There must be something about my face that says, "Tell me everything. Even if I don't ask for it."
Case in point...
We received a transfer from Podunk Community Hospital and Tractor Supply Store. The nurse who called to give me report was someone who had apparently been in the nursing game a while, but her exposure to anything outside of vanilla was next to none.
"He has a partner," She whispered scandalously over the phone. "A boyfriend!! And the boyfriend will be coming with the patient!"
I rolled my eyes. Big stinking deal. I almost told her to call me back when she actually had something impressive to tell me, like the guy grew tentacles from his nose or gave birth to a grilled cheese sandwich. Small town corn-holing rednecks. I hate them with the burning passion of a thousand Twilight fans.
At any rate, a couple hours later, the patient arrives, and after five minutes with him, I have decided he's an obnoxious asshole. It also helps that he told me that he's an asshole.
No, I just kept my yap shut and finished drawing his labs. With my recent relationship failure, I'm the last person who should be giving relationship advice. The best I can do is pat his arm and give him an ice cold Pepsi.
Which was exactly what the staff doctor did for me when she came in the following morning and found out he was my patient. Apparently, Pepsi is the great healer of wounds.
I hate Pepsi. Pass the Prozac.