You Guys are Killing Me

I happened to be one of only 2 female nurses in the department this shift. The other 4 were guys, all the docs were guys, the medic was a guy. The other female was in triage which left me to chaperone all of the many pelvic exams, female rectal exams, and any other exam the docs thought they needed a chaperone for. This is a somewhat unusual situation, and escaped nobody's notice that I was becoming increasingly annoyed to become the "crotch nurse in the land of testosterone". Hmmph. Big Mick (he is Irish, and big, but this pseudonym is not meant as a slur, believe me) noted that it was going to be a long "boys night". I predicted that the testoterone would literally drip off the walls. Eamon thought the boys might surprise me by getting in touch with their femininie sides. I told him I really didn't want to work in Brokeback ER, to which he plaintively replied "I just can't quit you!" Eamon, I don't know which is more disturbing, the fact that you know the reference or the quote or both. Whoo hoo! Let's talk about huntin' and fishin'. Which they did. Interesting night, I never thought there was that much to learn about ice fishing, snowmobiling, and potato guns. Ah, well. After all, this is New Hampshire