I'm Back

OK, bitches. Enough of my softer side.

Gather roun', chirren & I will tell you a tale about Shirley, a nurse I used to work with waaaaay back. Being who she was, I am guessing she probably died in the 90's of various untreatable STD's or was murdered by someone she played but I can't be sure.

Shirley was pretty, although quite large. Her IQ was questionable but, politics being what they were in the 70's & 80's, she was able to graduate as an LPN from a questionably accredited nursing program, no longer in business. She had very little common sense but a lifelong store of Old Wive's Tales which she was more than willing to impart to our young, impressionable, indigent pregnant patients.

She was an admitted racist and suspicious of "crackers." I think I was the only white person she had ever liked, as she told me she thought I was more of a sistah than a honky. But she was a chameleon, so I don't truly know if she actually LIKED me or was just playin'. Whatever though, we had a lot of fun together at work. She was funny as hell to listen to, that's for sure. She was about 10 years older than me.

I am a very down to earth person, and can get along with anybody. I don't hide things, so WYSIWYG. If I am happy, you'll know it. If I am pissed, you'll know it. Anyway, she didn't have the greatest nursing judgment. As a charge nurse, I really had to cover my ass when I worked with her. If there was a corner to be cut, she'd cut it. If there was a task she could postpone, she'd postpone it.

One of our pregnant patients, who was admitted to our high risk unit for premature labor, was a manicurist by trade. I could smell nail polish down the hall one afternoon. I followed the scent into her room to discover that Shirley was getting a manicure and watching her "stories" on TV. The patient was also very obviously in labor, grimacing and rocking in her bed as she worked on filing Shirley's nails. Shirley was either oblivious to the signs and symptoms or didn't care because her manicure wasn't yet finished. I ended up having to actually TELL Shirley to get up & get a fetal monitor as I assessed the patient. Thankfully, we were able to stop her labor with medication. But I had to reprimand Shirley.

"What were you THINKING?" I asked her.
"She tole me dey wazzin' dat bad, so I let her keep on workin'" Shirley replied.

I couldn't argue with THAT now, could I??? Duhhhhh.

A few months later, a bunch of the nurses decided to diet together, weighing in to keep us honest. We'd walk the hospital grounds only when there were a shitload of us working, since our hospital campus wasn't exactly safe. And we certainly didn't want to walk the lower level corridors because they weren't any more safe than the hazards outdoors. The housekeeping dudes would shoot dice & play cards while getting high in the lower level locker rooms. It was overlooked by our chickenshit hospital security guards, who I am CONVINCED would be the first to hide under a desk if any of us were threatened.

Although I think it was unintentional, the staff was divided on weekends. There was a black weekend and a white weekend. I joined the black weekend because it was REAL and I didn't have to deal with the tightasses who worked the white weekend. We'd joke that us niggahs had to stick together. We got along great and worked well together. We were really tight.

So, on our black weekend, we'd planned a dieter's potluck breakfast. Shirley brought a grocery sack full of waffles. The smell was wonderful wafting out of our staff lounge. I walked in to see that she had the entire contents of 1 box of waffles on her plate. A stack of 12 waffles, smothered in butter & syrup.

"Yo, Shirl. What's up with all the waffles?"
"It's mah brekkfest. Only 120 calories!"
"Um, Shirl, there's 120 calories in 1 SERVING, NOT in one BOX!"
"Dayum, I wondered how come I could eat so menny uv em!"

We both just laughed like hell, but she finished that whole fuckin' plate of waffles anyway. Black weekend had ultimately said "FUCK that diet!"