It’s nearly New Year, it’s time for a treat, and since the sordid truth is now out, it’s time for a Mental Nurse updating of the famous Mills and Boon medical romances. This one is entitled A Blog To Remember.
Dr Crippen knew he should never have agreed to do a locum shift at the local A&E. He had already felt sure that he would be working alongside some jumped-up quacktitioner, but he never realised that he would be standing before his arch-nemesis; none other than the Queen of Quacktitioning, the Heiress of Evidence-Based Nursing, it was his old blogging foe The A&E Charge Nurse.
Dr Crippen tried to appear cool, “Come to play with the big boys in the treatment room? You should limit your role to the bedside, nursey.”
The A&E Charge Nurse smiled back at him, fixing him to the spot with a playful glance, “Oh, I know all about the bedside, Dr Crippen, but I’m not limited to beds. Some of my finest work has been done right here on this desktop.”
“You think you know what you’re doing?” laughed Dr Crippen, “Honey, you just don’t know what you don’t know. It takes years of hard study to be able to get to grips with the human anatomy. And you wouldn’t believe how hard I’ve worked on people’s anatomy.”
“Oh, you can try to learn about life through books, Doctor”, purred The A&E Charge Nurse, sauntering across to where he was standing, “But all that book-learning is no substitute for experience. I’ve got lots of experience. Lots and lots of hands-on experience. Can you imagine how much experience these hands have got?”
“Stick to your own role, nursey. Don’t try to cross over professional boundaries.”
The A&E Charge Nurse sidled right up to him, and leaned forward so her face was nearly touching his, “Am I crossing any boundaries now?”
Dr Crippen suddenly realised that he was sweating. He tried to regain his composure. “Do you know how many letters I’ve got after my name?” He paused to swallow. “I’ve an MBBCh, a BSc, I’m an MRCGP…”
The A&E Charge Nurse gently took hold of his hand, “Oh, I have plenty of letters too… BN(Hons), an MSc, a PhD, dually qualified RGN and RMN…” Suddenly she took his hand and placed it on her waist. “But let’s not forget your favourite letters of all…” Then, without warning, she slid his hand across the fabric of her tunic and onto her breast. “…the letters DD.”
Dr Crippen gasped, “But..the NICE Guidelines…the nursing protocols…”
“We’re beyond that now,” whispered The A&E Charge Nurse and kissed him passionately.
Dr Crippen kissed her back, ripping open her tunic and sending her ID badge, pen torch and clip-on bottle of alcohol handrub flying in different directions across the treatment room. She yanked his Royal College of General Practitioners tie from his neck and tossed it over her shoulder, where it came to land on the emergency trolley.
The A&E Charge Nurse reached into his trousers and found the hardness inside. “Can you feel the extent of my hands-on skills now, Dr Crippen?” she purred.
“That’s my otoscope.”
“Oops.” She smiled shyly, and moved her hand what she had really been seeking.
Unable to hold back any longer, Dr Crippen pushed her back onto the examination table, and thrust himself into her.
“Oh God, I think you just found my care pathway,” she gasped.
“Now this is what I call multi-disciplinary teamworking,” he whispered in her ear. She moaned back in approval.
And then, as he palpated her aureolae and she explored his pinna with her gustatory senses, they simultaneously reached an MDT decision, and the two of them arched their backs in cross-professional collaboration. “Oh God, you just hit my departmental targets.” she screamed.
It was over almost as quickly as it had begun. They hastily dressed and prepared to turn around a waiting room of patients within a four-hour limit.
The A&E Charge Nurse walked to the door and opened it. She made to leave, then suddenly paused in the doorway.
“Don’t forget to clean up after yourself. You wouldn’t want a manager to come down here and complain about breaches of the infection control protocol, would you?”
Dr Crippen nodded, still shaking from the exertion.
“I’ll be off to take care of my caseload now,” she smiled, “If you want to get back in touch with me again, you can always get on your blog and click your little mouse at me.”
She gave him a parting smile, “You know how to click your mouse, don’t you? You just grasp it in the palm of your hand, and manipulate it with your fingers.”
And with those words, she was gone.
This is really confusing, distrurbing and sick making.
If this is the fantasy of Dr Crippen then he is a seriously deluded and maybe even dangerous man.
Horrible. Thanks for the warning.
Oh. My. God.
I feel violated.
Damn it, how did you get your hands on my reflective diary ? Trust a psychi-nurses to focus on the importance of “extended roles”, and psycho-sexual “assessment” [ooh missus].
I’ll have to hide the computer now in case Mrs C/N reads this
x-rated post – not that I’m against men, aherm, cough…. dressing up in, splutter…..womens clothes, you understand.
No, it was just that after reading it [while trying to enjoy my cornflakes] I instictively found myself adjusting my manhood.
I’ll go and lie down now……..but not with Dr C I hasten to add, anyway I think Nurse Anne has got her eye on him ;o)
Oops, I appear to have assigned the wrong gender to Charge Nurse. Sorry about that; I assumed from your e-mail address that you were a woman.
Then again, maybe Dr Crippen is actually a woman, and the frequent references to “Mrs Crippen” could be her civil partner?
P
M
F
S
L
TY
Z- the wife’s lap-top obviously has a lot to answer for ?
Still, if you strip the post of it’s naughty [and ? authentically researched] sexual content, it actually stands up as a rather marvellous commentry on the entire doc/quack divide, it tickled me anyway.
May the creative juices [as opposed to the bodily type mentioned above] continue to flow in 2008, and a very peaceful New Year to all of you; OSB, mental E, beakie, Mr Ian, well you all know who you are ;o)
That was very disturbing, but very funny.
Well done Zed
Loved this – thank you for the smiles!
I am actually crying laughing as I read this for the thirteenth time, I kid you not..
I feel quite unwell.
mousie…
You’re becoming dangerously obsessed.
I’m concerned
Drakes like it rough Mousie and they think all ducks do too.
Ever seen them in the wild?
usually, several of them jump on the duck at once and hold her under the water in an orgy of quacking, oh and, once is never enough. How the does not drown I do not know. “It’s nature”, they all chorus in excited flapping, “She loves it”.
Some ducks like Mills and Boon but there are plenty that prefer Shakespear and the taming of the shrew.
Or should that have been Mills and Bang?
Given that Mousie actually *is* an A&E charge nurse, could this mean that she has a secret erotic fixation on Dr Crippen?
Some of the most predatory and promiscuous psychdrakes have contracted a phycho sexual virus that is the duck equivalent of myxomatosis in rabbits. It is called interpretitis.
It is a form of delusion that is a defence against projection, is highly contageous and most drakes have no idea they suffer from it. Because they are much stronger than ducks and usually hang out in a gang, it is a very effective get out clause for misperception. The more the duck pleads her case, the more they quack “denial” begin excited, flapping and ducking her over again and again and again. Once her feathers have all been plucked out, and she is unable to swim any more, they all sigh with puffed up relief and gleefully complete diagnostic forms that read something like, “we told you so”.
But don’t fret mousie, there is a cure and if the drakes are very lucky, they may meet a patient one day that will help them recover, that is, if there egos are not in the way and they get over the fact that most ducks don’t want to be draked.
It was funny Z, horrifically and disturbingly so for all it may have been implying.
Thanks, oh, and a happy new year to all
a
Oh. God. No.
It is medical blog fan fiction. The star trek fans do this stuff all the time but medical blogger fan fiction is 10 times scarier. Cute.
Busted
/
Maybe I can tempt Dr C out of hiding with this.
I passed one of the medical secretaries’ offices today and on the door she has a large sign saying “Consultant Secretary”. Not Consultant ’ Secretary, or Consultant ’ s secretary or Consultants ’ secretary or even Secretary to the Consultant(s). What next, Consultant Porters, Consultant domestic assistants?
(She wears a large pink hat with lots of gold braid too)
Take it away DR C !!!!!
Or maybe the consultant’s name is Mrs Secretary? That could explain the sign on the door.