If you are already grossed up by the title then this post is probably NOT for you because what follows is a vividly graphic picture of the same.
I spent the last one and a half day in a hospital ward for perhaps what was the second most worst case of loose motions that i have suffered in my life. The worst one being two years earlier when I had loose motions plus a hundred and three degree fever on a day before my 10th class CBSE mathematics board exam and I had to solve my mathematics R.D. Sharma sitting on a commode in my bathroom.
This one wasn’t that bad. I only had the motions, no fever this time around but in spite of it the doctor of Hi Tech hospital ( funny names these gujjus come up with ;-P ) had my dad admit me there for more than a day. During the course of my stay, I was injected 6 litres of glucose plus 1 litre of some other fluid through my veins. Wonder who can still be dehydrated after such a hydrous supplement.
After undergoing all the painful procedures involving needles and having seen that the TV in my room had nothing to offer me besides the hundredth rerun of ‘Jaane tu ya jaane na’ on Filmy channel (seriously! the CEO of this channel needs to shell in some money on its content), my eyes began to scan the hospital premises for the elite creature called the NURSE. Because if I am to believe what they show in movies and the hundreds of video on my college LAN, nursing is perhaps the second most sexiest profession. The first one being aviation industry obviously (read hot lusty air hostesses).
The nurse who entered every once in a while to see my glucose level or check my blood pressure didn’t quite live upto the legacy of the profession.
OK this is gonna be one hell of a boring night!!! , I thought to myself.
I was to be proven wrong when the hospital’s working staff’s shift changed and She entered my room. No! She didn’t wear the tight skirt or the low cut top that they wear in movies and the other kind of movies. But she was still very beautiful in her own way.
She stretched my hand and pulled out my glucose tube and started arranging the paraphernalia required for giving me another fluid through the tubes. She came closer to me to check my blood pressure. That gave me a closer look at her nameplate. Her name’s initial letters were B, H and A. I couldn’t see properly because of the fear of being caught ogling at her. For this post however we’ll refer to her as “Ms. Bha”.
Bha returned to my room again after half an hour. She injected another fluid in my veins through the tube in my wrist. I shrieked in pain.
“Is it hurting ?”, she asked.
“A bit”, I replied.
“Do you need me to remove the needle and reinsert it”, she asked
reinsert the needle!!!, I didn’t want to relive the horror again.
“No, it isn’t hurting that much”, I assured her.
“Scared of needles, are you?”, she enquired.
“A lot”, I smiled.
She smiled back. That made my day or rather my night.
She left the room and I kept fantasizing all sort of stuffs about her. She walking in slow motion to me, breathing gently near my face, running her fingers in my hair… you get the point, don’t you? 🙂
I was supposed to call the nurse everytime I went to the loo – once to remove the tube from my hands and the other time to reinsert it. I couldn’t resist my urge to keep calling her again and again, just to be able to see her walk and talk to me for those 10 seconds. Everytime she would touch me my heart would start pounding heavily and I was scared if I would be giving out wrong input to the stethescope she was holding onto my chest. Everytime I called her, I would have to undertake the ritual of siting idly in the loo for 5 minutes, make wierd noises and run the flush to avoid arising her suspicion. I did it around 7 times.
I was supposed to be discharged at 8 am. and thats when she came rushing into my room.
“I need to talk to you”, She said
Me too.I have been wanting to speak to you since midnight. Come on baby, talk dirty to me.
“How many times did you shit today ?”,was her question.
WOOAAAH!!! thats way TOO dirty. tone it down a bit please.
“I am a bit worried by the number of times you called me to your room today. I need to know How many times you shat today.”, she explained.
I didnt even remember how many times I called her that day. “6 or 7 times, I guess”, i replied.
“So how was your stool ? Stiff or watery?”
What the hell is wrong with this girl. She’s taking dirty talking to an all together different level. I mean when I shit, I shit and then I move on with my life. I dont stand there and contemplate over it.
“Somewhere in the middle i guess”, I chose not to use any adjectives.
“Just what we suspected. You cannot be dishcharged right now. We’ll need to give you a few more glucose drips”, she declared.
“What???” I clenched my fist, thinking about my pain.
“And I am going home as my shift has ended. Call for Sister Harsha if you need anything henceforth”
MORAL OF THE STORY :
1) if you ever fall for a nurse, dont get admitted in the same hospital that she works in.
2) they might be sexy creatures, but man they talk crap 😉
3) Harsha was way more cuter than Bha 😉
share your hospital experience if any 😉
do mention your name 🙂