Truth is stranger than Fiction, Part III
More stories from The Car Ate My Mapsco (wirtten by hospice staff)

Snakes, strippers, and the Fort Worth Police . . .

We had a patient with heart disease whose granddaughter called to report her grandmother was having chest pain. The patient's primary nurse was on vacation, so being the closest person, I gladly went, armed only with the knowledge that the granddaughter had called to report the chest pain, but was going to bed, since it was 8:00 a.m. and she worked all night as a stripper. She did mention she would leave the door unlocked and not to worry because the pet snake was in his cage.

Needless to say I proceeded quickly, but cautiously, only to arrive to find the door locked. Obviously, the granddaughter had a rough night at work because neither my banging on the door nor my phone calls would arouse her. By now I am getting concerned about the patient, who wasn't responding to my banging or calls either. Hoping I had misunderstood my instructions, I went to the back door, hoping it was open. No such luck. On my way back to the front of the house I passed what was obviously the patient's room. I could see in the window and she was sitting up in the chair, but couldn't tell if she was awake. The window was cracked so I put my face up to the crack to talk through the window, but the patient either couldn't or wouldn't respond. Without thinking I lifted the window and hoisted myself up to crawl in (yes, I had a dress on).

About the time I got my shoulders up to the ledge, I felt the largest hand in the world on my shoulder. Without turning around, my mind immediately thought "help at last." WRONG; it was the Fort Worth Police with handcuffs and guns drawn. As soon as I started trying to explain, in a rather high pitched panicked voice, it was clear they were not buying my story. Again my mind raced to the patient and the employee handbook, and no, I didn't remember bail money being listed in the benefit section. I sat in the back of the police car the whole time, yelling at them that there was a lady in there having chest pain and did they really think most burglars wore a stethoscope and carried a blood pressure cuff!?
Seems they were familiar with the residence and nothing surprised them. The neighborhood watch had called the police, since they didn't recognize me or my car. After what seemed like an eternity, they decided to check out my story (I didn't get my one phone call which would have verified my story).

The patient was fine, sleeping soundly in her chair; the snake was asleep in his cage; and the granddaughter never budged! The rest of the day seemed terribly routine in comparison.

Doggie Door . . . I was scheduled to visit Carl on a routine visit. I was seeing him twice a week but only had him as my patient for a month or two, so I was still getting to know him and his family. Carl has ALS and at that time was transferable to W/C as he was able to bear weight. His wife worked and we had our HHA visit in the mornings to get him up and set him on his recliner with his urinal nearby and his tv remote and telephone handy. If I called he could answer but speech was difficult to understand and he knew it was my regular visit anyway.

When I arrived I heard his dogs barking from his bedroom. I walked around the back to the backdoor as usual but he was not on his recliner! I was afraid our HHA didn't show up and he had been in bed all day without any assistance! I went to get the key at its usual hiding place but it wasn't there! By now I am in a panic! Carl alone w/o his urinal, no phone, g-tube feeding must be out, dogs are barking, front door locked, back door locked! The only way in the house was through the doggie door!!! OK, no problem.

I squat down and throw in my nursing bag. My arm did not come back as it was being held by the jaws of Carl's golden retriever, Caesar. Me being a dog person, just sat still as Caesar "massaged" my arm as a warning. After a minute of this he decided to let go. I then gingerly withdrew my soggy arm and proceeded in VERY slowly. As I reached for my nursing bag, again I get a toothy reception from Caesar. Remaining as calm as possible under the circumstances and doing as much doggy baby talk that I could muster, Caesar finally released me again. By now I think he recognized me as his tail started to wag. I walked thru the house calling Carl's name and heading to his bedroom. Guess what, . . . Carl was gone! His bed was made, and every thing seemed in order. That's when I remembered he and his wife had a handicapped van which was missing from the driveway and was not in the garage. I figured out his wife must have taken him to a doctor appointment or something. I was relieved until I realized I just broke into a patients home!!! A breaking and entering charge would not look good on my record! I quickly petted Caesar good by and left out the front door, not the doggie door.

I called Carolyn (Carl's wife) every hour until I got her to let her know I had been there. She laughed at the dogie door entry and told me it was a routine visit to his doctor.

P.S. Michel won an Applause award (employee of the month) for this story, for truly going "above and beyond" the call of (hospice) duty!

Remember when . . . Remember one of our team physicians as the Team 2 famous "sleeping giant" in team meetings. Among his more famous sayings was "Don't buy any green bananas,." (referring to a patient with a very limited prognosis). He also talked about patients "circling." New employees, when asking about that term, were told two different sources of that, (1) water draining down circles the drain as it disappears, and (2) buzzards circling over the dying. I remember that he would suggest popcicles and watermelon for those who were not eating or drinking.

Remember some more . . . Some stress relievers that used to take place in the "Old House." There was a bottle of wine in the refrigerator in the break room downstairs. It used to be brought out Friday after 5 pm (or on other days of great accomplishment, like the day when the worst of all possible General Managers got his walking papers.) There were also Hot Fudge Sundae alerts,"It is so strange that the fun memories for me are all in the Old House. The ghost stories, the large memorial services, the team meetings in the conference room, the "offices" of the team directors, our little hole of an office in the basement, our political rally for Pete Geren, doing private grief work with Joyce. Going to Dallas every day when we did not pass our inspection. We would have a group hug call in the early days when everyone in the house would go to the reception area and circle up for a group hug. It just seems like those were our truly Golden Days."

Speaking of going to Dallas . . . Did you know that the universal Hospice nurse distress signal is waving a chux over your overheated car's engine? I found a co worker on the shoulder of I 30 one morning (on my way to Dallas for Team Meeting). No one had stopped to help him, but as soon as I stopped and offered him a ride to the office, all of a sudden several people wanted to stop and help!

Stress relief . . . and trips to Chili's for Friday night supper of Veggie Tacos and Hot Fudge Sundae, with extra hot fudge. (Surely the veggie tacos negated the hot fudge?) It sure made Fridays better!

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