Don't Curse the Nurse!

Sharing support with stories & humor

March Moment

hit on head

“I don’t like needles.”

Twenty-one. Probably his first. Unless he’s donated blood.

“Thanks for letting me know. Most don’t. We use lidocaine. Just like at the dentist. It ‘ll make it less painful.”

“If it hurts at all, I’m going to punch someone.”

I waited to hear a laugh. No laugh.

Twenty-one. 6’4”. Long reach. Sculpted biceps.


“I’ll be right back.”

brrinng brrinng

“Hello. Anesthesia. I have a patient that I need help with starting his IV.”


This is the only time I have bailed on a patient.


This Shouldn’t Hurt


“Living alone has its moments of self-pity and paranoia.”


It was the third sentence in the sixth paragraph of chapter two in The Sense of An Ending by Julian Barnes. And the truth of it made me gasp.

I’ve done the living alone part for several years. I get it.

I also know that you can be in a room with dozens of people and still feel alone. Its vogue now – they call us “Introverts”. I like “Empaths” ( Thank you )

I almost stopped reading.

I know that good writing is supposed to do this, make you feel more human, but that ‘humanness’ comes with pain.

It is also quoted in several writing journals that you not only need to write much, you need to read much.

And reading, as noted above, brings pain.

So, to write well means to be willing to be in pain.





Pen to paper.

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