Triage Cassanova

I don't have to do triage anymore.

Unless I sign up for it, which, heh, why would I do that?

I do miss the triage cassanovas though.

Yes, I am technically ringless and available. Though I'd never date a patient, my own bad choices in men are a joke in itself at work (a religious cultmember, a cop who took me to a party wherein he and his cop friends shot themselves in the scrotums with bbs to prove their manhood, a white collar, a Mr Perfect, doctor-shopping Rx drug addict). Yeah, and so I get it, and I've pretty much sworn off dating.

Whenever we have a guy come in for an STD check, suicidal or homicidal ideations, ETOH intoxication or drug overdose I'll hear "but is he single? Travis needs a boyfriend" haha. So funny youse guise!

Dudes dig nurses. I hear there's a whole genre of porn dedicated to this very subject. Looking around myself on a shift I never see short white dresses with thigh high white stockings and red stillettos so I'm not sure how that porn is any different from tooth fairy fantasies. I look around and see nurses with hair falling down from pony tails, maybe scarfing some stolen peanut buttered graham crackers over a keyboard in lieu of a proper lunch break. Myself included.

I once had a patients wife refuse a foley from me. The poor guy had fallen out of a tree and had several vertebrae busted. I'm sure my cold hand shoving a big tube in his junk was NOT going to be future fantasy material for him (and a dude with a broken back is low on my prey list) but his wife tearfully demanded a man put in the catheter. She also accused me in front of the charge nurse, of stealing his wedding ring, which I reminded her she had put in her purse!

But back to the triage romeos! I'm talking about the younger men who maybe harbor some nurse fantasies. Also seem to think my ok looks fit their fantasy and my mandatory screening questions scream interested.

I've heard way more than once "and I really need to get this checked 'cause I'm a SINGLE DAD".

Too bad so sad I have no interest in raising someone elses kids.

I'll never forget one in particular. A musclebound meathead in an arm-bearing tank top.

He signed in, and wrote down his complaint in handwritten caps lock:

STAPHALACOCCALACACCULUS.

He had an abscess (boil or bunch, if you've worked in the remote areas I have) on his back.

He proceeded to tell me how at his GYM several other guys who workout in his GYM had gotten these staph imfections from the GYM EQUIPMENT.

Sigh.

Dreading the single dad mention, I forged on and asked my mandatory questions like, do you feel safe at home? Do you have any suicidal thoughts? Any history of infectious diseases?

"No! I'm careful! I always use protection. I'm not even seeing anybody right now."

He paused for a second went on "I've been watching you, you know, from the waiting room."

Heh. Oh noes. Here it comes.

"Do you work out?"

I laugh and go on with my questions.

"Do you take any medications? No, ok, do you have any allergies?"

He laughs "I've decided, I'm allergic to men! *giggle*"

I do a double take and realize. Oh. Ooooooooh.