Before I became a nurse, I worked for a year as an EMT for a Fire Dept. EMS Division. One relatively boring night, I was feeling kinda obnoxious, and after we arrived on scene for our next call, I figured I'd mess with the triage nurse's head at the local hospital.
We did our assessment and drove him to the hospital. I handed my run sheet to the triage nurse, who without looking up, asked, "What's up with this guy?"
"Fractured feces," I replied.
NOW, she looked up. "Fractured feces?" she asked.
"Yep, fractured feces," I repeated.
"What is 'fractured feces?' "she demanded.
"I dunno," I said. "We got on scene, this guy was holding his arm in a guarding fashion, in obvious discomfort, and visibly disfigured. I asked him why he called for the ambulance, and he looked at me, pointed at his arm and said, 'Yo, man, my shit's broke!' Like I said, fractured feces."
To this day, I don't know why she refuses to take report from me. . .
