By follies, I mean mistakes. Not the Foley’s Catheter which nurses secretly enjoy inserting in a man’s, well, manhood. Susie is too young and inexperienced for that.
Truth is, Susie is beginning to lose her grip. No no, not on things you people are imagining. And so what if it’s Valentine’s Day today? Duh. It’s all about duty and care and responsibility, that sort. Tell you what, all those pearls of nursing wisdom that Susie had allegedly picked up at the Holy Mercy School of Human Nursing, Tellichherry appear to be getting squandered in a sea of sloppy neglect. Sigh.
My apprehensions have been confirmed. One day when, upon being asked to administer a gentle dose of soap water enema to an elderly constipated patient, Susie proceeded to launder his unsuspecting intestines with a deadly mix of Surf Ultra and, hold your breaths, lime scented caustic soda! Needless to say, a perfect catastrophe ensued, with the stricken patient slipping into coma and, spectacularly enough, working up a huge ball of foam every time he passed a gust of rectal wind. Of course it generated a lot of interest among fellow patients and their relatives who had never seen such a miracle in their lives, and brought me laurels as a doctor who treats patients by revolutionary methods, I secretly felt let down by Susies’s abject carelessness. More disturbingly, a nosy TV reporter swooped on the patient and started asking very uncomfortable questions. To allay his suspicions of criminal misconduct, I had to submit myself for a long chat with him over lunch. Two whole butter chickens and three whole sundaes later I could barely manage to convince him that this was every bit a variant of the Schulbaster-von Memmering syndrome, quite harmless by any standards. Whew! But just because Susie’s intentions were noble, and her charms nubile, that the day was saved for her. As for the horror the poor old soul endured, the less said the better. The moment he reached home, he saw the washing machine and collapsed in a heap. His neighbours, I hear, noticed that his distraught posteriors continued to smell of lime for quite some time. Sublime, as they say.
In another recent instance, Susie almost had me sent to the gallows. It so happened that the wife of the superintendent of police was referred to me for treatment of a stomach illness arising out of indiscretions she had indulged in, in a
titty (hark! These typos) kitty party the day before. Having tried my best to console her insulted entrails with a few friendly pats here and there, I directed Susie to respectfully administer an antibiotic shot, specifically instructing her to use a thin syringe, and as gently as possible. As I came out of the room to afford them some privacy, a piercing shriek rang out, followed by a string of, let’s say, quite colorful expletives. Before I could rush in , the SP’s wife ejected like a shotgun slug, menace writ large on her vicious countenance. The long and short of it is that before leaving, missus SP threatened me with getting my ass suspended from the ceiling at the nearest police station and a round of sound thrashing by eager specialists in the trade. Things became clear in no time. Susie, it appeared, had stabbed the wasp with a stout 18G needle, the kind you prefer to use in buffaloes to inject those milking hormones. There was hardly anything I could do except wait for the knock of a policeman at my door. Anyway, nothing much happened for a couple of days, and then one evening, I received a call from the Superintendent himself, who thanked me profusely for showing the conviction to tackle his wife’s troubles with a ruthless, almost hit-man like, resolve.
It was then when I decided to call a spade a spade, and summoned Susie for an interview this morning, specifically designed to grasp her booty. Her mental booty I mean.
“Sit down Susie. We need to talk.”
“Having headache saar?”
“No no, nothing is aching Susie. Just sit down.”
“Okay saar”. Susie adjusted her big, round pair of spectacles as always and drew her chair close to me. She has this uncanny ability to throw my thought process off balance, you see. For a moment, I forgot why had I summoned her.
“Susie”, I began, as things settled down “I have noticed that you often forgetting things. What’s the matter?”
“No saar!” Susie promptly adopted a look that amply stated her disbelief at such an insinuation.
“Well Susie”, I said sternly “there have been many complaints against you.” When I am stern, I am an unyielding pillar of authority. Much like Bruce Willis in Die Hard. Even the hairstyle.
“O God saar! Totally forgot!” Susie stood up with a big, disarming smile on her face and rushed towards the door, seductively undulating her
coconuts coconut oiled hair. “Wait saar. I have something for you…”
She appeared with a rose. Won’t tell you the colour. “Happy Valentine’s Day saar”. My heart briefly transformed into a fish and started thrashing about in a pond of love.
But then, I have a lingering suspicion that the rose arose out of Sebastian’s (the lab guy) undying love for Susie. Why, it even smelt of cigarette. Still, a rose is a rose, and Susie’s upbraiding shall have to wait.
Don’t you remember how she went about pinching pennies during the recession? READ HERE.