..... hoping the condom practice will not be in vain .....

By Big M

Geoffrey had settled into the Outpatient Clinics. The patients were relatively well, usually didn’t stink, and were capable of taking themselves to the toilet and wiping their own bottoms. It also meant that Geoffrey had every weekend off, so he’d been able to socialise. He’d been to a few parties, and had even been on a couple of dates with one of the clinic nurses, Morticia. She wasn’t a cracker like Melena Stuhl, but she was the only girl who’d ever said, ‘Yes’ to an invitation straight away, so that put her way ahead of everyone else.

Morticia fascinated Geoffrey. She wasn’t beautiful, she wasn’t even pretty, but she had strength of character and directness he’d never seen in a woman, or man. When asked by a patient if the clinic was where she intended to spend her career she answered. “No, I only did nursing so that I could get into my training as an embalmer.” Morticia had done a number of on-line courses in embalming, and funeral directing, but struggled to get a foothold. She told Geoffrey that embalming was the last bastion of male domination, and it was up to her to break down the barriers. Geoffrey didn’t know what a ‘bastion’ was, and was far too lazy to look it up on the internet, so logged it away in his mind with ‘male words’ like, ‘trouser’, ‘sweat’ and ‘mechanics’.

Morticia also had excellent taste. She had managed to wean Geoffrey off cask wine, and on to sophisticated drinks like ‘Scotch n Coke’, ‘Vodka n Lemonade’, and, for real aficionados, ‘Tia Maria n Milk’.

Geoffrey had suffered from a few minor incidents. For example, there was the usual tripping over the ‘Wet Floor’ sign, nearly every day. He’d broken the news to a man, that his fifteen-year-old daughter was pregnant, with the exclamation. “Congratulations, Grandad.” He was banned from the Sexually Transmitted Diseases Clinic as he had tried to treat a particular type of inflammation, in a particularly private area, with cortisone ointment, when, the treatment of choice was, of course, a big injection of penicillin.

Dr James had dropped by, a couple of times; just to see how Geoffrey was going. The visits had nothing to do with the fact that the Clinics were between the Executive Office, and Obstetrics. Dr James had even let on that he was in line for a special Quality Award, for his P.E.N.I.S. The only contender was the Area Resource Scheme for Emergencies. Even the acronym didn’t seem to roll off the tongue. He was already icing the Porphyry Pearl!

Sister Kent sat out the front of the hospital smoking with the patients from the Antenatal Ward. She always tried to explain that smoking was bad for the unborn child, It had certainly been bad for her child but, thank Christ, she thought, I don’t have to see the poor little bugger. Uva had ‘fallen in love’ with a young doctor during her training, but he’d wanted her to get rid of it because of ‘their careers.’ She couldn’t, and didn’t, but chose to have the child given up for adoption, so she could resume her training. That was another life.

Uva picked the stray bits of tobacco off her tongue while she sat and thought about the hospital. She had, of course, become aware of the Quality Awards, one for James’ penis, the other for the scheme of her arch nemesis, Sister Ophelia of the Immaculate Conception, at the Mother of Misery Hospital. Her scheme was a grander version of the PENIS. It was an area-wide-plan that involved patients being admitted via an Emergency Department then, if there were no beds, usually due to closures, they were transferred to another hospital, sometimes two hundred kilometres away. Like the PENIS it costs a hell of a lot more to run, but the costs were concealed from the balance sheet. She’d trained with Ophelia Brown Nose, and she hated her more than chokos!

Uva looked up to see Tess waddling towards her with a scowl on her face. Dr James was striding towards both of them, from the opposite direction. They met Uva at the same time. Tess’s face quickly assembled itself into an amiable smile, no longer contorted with effort of contracting the pelvic floor. “Gidday, James, I reckon congratulations are in order.” Exclaimed Uva.

“Ah…err…thankyou…err…Uva, I mean, Sister Kent.” Stammered James, wrinkling his nose at the smell of tobacco smoke. He’d always had a weak chest as a lad. His mum always said it complemented the rest of him. “I wanted to catch up with you, and…err…Tess…ah…Mrs Tickle. I’ve heard reports about male nurses from this very hospital going out drinking and carousing. Being a male nurse myself I thought I should issue an edict, I mean memo, that all male nurses are to act in a dignified manner when out and about.”

“Issue a memo?” Uva continued to pick tobacco from her tongue. “The buggers will just give you the finger, if you do that! Why don’t you leave it to me ‘n’ Tess? We’ll put the word out and see what happens?” James was quietly pleased to find an unlikely solution to this dilemma, so nodded and strode off, concentrating on his PENIS. As soon as he’d gone, Tess and Uva giggled. There was a Male Nurses Imbibers Club, MaNIC, which was, basically, an all male drinking group. Tess and Uva had managed to become associate members because they liked a drink, and, quote, “didn’t talk bullshit.” In short, they were the chief carousers!

Geoffrey was excited. Tonight might be the night. Mum had caught the Country Link train to Albury for the weekend, leaving him ‘in charge’, which meant he had to feed her cat, ‘Mr Tiddles’. He was going to cook for Morticia. It was going to be a feast. Chips n dip for starters, two McCann’s frozen roast dinners, followed by frozen apple pie and ice cream. He had a selection of premixed drinks to accompany the meal, Vodka Cruzers, Jim Bean n Coke, and a whole bottle of Tia Maria and Long Life Milk.  He had even gone to the extreme of having two showers today, and had sprinkled himself and his clothes with Hyena. He hoped that the previous fortnight of applying condoms to zucchinis was not going to be in vain.

Borrowed from Zazzle.com.au - THE place for humorous gifts for obstetric nurses

By Big M

Geoffrey found his first week in obstetrics to be quite delightful. Obviously management had seen his potential and arranged for the Midwifery Educator, Candida Albercans, to spend an entire week with him. It had only taken him two days to master the application of a cloth nappy. He’d only stuck the pin through his left index finger four times, and had once mistaken the gender of one little girl, as he’d assumed that the cord was a giant penis. He soon learnt that the big plastic clip was a dead give away!

Geoffrey spent the morning of his third day bathing babies, and had managed to do this without dropping a single one. At morning tea time, Candida told him to return the three infants to their mothers, who were still bed bound for various reasons, then go to tea. Geoffrey did so quickly, and then went off to the cafeteria. He poured some thick, acrid coffee, from the machine, and looked around for a seat. A group of nurses from his old ward occupied one table, amongst them, the most alluring Melena Stuhl. His heart skipped a beat. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. His reverie was interrupted by the scraping of metal chairs on vinyl flooring, almost in unison. The group of nurses all arose in one accord and left the room, all muttering something about a busy ward, as they pushed passed him.

Geoffrey now had a table all to himself. Just as he sat down, Sister Kent sat down next to him, wrinkling her nose at the stench, which must have been considerable, given that years of smoking had rendered her almost anosmic. “How’s obstets, Geoffrey? Haven’t dropped a kiddy yet, have we?”  He cut quite a figure; she thought, uncombed hair, unshaven, wearing ‘scrubs’ that had clearly been hung up on the bedroom floor.

“Oh, no, as if?” Geoffrey laughed, as he massaged his swollen left index finger. “I’ve already bathed three babies this morning.” He replied, with a hint of pride in his voice.

“So you’ve bathed three kiddies in three and a half hours?” Uva raised her left eyebrow. “You’re as indolent as you are ignorant.”

Geoffrey took this as a great compliment. His father, who he only saw at Christmas and Easter, had once said that Geoffrey’s ignorance knew no bounds and the sooner he got a job with the council, the better the whole family would be. Well, Geoffrey had shown him. Been to uni and everything, he thought to himself.

Sister Kent stood up, and patted her pockets for a box of matches to light the Camel that was sitting in the corner of her mouth, the tell tale rattle from her left thigh signalling the whereabouts of the errant matches. It was now against the law to smoke in hospital, but this didn’t stop her from being ready to smoke. “Well son, I can see a long and tortuous career ahead of you.” She mumbled as she wandered through to the garden to light up.

Geoffrey quickly finished his coffee, eager to get back to bath some more babies. At the nurses station the Nursing Unit Manager and Candida greeted him. “Geoffrey, when we bathed the babies this morning, I did make a point of telling you to keep the armbands on, so that you could take the baby back to its mother. Is this correct?”

“Well, yes, I know you said that, but the armbands weren’t aesthetically pleasing, so I took them off.” Geoffrey thought himself very clever, using words like ‘aesthetically’.

“Aesthetics aside, the armband allows the midwife to correctly identify the baby, and prevent mix-ups. Parents do seem to have a desire to take home the infant they conceived!”  Roared Mrs Dalrymple, the broken capillaries on her nose glowed red. “Fortunately it was easy to place the Chinese baby with the Chinese mother, Indian baby with Indian mother, and so on. In future, KEEP THE BLOODY ARMBANDS ON THE BABIES!” Mrs Dalrymple turned on her heel, marched into her office, and slammed the door.

Candida sat Geoffrey down in one of the offices with a couple of obstetric text books with instructions to learn all he could about labour and delivery whilst she went to do some ‘administrative’ tasks. Geoffrey was keen to learn all he could about vaginas, as he’d never managed to see one in a social context. Unfortunately the texts only had pictures of vaginas during delivery, so the mental image that he was constructing wasn’t entirely accurate, or appealing.

Candida returned just after lunch, looking a little flushed, and smelling of Brut 33. “Ah…oh…Geoffrey.” She stammered. “It might be a good time to get you back into the clinical. I’ll get Simon to spend some time with you this afternoon.”

Simon was a flamboyant, outgoing male nurse who had been moved from the surgical ward because of certain ‘misunderstandings’ with some of the male patients. “Ah, Geoffrey, I’m really pleased to meet you. Where have you worked? You must know Andrew, from South Wing, he’s a honey. Funny place here, all tits and fannies. I suppose you’re like me, getting ready for Madi Gras? It’s the place to go to get laid!”

“Get laid.” Thought Geoffrey, his second New Years resolution may also come to fruition. “Can you get laid at this Madi Gras?”

“Darling, everyone gets laid at Madi Gras” Simon laughed. “So, you coming?” Geoffrey nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have to get you a costume, and a back, crack, ‘n’ sac wax. Don’t worry, we’ve got a month to sort you out, darling.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a buzzer. “Back to the tits and fannies, darling.”

Meanwhile, Dr James was straightening his polyester tie, and checking that he didn’t have lipstick on his face or collar. These daytime trysts were invigorating. His thoughts quickly turned to his pet project, Geoffrey, who reminded him of a much younger, Dr James. Clearly Geoffrey was management material and should be fast tracked into a health care management job. No sense leaving him languishing in the trenches.

James hurried back to the Executive Suite, where he was greeted with the unmistakable stench of stale urine. He’d gone into admin to get away from this sort of thing. He tracked down the offending chair and pushed into the corridor. Acacia was no-where to be seen. Probably nursing a broken nail. He had a busy afternoon ahead of him. He had to decide on which beds to close to save money. This always had to be balanced against the inevitable ‘bed-block’ in the Emergency Department. “Ha.” He thought. “I could create an Emergency Department overflow ward in one of the empty wards, which had been closed to save money.” He could staff it with casual staff from an agency, which only cost about thirty percent more than permanent staff. All that was needed was a clever sounding acronym.

Planned Emergency Nursing …P.E.N.

Planned Emergency Nursing Scheme…P.E.N.S.

Planned Emergency Nursing Inpatient Scheme…P.E.N.I.S. Perfect!

Geoffrey was learning to play the Panjo ....

By Big M

Geoffrey’s name had come up at yet another hospital meeting.

“Woodenuv got into his general training in the old days.” Grumbled Uva Kent, as she lit another camel from the, still glowing, butt of the last one. She still liked to be called ‘Sister’ even though she wasn’t a nun, and never understood the nervous giggles from new applicants as she introduced herself, with her Kiwi accent. “Now that nursing training, or education, is at college (she didn’t like to call them, ‘universities’) anyone can get in. This poor bastard can barely write, and his mathematics is at a third grade level.”

“That’s enough thank you, er, Uva, I mean er Sister.” Retorted Dr James, as he straightened his new polyester tie, he’d bought from K-mart last night. He wasn’t a medical doctor, but had a doctorate in nursing. The basis of his thesis had been the attitudes of male nurses towards bedpans, and pan-room hygiene. “We can’t do much with him, if we sack him we’ll get done for sexism, you know what those male nurses are like.” Forgetting that he, himself was a male nurse.

“We’ll have a little look in the ‘Geoffrey File’, then, Luvvy”. Said Uva, with the cigarette mashed in the corner of her mouth, a long column of ash threatening to fall into the file. “Last week, tried to sterilise thirty two digital thermometers by soaking in Milton solution. This Monday, went to lunch leaving Mrs Guttman sitting on a pan to be discovered by the afternoon staff. Had to go to the Operating Theatre to have her rolls of fat extracted from the pan under a general. Wednesday tried to sterilise thirty digital thermometers by boiling them for ten minutes. Need I go on?” The ash floated onto the open page.

“Well, the lad hasn’t been given much of a go.” Dr James started.

“Much of a bloody go!” Uva exclaimed, as she aspirated the cigarette butt into her pharynx, which caused a coughing fit, which lasted for eight full minutes. It finally resolved with a gulp of hospital brandy, which was always on hand. “Much of a mother fudging go! The little bastard woulduv been out on his arse in the first eight weeks in the good old days.”

“These aren’t the ‘good old days’ as you so quaintly describe them.” James looked around the room for a clue that someone thought his little joke may have been funny. A couple of people laughed, but only because Uva was poking her tongue at James as he looked the other way.

“I know what we can do with Geoffrey.” Added Mrs Tickle. She never introduced herself by her Christian name, ‘Tess’, for obvious reasons. “We’ll transfer him to obstetrics. The patients aren’t really sick, and there are some male nurses over there who may straighten him out!” she grinned at her own cleverness.

“Silly bastard might drop a kid on its head, then we’d be sued.” Uva blew smoke out the side of her mouth to avoid blowing it in the direction of her colleges. Yes, she’d already recovered and lit another durry.

“Happens all the time.” Laughed Mrs Tickle. “Nature’s way of stopping kids from being smarter than their parents.” She roared with laughter, spilling hot tea onto the table, and into Dr James’ lap. Quick as a flash, Uva tossed some iced water from a glass jug, into his lap. It certainly cooled the burning sensation in his privates, but now he looked like he’d been incontinent.

It was Uva’s turn to laugh. “Christ, James, can’t take you anywhere!” She refused to call him ‘Dr’ James, as she, well, thought it was bullshit.

James was still dancing from foot to foot, attempting to dry his crutchal region with a paper napkin. “Let the minutes reflect that we recommend Nurse Geoffrey Riley be transferred to Obstetrics to further his clinical experience.” His gaze was direct at his secretary, Acacia, who was examining her torn acrylic nail. “Have you got that?”

“Why, yes Doctor, I will need some time off to see the beautician.”

James shook his head. Acacia was the sister of a girl he had once dated, ‘Fern’, but,  like the romance with Fern, Acacia’s employment wasn’t the issue today. “OK, meeting closed at sixteen twenty hours.” He rushed from the meeting room to change his clothes.

Tess and Uva sat around laughing. In fact, they laughed so much that Tess wet her pants, which wasn’t unusual. “Well, Uva, looks like you better let the lad know,”

Geoffrey was completely gob smacked that Assistant Director of Nursing; Sister Kent had come down from the Ivory Tower, as the Nursing Office was known, to tell him about the transfer. He’d made two New Years Resolutions, this year. One was to work much less; the other was to lose his virginity. It seemed to him that the former was about to happen. Clearly Sister Kent held him in high regard. She’d told him that, if bedside nursing didn’t work out, that he could always get a job lecturing at the uni, and had grumbled something about,”…them that can’t, teach.” Then giggled as she walked away.