NurseTales or How To Ruin A Perfectly Good Dinner Table Conversation

Both of my parents were nurses. Somehow, these types of discussions always seemed to happen when we were having spaghetti.

I spent an evening with my Father's new lady friend (both in their 80s) and her son, age about 50, close to mine. Anyway, he was telling me some type of story during supper, trying to gross me out. At some point, I just looked at him, told him I'd been a nurse for 27 years and there was nothing he could say that would gross me out.Not only that, I could top his tales without even blinking an eye and even those stories would be tame compared to other stories.

"Large offering to the poop gods."Oh, that's a gem! xD LOLI always have to remember to keep a lid on it when I sit down with non-nursing family/friends, but when I'm around other nurses...oh, how the gross-out stories flow! I pity those who sit around us.There was a rare time, though, when a few of us were chatting during a relatively quiet night shift, regaling each other of the things that gross us out most, and I actually lost my appetite. At the top of our collective list was excessive mucous and C.diff diarrhea (how cliche, but it's true!) Although I started the conversation with the creeping sensation of hunger, I had lost all will to eat by the end of it...

<SNORT!!>I have to admit, there've been more than a couple of times I've almost blown my groceries while dealing with a particularly heinous mess at work......like the time I went into a room and found my confused elderly patient "washing" her dentures in a full bedpan. I tell you, I ran out of there clutching my throat and feeling like my stomach was stuck in there trying to claw its way out. OTOH, I can suction a trach full of pseudomonas and never turn a hair, so it's whatever the individual nurse finds utterly revolting that makes the world (or tummy) go 'round.

3 of my classmates and I went to a restaurant for dinner one night--and ruined dinner for a very nice older couple! I've always felt bad about that.

I am amazed at how people get squigged out over dinner when I'm there, because I don't mention the stuff that makes ME retch. The LTAC I worked at, had a bit of insanity before I left there and got rid of all the bath basins because they wanted us to use lavender scented, silver impregnated dry wipey things instead. OK. And of course not one of the management people knew what to say when I asked, so what do we do when we admit a werewolf?? Well the thing about bath basins is, they make wonderful puke buckets. Somehow handing a patient a graduated cylinder or the tiny little emesis basin just won't cut it. The cylinder isn't wide enough, the actual emesis basin is just tiny. So one night this dude managed to hemhorrage up a lung. It took a little while, but the mess was unbelievable. There was a lot of going in and out of the room for various things, and one time when I went to enter the room, I noticed some bright person had handed the patient a bedpan to puke in. Which, if it were clean, would have not been too bad. Except that the patient, in his delerious near-death state, LICKED the blood off the bedpan's edge. This nurse could not go in the room for another five minutes or so. I had to look at my shoes for a bit, then run away and let someone else remove the bedpan.What? I would never tell THAT story over spaghetti.

I grew up with a father who was an anesthesiologist and a mother who had been an OR nurse (they met at work). Dad would come home from work, read the paper, etc., while Mom was finishing fixing dinner, and all of us sitting down to dinner together was the first chance they had to really talk about the day. So, Mom would say, "So, how were things in the OR today, dear?" And Dad would proceed to tell her about it, in graphic detail ("... and then it ruptured, and the pus went everywhere ..." "So we're all knee-deep in blood at this point ...") I was grown up and out on my own in the world before I found out that many people feel there are some things you don't discuss at the dinner table ... I still have to make an effort to remember not to inadvertently gross "regular" people out, at the dinner table or in other situations.

My sister has the squeamiest tummy - not sure how she ever changed her kids' diapers. My niece, when she was a kid (around 10 or 12 I suppose) used to love to hear antyhing I could tell her. She's usually yell "Gross!" but then in a few minutes wanted details of how that actually happened (that was the story of the pt with necrotic fingers who refused to have them amputated, and two of them broke off during a turn one night). Yet this same kid will pass out if she goes for bloodwork. Guess it is a good thing she is going to be a teacher. I get a chuckle out of my pts now - I work in a outpatient clinic - and they will come in and say they have had "bowel trouble" for a week or so and they don't want to "gross you out" by giving you the details. At which point I remind them that if talking about loose stools is the worst part of my day I am laughing.

I never tell stories to intentionally gross anyone out. Sometimes I do forget what my wife considers gross though and just talk without thinking. My wife will just look at me and go "EATING HERE!!" as a gentle reminder. I then change topics (or sometimes just don't talk at all anymore because I know what's good for me).

We would do this all the time at school. My cadaver lab partners and I would always go to the quad to get lunch after spending 4 hours with "texas" our cadaver. The smell alone could have cleared the building but we were never satisfied with that. We would talk about the things we did that day or how we removed certain organs. Ruined many a lunches that semester ha.

I try to not tell gross stories around my family/non-nursing friends but sometimes I can't help it...as for my nursing friends, they get the complete unedited version, with blood, vomit, and poop, oh my! Nothing seems to phase me. Last night I scarfed down my food and then came back and saw that my Fleets enema that I ordered at 0030 was finally verified at 0230...so I gave that and the patient had a NICE BM

ThatGuy, your story reminds me of my own college years, when we nursing students more or less took over the small downstairs cafeteria. We'd go get burgers and talk about things we'd seen and done in clinicals that week.....often to the dismay of other diners, who soon learned to have lunch elsewhere.One day when I'd just launched into a discussion about my patient with necrotizing fasciitis---the only case of it I've ever seen---a woman at a nearby table cleared her throat to get our attention. "Excuse me....I'm eating here, you know."I held up my burger gleefully and said "Well, whaddaya know, so am I!" and went right on with my story, to the delight of my fellow students. Now, many years later and having grown up just a bit more since then, I realize how rude that was; still, the mischievous part of me can't help terrorizing innocent, non-medical family members now and again with tales from the dark side.