change his bed, straighten up his room and find his watch for him. He is so upset about his watch; I know he will not do anything I ask unless I GUARANTEE I will find his watch. While he is considering my proposal, I set up his toiletries, towels, clean hospital gown, etc. in the bathroom for him.

He eventually agrees and gets out of bed. Somehow, in the night, his gown has come untied in the back. So his posterior is in full view as he slowly strolls to the bathroom.

Now, I am in my early 20's when this happened. I was not comfortable with seeing ANY strangers' naked backside. But, I had never seen an old man ass and I had never known (they should have warned us before we came to the hospital) that old man balls HANG. I mean really hang, like almost to their knees! So, my first view was quite shocking and I tried to busy myself with the search for the watch and bed linen changing. But old man ass/ball hanging is kind of like a car accident; you HAVE to look.

Thank goodness I looked because, right there in front of me, as my little bow-legged-saggy-butt-hangy-balled little man walked to bathroom. I FOUND THE WATCH! Hanging from one of the few, but quite long, hairs left on his scrotum is his watch. Swinging back and forth between his little bowlegs! I act quickly! I sneak in behind him and snatch the watch! He never even knew I was there! I quickly threw it into the bed and shouted "Mr. Smith! I found it!"

Just then, my instructor walked in. She asked my patient how I was taking care of him. He was so happy I found his watch; he gave me a rave review. I got an "A" for the day.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

How Paul Became Mr. Misha.

Okay, so there have been some requests to hear how Paul became Mr. Misha. I wish I could find our emails that we exchanged...they are truly hysterical. But alas, after transferring my documents from computer to computer over the years and also going from PC to Mac...some stuff has been lost. I will try and do my best to give you a taste of what transpired. Here goes:

I was cruising around looking for my future husband. The pickings were a little slim within a 50-mile radius of Napa. So, I widened my search. On the list, was a guy with the display name of "Pete Moss". He had a devilish grin and his quote was something like "my mama raised me right". I read his profile and thought, "This guy has potential.” had just come out with this new thing called a wink. You could wink at someone and let him or her know that you were interested in him or her. It is a way to communicate your interest without composing a witty email. 

So I winked at "Pete Moss".

I expected him to email back or ignore it. Paul didn't email me- instead he winked back. What I didn't know is that it was 4 days after payday and Paul was broke. Paul will tell you himself, he is the richest man in the world for the first three days after payday and the poorest for the next ten. I was a day late. I was a little annoyed; I had just worked 4 nights in a row and wasn't feeling particularly witty. He was forcing my hand. So I wrote back and called him a stinker.

While I was calling him a stinker, Paul was trying to borrow enough money to renew his lapsed membership. 

Paul found the money and wrote me back. He wrote that he had done some Internet searching and found out that I had witnessed "a whacking in Cotati". He wrote that I would be going into the witness protection program, would soon be taken to a desert island and the FBI needed some information on my likes and dislikes to make my stay more comfortable.

I can't remember all of the questions, but here are some: 

10 favorite movies, 

10 favorite TV shows,

10 favorite books,

10 favorite albums, 10 favorite foods. I wrote back and explained to him that when I was in Cotati, I was a drunk bridesmaid and that I was rolling around on the pool table with the bride, reenacting the "Like a Virgin" video. I could barely remember the name of the groom the next day, let alone testify about a whacking. I went ahead and answered his questions. I found out later that he was a little hesitant to continue corresponding with me, because I was "A Reader". 

We emailed back and forth for about a week and then progressed to telephone calls. He was cracking me up. I was really digging him. We finally agreed to meet and he volunteered to come up to Napa for our date. 

I was house sitting for a nurse colleague of mine. So, I felt pretty safe having him come to HER house.

I had my chaperone all set up but Paul foiled my plan. He was FOUR HOURS LATE! He kept emailing and messaging me to let me know he was going to get there eventually. 

When he finally arrived, all forlorn and apologetic, I couldn't find a chaperone. So, I risked it and went out to dinner with him.

He seemed nice, but he wouldn't look me in the eye. He kept averting his eyes when he would talk with me. I didn't know what was up. I thought maybe he was trying not to stare at my chest. 

After dinner, we went back to the house. We sat in the living room and talked, for hours. Paul fell asleep, mid sentence, around 4 a.m. I woke him up and put him in the spare bedroom. There was no way he could drive back to San Jose. I went to the master bedroom, locked the door and went to sleep. 

About 6 hours later, I hear a knock at the door. It is Paul, with coffee and donuts. So, we sit out in the backyard, drinking coffee, eating donuts and smoking' cigarettes. His phone rings, it is his mom. She asks him how his date went. He tells her "I am still on it, Mom". He then holds the phone so I can hear her her thick Polish accent she says, "Pawel, you were gentleman, yes?” I almost snorted coffee out my nose. Paul reassures his mother that he was a gentleman and slept in the spare room. Paul tells his mother he will call her later and hangs up. 

We spent about 4 more hours together. We drove to the house his parents owned in Napa when he was born. He made fun of my laptop and tried to make it run faster. He still never looked me in the eye.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

I Should Have Gone To Spin Class.

A long time ago, I joined (It's how I met Mr. Misha) Some of my family, friends and coworkers were worried that I would get killed by a psycho or sold into slavery by a man I met on the Internet. My argument was always, "Yeah, because psychos and slave traders NEVER hang out in bars! ". was a good place to meet men. I work in Labor and Delivery; I certainly wasn't going to meet any single, unattached men that I would date there. I worked in a bar during nursing school, not necessarily the best pool of men to choose from. My friends were not introducing me to anyone, so why not You could screen the guys...Pick their (reported) ht, wt, body type, hair style, eye color, salary range, religion, educational level, if they wanted kids..........and many other descriptors. You couldn't do that in a bar!

Dating while at times somewhat depressing had its benefits. It made me more fastidious in my personal care: I went to the gym, had regular appointments for hair cuts/colors, facials, manicures and bikini waxes. I wore something besides sweats and scrubs. I ate at some really good restaurants. I actually traveled outside of Napa. Heck, it got me out of the house and away from the TV. But the biggest benefit, aside from meeting my husband, was the hilarious stories it provided. After each date, I would get at least 5 phone calls from friends/coworkers who wanted to hear how the date went. I knew that they secretly were hoping it was a strange guy...they wanted to hear the funny story!

I went on a LOT of first dates. In fact, I can count on one hand how many guys I actually went on 2nd (or more) date with, one of which is now my husband. My mentor had given me a set of rules to follow. I agreed to them, but added my own. I always had a chaperone, it was a covert chaperone, but I was never really alone. I never had a hard time finding someone to "go" on my date with me. The married/couple friends liked the date night. My single friends did it so I would reciprocate as their chaperone. Most of the time, my chaperones remained anonymous. Every once in a while, I would "fess up" and let my date know we were not alone. The guy was usually a good sport about it. They understood that a girl needed to be careful and were impressed that my friends were supportive of me.

The chaperone thing worked out well, most of the time...There was this one time where the funniest part of the story was not the date, but the chaperones.

I had started talking to this guy. He was nice, smart and in his emails and phone calls, absolutely hilarious. He looked nice in his picture, a little on the skinny side for my taste, but nice enough. After talking/ exchanging emails for a while, we arranged to meet. I picked one of my favorite places to eat, Bistro Don Giovanni. I had no problem finding a chaperone for the night. My friends, Deb and Brenda loved to eat there, so they eagerly volunteered.

Date night arrived; Deb and Brenda got to the bistro first and were seated in the main dining room. They had told the maƮtre d' what was up, so they assumed that he would seat my date and I close, but not to close. Well, that didn't happen. I met the guy in front; we went inside and were seated in the patio area. I was not able to see Deb and Brenda, so I knew they would not be able to see me. I was a little worried that they were going to make a scene, a la Lucy and Ethel, in order to check on me.

Anyway, I sit down with this dude and we start to talk. It is then that I realize that he has gross teeth. Not just snaggle toothed, but funky colored too. I started to get a little nauseated. They dialogue in my head went as follows: " Crap, he is so funny! I was really digging him before I saw those teeth. How did I miss that in his pictures? There is no way I am going to be able to get past his Appalachia hillbilly teeth. Maybe, I could get him to get his teeth fixed. No, that won't work. A man won't get major dental work done for a girl unless she is screwing him. I cannot kiss a man with those teeth. I can't screw him without kissing him. No way to get him to fix his teeth, SHIT. Hey, he has a good job with benefits (He worked for the federal government)...why hasn't he fixed his teeth? Now I am a little pissed at him!"

Now don't get me wrong, I am not a teeth-ist. I understand that there are many factors why people may not have perfect teeth. Lack of health benefits, health problems, fear of dentists/pain, I personally am a complete weenie when it comes to the dentist and require anesthesia for anything other than a routine cleaning. I do not judge any other person by their teeth. The only reason this guy's teeth were under scrutiny is because I was on a date with him. I only am judgmental about the teeth in the mouth of someone I could potentially French kiss.

The date goes on...he is so funny and I am cracking up through the whole thing. We are sitting at the table and this man, probably in his 60's, keeps looking at me. I just ignore him, but it was a little creepy. Then all of a sudden, the man comes up to our table and yells "MISHA!” Everyone on the patio is starting at us and my date looks a little pale. The conversation was as follows:

Man: You were my daughter's nurse! You delivered my granddaughter!

Me: Oh, I did? (I have no memory of this family)

Man: You were the best nurse. You were great.

Me: How old is your granddaughter now?
(I am hoping to narrow down the 100+ babies I deliver a year)

Man: 9 months

Me: What did your daughter name her?
(Still trying to figure out who this family is.)

Man: Ashley. She is a beautiful baby. Is this your husband? (Pointing to my date)

Me: No, actually we are on a first date.

Man: (now looking at my date) She is a good woman, you would be lucky to get her. We love Misha. She is a very special woman!

Me: Well, it was great seeing you again. (I still have no idea who this man is) Tell you daughter I said hello and give Ashley a cuddle from me.

Man: Oh I will, Misha. It was great seeing you. Bye.

Now, I get recognized all the time. I can't go into Target without having someone yell my name and thrust a baby in my arms. I think that some of the Target employees think I am some kind of plus size stripper, because moms, dads and grandparents are often shouting, "I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on!" My patients see me in the middle of the night, in scrubs, my hair in a ponytail or bun and no makeup. I look different outside of Labor and Delivery. My husband thinks it funny when it happens. If I am with my mom, she usually cries. I am used to it.

But this grandpa had made a bit of a scene. My date was a little shocked. I apologized and explained that this doesn't happen all the time, but it is not unusual. He seemed a little leery. The date ended. I knew we were not going to have a second one. I couldn't do it. I thanked him for dinner, he walked me to my car and that was it. I drove off to meet my chaperones at the designated "debriefing area", it just happened to be a local dive bar.

I sit down with Deb and Brenda and start to tell them about the date. I am going on and on about how heartbroken I am about his teeth. "He was so smart and funny, but there is no way I could kiss him.... blah, blah, blah.". They are not really paying attention. They both have these stupid grins on their faces. They wait for me to finish complaining and they say "Well, did anything else happen?". I tell them "No, he was a nice guy. Not weird at all." They keep pressing, "Are you sure nothing else happened?". I say "Oh yeah, I forgot. One of patient's Dad came up to me, a little drunk and loud and made a scene about me delivering his grand-baby." At this point, both of them start cracking up. They are turning red; tears are going down their cheeks...hysterical. When they settle down a bit, I ask them, "What is so funny?”

That is when Deb says to me, "That was my Spin Class Instructor! He is gay, doesn't have any kids and has never met you. We bought him a couple of lemon drops and got him to go check on you."

Sometimes, your friends are goofier than the date!