As per usual im waiting in the solarium for the family to let me know that i can return to the patients room. Todays events revolve more around the waiting room then they do my assigned patient. For the second day in a row i have been in conversation with an older fellow who loves to talk and particularly tell me stories.
I come from a long line of 'yarnspinners' so its far from unusual for me to be listening to a story that is laced with 'myths'. Initially i believe the majority of this mans stories were true. However there was increasing doubt as these stories contained more and more celebrities of yore. Dropping names such as W.A. Winfield (owned Bell?) and Mrs Oland (a beer magnate).
The stories vary from his rumrunning parents and him poaching lobsters with the local prison boss to having a personal phone line installed across an entire city for him alone.
There are several possibilities as to why this is happening as far as im concerned.
1) All old nova scotia men love to lie
This is a distinct possibility, however there are great details in the stories and the answers to any questions are given in a matter of fact/logical manner.
This leads me to believe
2)He is suffering from dementia or delusions of grandeur.
The former is doubtful as i have already been in the company of confused people and usually the signs are pretty obvious. As for the latter, i have to admit i didnt even know it was a real disease for the longest time. When i did find out it was through parents who confessed to me that their son was suffering from it after I had made a joke about it.
Having spoken with this man a third time i have come to the conclusion that he is a pathological liar. All these stories are fucking insane. The casts vary from gangsters to astronauts, as do the situations whether they involve legal loopholes or simple business transactions.
I feel like a moron for not having spotted it sooner.
Why was he feeding his brothers and sisters if his parents were rumrunners?
Like he really had personal correspondance with Trudeau!!!!
Friday, November 28, 2008
A face for radio
An Ex girlfriend (or girlfriend at the time) would play a game where she would act semiretarded and allow for her legs to give out so that I would have to rush to keep her from falling flat on her face.
My patient tonight had similar traits, except she was a bit more frantic, much like a meth junkie.
She kissed me several times, the patient that is, on the forehead calling me 'Dad' when i tucked her in. She is a young mother of a 12 year old who was in a head on collision with an 18 wheeler. After she fell asleep (thankfully!) I helped grade people on "Hot or Not" with the Nurses. It seemed that noone deserved more than a 3.
And now, a small excerpt from our discussion:
Nurse 1: Shes got big breasts! (pointing at the screen)
Me: I dont care how big her breasts are with a face like that (oh how times have changed)
Nurse 2 (with a thick newfie accent): Just put a bag over her head...
SeeqPod - Playable Search
My patient tonight had similar traits, except she was a bit more frantic, much like a meth junkie.
She kissed me several times, the patient that is, on the forehead calling me 'Dad' when i tucked her in. She is a young mother of a 12 year old who was in a head on collision with an 18 wheeler. After she fell asleep (thankfully!) I helped grade people on "Hot or Not" with the Nurses. It seemed that noone deserved more than a 3.
And now, a small excerpt from our discussion:
Nurse 1: Shes got big breasts! (pointing at the screen)
Me: I dont care how big her breasts are with a face like that (oh how times have changed)
Nurse 2 (with a thick newfie accent): Just put a bag over her head...
SeeqPod - Playable Search
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Amputations galore
Id like to apologize for not posting in about a month.
Ive been busy with other things (like living, eating, masturbating).
This is not to mention that my notebook and its notes are coming to an end.
I still have my sisters but im not entirely sure (having not looked at it) whether i am capable of transcribing her notes into a story. It may be worth an attempt.
Im also tempted to start posting smut.
Im not kidding.
I just found some pages of a short story (or what looks to be a penthouse forum letter) i wrote a while back for another blog i never told anyone about. For good reasons. Regardless. Ill see what happens once this blog finishes and where my headspace is at.
Well, i saw my first amputation today.
I should specify that i didnt actually see it performed.
What i saw was the base of the leg with no foot on one leg and a foot with no toes on the other.
These two limbs had staples to heal them from getting infected. That shit never ceases to look medieval or like something out of 'The Great Big Civil War Book of Surgery".
Youd think this day in age we'd have finesse when sowing up these people.
No. Apparently a fucking staple gun will do.
Does this mean any idiot with a staple gun can be a doctor?
No. You need one of those masks as well.
Having indured such a painful surgery she was high as David Lee Roth on a saturday night in 1982 when i was first introduced to her. Initially, She seemed ok, however after her nap things went a little pear shaped.
She kept insisting that people "play through".
This of course was while she kept trying to put on pants (she had on a catheter) and 'finishing the tournament'. The lovely dear asked several times that someone could pick up her ball, which was located in her calender across from her bed. Damn what a sportsman. Lets see that Tiger Woods try something like that. Ffft. What a pussy.
I should say that in hindsight, i initially had no clue what sport the patient was talking about at the time. However, now that im older and wiser, i can safely say she was playing golf. Not water polo as some would have you believe.
Ive been busy with other things (like living, eating, masturbating).
This is not to mention that my notebook and its notes are coming to an end.
I still have my sisters but im not entirely sure (having not looked at it) whether i am capable of transcribing her notes into a story. It may be worth an attempt.
Im also tempted to start posting smut.
Im not kidding.
I just found some pages of a short story (or what looks to be a penthouse forum letter) i wrote a while back for another blog i never told anyone about. For good reasons. Regardless. Ill see what happens once this blog finishes and where my headspace is at.
Well, i saw my first amputation today.
I should specify that i didnt actually see it performed.
What i saw was the base of the leg with no foot on one leg and a foot with no toes on the other.
These two limbs had staples to heal them from getting infected. That shit never ceases to look medieval or like something out of 'The Great Big Civil War Book of Surgery".
Youd think this day in age we'd have finesse when sowing up these people.
No. Apparently a fucking staple gun will do.
Does this mean any idiot with a staple gun can be a doctor?
No. You need one of those masks as well.
Having indured such a painful surgery she was high as David Lee Roth on a saturday night in 1982 when i was first introduced to her. Initially, She seemed ok, however after her nap things went a little pear shaped.
She kept insisting that people "play through".
This of course was while she kept trying to put on pants (she had on a catheter) and 'finishing the tournament'. The lovely dear asked several times that someone could pick up her ball, which was located in her calender across from her bed. Damn what a sportsman. Lets see that Tiger Woods try something like that. Ffft. What a pussy.
I should say that in hindsight, i initially had no clue what sport the patient was talking about at the time. However, now that im older and wiser, i can safely say she was playing golf. Not water polo as some would have you believe.
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