One Was In the Cuckoo's Nest

Note: Previous published editions of this post were drafts. Corrections have been made.

Apologies for the late post, but I was released from the hospital today and have been inundated with various tasks (Reality). I am thrilled to be home and away from one nurse in particular who makes the Worst Nurse Ever List with Nurse Ratchet. Up until last night I was hoping to have one more day of hospital therapy and care so that all would be in order and in place for home therapy and medical monitoring which will begin tomorrow.

But no. The nasty nurse changed my attitude and made it VIP for me to ensure a fast getaway from the hospital (if the Dr.'s approved, of course). And so it was done.

And what, exactly, did the nurse do to earn a place at the end of the Flogging Whip? She accused me of smoking in my room, which is against the rules. I was not smoking, nor would I ever do so in a hospital room with flammable gases drifting about. Somehow the smell of smoke was embedded in the bathroom and the nurse chose to call Security (official guys in quasi-police uniforms sans guns) rather than accept the truth that she was completely off in her assessment, as well as unwilling to check my bags and other areas where my things were stored so that she would see that I did not have cigarettes to smoke anywhere, and that I was truly minding my own business when her accusation came near midnight when I was happily ensconced in bed on the verge of sleep.

Miss Anal Nurse had a testosterone-filled Security Person barge into my room to stomp around in an attempt to try to locate a cigarette. Of course nothing was found anywhere because there was nothing to find.

Dejected, Nurse Pissy-Face and Mr. Brute Security Man shuffled out of my room with lowered heads from what I can only assume was frustrated shame. I, on the other hand, was livid as well as hurt. I had been getting along with all of the staff, which had been keeping my mood positive during the post-surgery experience and the beginning of the recovery process.

Now the balloon was burst and I couldn't wait to be free of the narrow-minded, run-to-Daddy mentality of the nurse which is too reminiscent of my school years when I was in the principal's office way too often for being what was considered "disruptive" because I liked to draw pictures rather than do math. I was also so velly velly awful because I liked to write love notes to the boys, which didn't go down well with the teachers.  The seething anger from a few was so intense that they felt a need to slap me in the face - even if I had said nothing derogatory about their seemingly crazed attitudes when they threw open my desk drawer and grabbed a few little notes and waved them in the air. Yes indeed, such horrific deeds required physical punishment!

Yep. Slapped. That was when people didn't sue and most schools allowed corporal punishment for the smallest of infractions.

Needless to say, I fell into a deja vu funk when the nurse became the Ghost of Authority Past. Sure, she felt she was on to something because she was protecting the rules of the hospital. However, why bring Security into a situation where there was no danger to anyone; no harsh words spat or said on my part; no drama; no need to make a huge deal over the smell of smoke wafting from somewhere. (Vents?) Had I actually committed this heinous crime, I would have thought a nurse would simply say "You can't smoke inside the hospital, okay? Please don't do it." You know, something rational, mature and fair.

I'm thinking about filing a complaint. Is it worth it? I'm not sure. I hope I won't be back in that wing of the hospital again, and, if so, anywhere near the woman. In addition, Nurse Pissy-Face had the audacity to peak into my room an hour after leaving it to check on me and I firmly asked her to return to her station in the hallway and to stay out of my room  and away from me. On that note, she quietly fell back into the shadows of the doorway and that was the last I saw of her.

So, now I'm home and smelling smoke, but this time it's coming from my head and not the figment of someone's overactive imagination.

Signed,
The Criminal