Nursing is Not a Sexy Profession
Some of my most disturbing and downright vulgar nursing experiences
Disclaimer: This story is gross. Stop reading now if you don’t want to be disgusted.
I’m not quite sure where the sexualization of the nursing profession found its roots, but it definitely wasn’t in a hospital ward. There’s no place for sexy nurse outfits and red lacy lingerie in aged-care facilities and despite a few men in my life requesting I give them a sensual ‘nursey’ sponge bath, there’s nothing remotely erotic about being a nurse.
As a nurse you get used to blood and all sorts of body fluids. It’s commonplace. Every nurse on the planet however, carries with them the haunting memories of a few horror stories that trump the norm. These stories are shared in explicit detail in tea rooms across the globe, making exceptional lunchtime conversation for nurses, who have stomachs made of steel and a sense of humor that keeps them coming back to work day-in-day-out.
So, in true nurse spirit, I’ve decided to share three of my most disturbing and downright vulgar nursing experiences with you all. Let’s dive straight in.
I arrived on duty for my afternoon shift. The nurse that was supposed to hand over to me was transporting a patient to the x-ray department so I didn’t get any information from her. After getting my patient allocation I started to do my initial ward round, meeting my patients, checking charts, and putting together my shift planner.
Things seemed pretty calm and I was confident it’d be an uneventful evening. I made my way around all my patients, right down the end of the corridor to the last room. I heard some groaning coming from inside. I quickly washed my hands and gloved up before pushing the door open.
I was startled. A woman in her late 60s was lying stark naked in the bed. Her greyish mop of hair was a mess and her bent legs were wide open like she was ready for a cervical exam. She appeared confused, so I cautiously approached, introducing myself and asking her if she’d like me to help her get dressed.
Her head turned towards me and she grunted. Her eyes stared right through me like daggers. I saw her hospital gown laying on the floor beside her. I bent down to pick it up and on standing upright saw that she had her hand between her legs. She was mid-masturbation. I’d certainly interrupted.
I placed her nightgown next to her and said I’d give her some space and come back a little later to check on her. Her eyes followed me as I walked back towards the door, but just as I was about to leave, she put her fingers deep into her vagina and then started flicking what I can only refer to as “vagina juice” at me. She repetitively flicked her fingers at me, delving in for more ‘juice’ before flicking again. I rushed out the door in horrified shock.
Did anything actually land on me? I looked over my uniform and saw what looked like a tiny pasty yellow piece of snot on the front of my shirt. I gagged a little, rushed for the water taps, and scrubbed both my shirt and my skin for a solid five minutes.
For the rest of the evening, despite dressing her several times, every time I went to assist this lady, her clothes were again on the floor and she repeated the same gesture. My nursing colleagues that night showed their moral support by laughing with me and making groaning noises at me when I walked into the drug room. Thanks, team!
Another day, another world of opportunity.
This particular day I was allocated two bilateral amputees to look after. It was a morning shift so I needed to assist them both to have showers. As I hoisted one of the men into the shower, I couldn’t help but notice his exceptionally long schlong. As a nurse, I’d seen a lot of penis, but this one still remains at the top of the ‘long penis’ chart, though not the ‘girth’ chart.
After assisting this gentleman to shower, I called a wardsman to help me hoist him back into bed so we could get him dressed. As the hoist started to go up, the shower chair appeared to be stuck to the man’s bottom, as the chair rose up with the man. The man grimaced a little, so we put him back down.
Unbeknownst to us all was the fact that his ding-a-ling had slid through a crack in the shower chair and it was stuck. When we discovered the conundrum, there was a bit of collective awkward discussion regarding how we might dislodge his bits. The wardsman made a gawky joke about calling in the fire brigade, causing the man’s cheeks to flush red.
The man himself couldn’t reach his own chopper because of the way the shower chair was positioned, so it seemed as though it was up to the inexperienced newly graduated nurse (that was me) to deal with the situation. The only solution I could think of on the spot was to lather up his joystick with some body soap.
I got consent from the man to give my idea a crack. I squirted the soap all over my hand and then proceeded to put it on his ramrod, touching it as few times as possible, but ensuring it was suitably foamy. Unfortunately, my sweet, soft touch was more than the guy could handle, and rather than becoming a slippery little sucker as planned, the mighty dipstick hardened.
I recoiled and the man undoubtedly felt what I could see. I pulled myself together and calmly said, “How about I give that a few minutes and we try something else?” The man cautiously nodded, I retreated out the door and went to find a nurse who knew more about releasing trapped dongs. Her wise words were to get a tube of lubricant and squirt it all over the shower chair and his member.
After a good ten minutes, I went back to the man and told him the new plan. Things had settled downstairs, so we were good to go. I used pretty much the whole bottle of lube and with some gentle pulling and pushing his eggplant was freed. An unconscious loud cheer erupted from me. Whoops. The man expressed reserved yet sincere gratitude and we all went about our daily business. Phew!
Now finally, a true lunch date with a bunch of nurses wouldn’t be complete without a brief story involving sh*t.
One night shift I was given the task of looking after a patient post-operatively. I can’t recall what surgery he’d had but it was some significant gastric procedure. I got handover from the surgical recovery nurse, took the man’s vitals, and got him settled into the ward.
I left the room for no less than five minutes before returning to a flood of liquid poop. It was all over the bed, sheets, pillow, walls, bed rails and it had seeped from the bed, with puddles collecting on the floor. I did what any good nurse would do, retrieved some gumboots, and called for backup.
After cleaning the man and the room, and getting a surgical consult I was informed that I needed to aspirate sh*t from the man’s nasogastric tube until there was nothing left to aspirate.
So, there I sat for six very long, very putrid hours, sucking poo out of the guy’s nose. At hours one, three, and four further sh*t floods erupted from every orifice and I was covered basically head to toe in brown watery delights.
By the end of my shift, I’d showered and changed scrubs four times, yet could still smell the smell, so strong I could almost taste it. I threw my uniform and shoes in the bin before heading home and scrubbing my body within an inch of its life.
Now, isn’t all that quite sexy?
Have I inspired future nursing generations?
Nurses put up with a lot, they give a lot and they care a lot.
They should be celebrated, put up on a pedestal, and given a trophy, lots of free wine, and a pay rise.
Any fellow nurses have some gory stories to share? Let’s grab some lunch and chat!
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