Thursday, March 4, 2010

A Nice Pair of Scrubs

Just so you don’t get the idea that my nifty job is all fun and games… the other night, I was caring for a family when a patient got sick and let fly with his stomach contents.  It was so totally not his fault in any way, but he still got my trousers.  I am fairly sure I am going to have to throw out my shoes (suede Danskos).  I wiped them down with the super strong stretcher wipes that LifeStar uses to clean their equipment after they come in with their stretcher covered in crud and interesting substances of all natures and descriptions.  However, I can’t throw Danskos in the boiling hot lye water wash I plan to wash everything else I was wearing in.  I know that the super strong hospital strength stretcher wipes are good enough for LifeStar, but are they good enough for me?  I don’t have that germaphobe reputation for nothing.

I did get a massive pair of scrubs out of the deal.  I headed down to an inservice at 730AM looking like an OompaLoompa, and I’m fairly sure that someone wondered why I was wearing clown-sized pants at Morning Report.  They are naturally extremely comfy, but something that is that big has to be comfy.  They are an exceptional shade of navy blue, institutional and nondescript at the same time.  The scrubs will probably make great jammies, or new “wear around the house” pants for the days when I want a variation on my yoga-pant workout.  (You wear yoga pants and walk around the house, thinking exercising thoughts like, "I wonder if I'd like to go to the gym"). 

As far as *getting* the scrubs... well, I was a little leery of sounding like a total wimp by asking for scrubs.  I took the stretcher wipes to my pants, too, but after a quick walk to a different waiting room, I relized in the elevator that the pants smelled like a combination of stomach contents and stretcher wipes.  That solved my wimp worries.  And now all God's people say, "PEE-EWW!"  

Lucky for me, we all knew it had been a top-ten most-bizarre things-ever call.  I looked straight at the charge nurse and said something smooth like, “Hey there, my pants stink and I don’t want to stink all night.  Please save me from myself.”  And she waved her hands with the power and might of Anna Wintour, and just like that, new pants were procured. 

Anna Wintour DOES get you more FASHIONABLE clothes (I wouldn't mind a pair of those cute Prada flats that were so popular last year.  Call me!), but I will settle happily with clown pants. 

Let's just not mention to anyone that the chaplain did a quick strip in her office.  That sort of thing tends to weird out the fundamentalists.  

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