Friday, February 10, 2012

Nurse...stalking me? OMG! She thinks I'm Arnold Schwarzenegger!

I haven't posted in a few days - which may have tipped off Tattler readers - that I was either kidnapped, six feet under, or in the hospital being treated for that nasty flu bug that has been floating 'round town in recent days.

Actually, it was the former that landed me in a UCLA Medical facility, where a slew of IV's clung to my limbs daily, as a myriad of tubes pumped exotic antibiotics in - this way 'n that - in a concerted effort to eradicate the infection.

Of course, there was a lot of poking (and prodding) going down, too (by a host of willing participants directing at the helm, I might add).

Get along little doggie!

For the most part, the nurses and doctors on duty who treated me, were polite and on-the-ball.

But, the behavior of one or two of the medical staff raised an eyebrow now-and-then.

One middle-aged gal with a gleam in her eye was terribly attentive - in fact, so much so - that she brought a whole new meaning to the term "bedside manner".

At one point, I thought she was downright kinky in her heart-of-hearts, when she insisted that I roll-over in bed so she could take a glimpse at my - um - butt-hole (what else would 'ya call it?) to ensure that it was pretty as pink and rash-free!

Gosh, I wonder, did she have the hots for me???

But, the most intriguing encounter surfaced out-of-the-blue, when I was preparing for my discharge from the hospital.

A middle-aged maid hovered perilously close to my bed as she hummed a roster of romantic ballads sweetly under her breath.

Shortly after she slipped out of the room with a bag of trash in hand, she suddenly sashayed back in, with a tiny sheet of blank paper in hand.

"For me," she half-whispered in broken English.

"Write down what you like. Good morning (!). How are you (!)," she explained, though it was all Greek to me at this point!

"When I have a moment," I stuttered, as I proceeded to pack up my toiletries.

She smiled shyly, then exited, with little more ado.

Seconds later, she dashed back in though, and proceeded to blurt out additional instructions.

"I forgot. Write your name and the date."

Bossy little health worker, eh?


It suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks.

The poor woman must have thought I was Arnold Schwarzenegger in the very flesh.

Poor thing. 

Guess I blew her get-rich schemes right out of Santa Monica Bay from the get-go, eh?

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