Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Nurse Heather: Without a Leg to Stand On

By Nurse Heather

There are several great things about working in a busy, big-city hospital. One is the non-stop action. Not a night goes by when I can’t stroll into the ER and find three or four muscle-bound gangbangers in with one of their crew who had been beaten, stabbed or shot. Being a nurse, I of course render whatever comfort I can, oftentimes on my knees in the ER restroom.

In fact, when you walk out our main entrance, you can either turn right and walk up the hill to a relatively safe, well-travelled street, or turn left, down the hill to one of the main forts of the biggest gang in town. It’s not safe for a white girl to travel down the hill alone, but I find myself down there all the time.

The other cool thing is nobody really knows what’s going on, so accidents can happen. Especially when there’s someone like me around.

A couple weeks ago, we had these two patients come in the same day. Both were rather slender young men in their early 20s. It was easy to see both were losers. One had apparently been volunteering in some godawful place and contracted a bad infection. His leg was swollen and the infection was spreading rapidly. He was scheduled to have his leg amputated first thing in the morning.

The other was a so-called athlete. But really, he was just a soccer player. He had torn ligaments in his knee and was scheduled for reconstruction. Apparently, he was one of these little wimps who ran around faking injuries all the time, so when he really went down with his knee all torn up, nobody even believed him. He lay there screaming for about five minutes before anyone looked at him.

Anyway, what do you think would happen if these two losers’ charts got switched the night before their surgeries? Well, that’s what I wondered too. So I switched them.

When I came in for my shift the next day, it was hilarious. That morning, instead of repairing Bobby’s (the soccer player) injured knee, they had just hacked his leg off. Since he was out most of the day, nobody realized the mistake. They wheeled Nick (with the infection) in for his surgery that evening, right around the same time Hopalong Bobby was waking up. They didn’t find a damaged knee. They found an infection that had spread out of control. Actually, what happened to Nick is a pretty funny story too, but I want to focus on Bobby now.

When he got over the shock of seeing just one leg down there, he started screaming bloody murder. About how we ruined his career (big loss) and how the hospital would pay. They had to sedate him. And even though I was quite amused by what I had done so far, I couldn’t resist taking it a step farther.

Bobby actually thought he was a stud and had flirted with me before his unfortunate surgery. I had snuck a peek at what he was carrying around in his shorts and had to stifle my laughter. After the surgery I was glad I had behaved with him, since now he saw me as a friendly, and incredibly hot, face. I went to see him the next day and professed sympathy. I did a great job keeping a straight face as I told him how unfair it all was. I leaned over to adjust his pillow and gave him a good look at my cleavage. I could tell that missing leg was quickly being replaced by a new smaller one.

I flirted with him like that for a couple of days as he talked about the legal action he would be taking and how he would own the hospital someday. That’s when I put my new plan into action.

“Bobby, darling, you have to be careful. Talking like that. There are powerful people here. I’ve heard rumors that they won’t let you get away with your law suit.”

He laughed, but I could tell the wimp was a little fearful. “What could they do,” he asked.

“Look at what they’ve already done. Accidents happen all the time in a hospital like this.” Now the little shit seemed really scared. I went on. “When I’m here, I can keep an eye out for you. But I can’t be here all the time.”

“What should I do,” he asked, now in full panic.

I told him he needed to get out of the hospital. I could get it all set it for him, but he would have to wheel himself out on his own. I couldn’t be seen helping him. I would meet him outside and take him somewhere safe. He was practically in tears as thanked me.

That evening, I helped Bobby get into a wheelchair. I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and wished him luck. Bobby then wheeled himself out, right past several nurses and doctors. When they tried to stop him, he called them all a bunch of bad names and kept right on going.

I was waiting for him just outside the door. I grabbed his chair and told him I had a car waiting at the bottom of the hill. I took him a little ways down the hill, then locked his wheels and said I needed to check on the car. He thanked me again, but said his leg was really starting to hurt. (I think I accidentally gave him a placebo instead of the real painkiller before he left. Oops.)

At the bottom of the hill, one of my favorite bangers, Damien, was hanging out with a few of his posse. Damien had the shoulders of a bull (and the cock too, but that’s another story), and the coolest gold tooth at the front of his mouth. When he saw me, he asked if I was there for blow or for dick, cause he was having a special sale on both. I loved the way he flirted. I told him that on my way down, I passed by this suspicious guy in a wheelchair halfway up the hill. Damien looked up and saw little Bobby.

He asked why I thought the wimp was suspicious. I said I heard him talking on his phone as he was snapping pictures of Damien and the boys. He sounded a lot like an undercover cop to me. The look on Damien’s face almost made cum right there. “Well, we’ll see about that,” he said.

“Wait, I have an idea,” I told him. I went back up to Bobby and told him everything was all set. Then I unlocked his wheels and made sure he was pointed straight down the sidewalk. Then I let go.

The squeals that came from Bobby as he barreled on the sidewalk were hilarious. But when he saw that he was headed straight for Damien and six other giants, the squeals turned to shrieks of horror. I was so excited I started jumping up and down.

Damien took a metal pole (that I had seen him use many times before) and expertly stuck it into one of Bobby’s wheels. Bobby went soaring through the air and landed with a thud. His stitches all popped open and blood poured out of his stump. Damien’s crew began stomping, totally unconcerned about the passersby, who all turned away when they saw what was happening. I was the only one running toward them.

By the time I got there, Bobby’s face was gone, turned to bloody mush. But they continued to kick and stomp until there was hardly anything left but blood soaked hospital clothing. Damien winked at me and said that he owed me one. I was so wet I cashed in right then and there, with Damien and all six of his crew.

Since Bobby had left against medical advice, the hospital was off the hook, and of course, no one dared testify against Damien. It made me feel good. After all, I was the one who had jeopardized the hospital, and so I should be the one to make sure it would come out OK. Because I dearly love my job.

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