Don't Curse the Nurse!

Sharing support with stories & humor

Rules of Engagement


Despite having a re-torn bicep and surely some pain, I noticed he bounced when he walked. When I waved him toward the scale for the anesthesia required weight, he slid off his flip-flops before I could stop him.

“Oh, uh, oh, okay. Bare feet. Got it. Let’s get your shoes back on there.”

He gave me a wide grin before responding. “My toes breathe better this way.”

“Do you need to use the restroom before changing?’


‘Nope’ rang a bell and I searched for recall. Ah, yes. He’d been here a month ago, under someone else’s care, the voice and devil-may-care attitude, unmistakable.

Anyway…I went through my usual intro and explanation of the preparation that would occur in the pre-op area. Not quite un-expectantly, he started disrobing before I could close the curtain and minimize the risk of a side show for anyone walking by.

I had all the healthy nurse/patient boundaries up until I handed him a pen for signing his consent forms.

“Oh, thanks, I hold pens this way.” He took it with his thumb, index, and third finger. “I’m a writer. I like to write this way.”

As soon as he said “I’m a writer” I was taken back eight years.


A writing class.

I looked at him wide-eyed.

It was a class that opened my mind to the power of putting my thoughts and ideas on paper.

“Woodstream Writers”

He turned his head sharply, gasped, and said “Yes! I thought you looked familiar!”

Way back during that time, I had been tempted to ask him out. He had a charming upbeat personality.

Now he’s my patient.

Oh well.



Illustrated by Hannah

A creative space for sketches and canvass prints. Lover of fine liner doodles.


Pen to paper.

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