Oh! You Mean Mama!

For those of you that do not know me personally, I work fulltime in the medical field. I have not always worked in this field but I have always had a career in customer service.

My current career began as a nurse’s aide in a nursing home…excuse me, a “nursing facility”. Having been politically correct, it was a nursing home. I have dealt with Fred who only spoke in threes, play with his feces forming little balls of shit. Fred would line these on the side rail and use the aides as targets as we walked by. I began to enjoy the dodging exercise. Catherine thought I was her daughter Agnes. Catherine also thought Peter was her daughter Agnes. Our deaf man, Ed, would go through blind man Walter’s window for escape. John once choked me until there was a purple mark around my neck. Just some of my favorites.

The nursing home and all the abuse I received was left behind when I began working at the hospital. Because of my nursing “facility” experience, I would float to the skilled nursing floor on a regular basis. There, Fred was replaced by Jack. He did not form little balls and use us as a target, he would just fling his colostomy bag out into the hall. Customer service, another word for dodging shit.

Because of health reasons (I have learned that when a patient tells you he can walk, it does not necessarily mean he can stand) I jumped on the opportunity to go back to school. I choose medical billing. Yes, I often kick myself for not going for that Health Information degree. However, if I did, I would be very bored on a daily basis.

Talking to patients is my career. I get more abuse now than when I was working in the nursing home! The best way to handle the abuse is to ignore it. Sure, I am yelled at. But every call I think to myself, this patient is sick (mental really) and can’t help but get angry. Most times, this does not work.

Laughter works. I get a charge out of each and everyone of them. Some more than others. Today I returned a call to a patient. A male answers.

“Hello, this is Lynda (blah, blah, blah), I’m returning a call to Charlene (name change). Is she in?”

“Who?”

“Charlene.”

“I’m not really sure…..” male voice trails off.

“Charlene, C H A R L E N E, Charlene. Is she there?”

“Ohhhhh, you mean Mama!”

Why the hell didn’t I think to ask for mama? Thank you Billy Bob and Backwoods Mama for making my day!

If I not been aware of the passing of Truman Capote in 1984, I would have swore I spoke with him today. He made an appearance on The Tonight Show or it may have been Dick Cavitt (omg! I’m old!) when I was young. I had read In True Blood, a fabulous work and yet I always picture him sitting there telling how all of Hollywood are cannibals, eating baby lambs, baby peas, baby carrots. Believe me, when talking to that gentleman, I did everything I could not to laugh.

And, like, there was a young man, like he had some equipment, like but like he had it, like picked up, like months ago and like he was like told he was like done paying for it…..like.

To make the end of my day was an elderly woman, until she actually told me what the problem was, I saw living in the brownstone next to Rosemary and Guy with a drink of tannis root (I loved Ruth Gordon). But as she begins to spin her tale, the inside of my cheek becomes sore. It seems “Minnie’s” physician ordered a raised toilet seat for her. She said it was lovely of him to think of her comfort. She wanted to know exactly what she should do with the “damned” thing.

“Every time I sat on it, it fell inside the toilet with my ass end following after it!”

“The seat belongs to you Minnie. You can do with it what you like.”

“I’d like to give it to the old biddy (Ruth is in her 90s mind you) down the hall. It will keep her busy and out of my hair!”

I picture the “old biddy” getting a delivery in a light blue Tiffany’s box with a lovely white bow at the top.

I love to laugh, my job almost demands it. So thank you Backwoods Mama and her boy Billy Bob, Truman, the Valley Boy from Asia and Ruth. As always, you force me to love my job.