I giggled all day over this one, because the scene went on and on and on... They weren't even my patients, but the husband was at the desk constantly. He'd come out of the room with a very loud, worn-out sigh and meander over to the desk to ask his questions. Even after a gentle suggestion of using the callbell, he continued this practice, like he was doing us a favor. (Please pass the emesis basin.)
I swear, I have never had anyone so food oriented in my life! It began first thing in the morning, when he dragged himself out to the desk (I'm talking wearing shorts, revealing his overgrown legs, sandals - shouldn't there be a law against men with bad feet wearing sandals?! - and a huge Dallas Cowboys jersey - clearly he's not one that's ever played the game) and asks where the nearest Kolache or donut place is. We politely direct him down the street.
He returns with his parents (we didn't need introductions - it was him x40 years with an oxygen tank) and an older woman. Each person was larger and less mobile than the previous. He was carrying two large boxes of donuts. Often patients get donuts and drop a box off at the nurses desk. Not this guy! He carried those two boxes into the room (where his wife could not partake) and those four people proceeded to plow through the two boxes like they were nothing. It was repulsion at it's best.
A couple hours later, Studly himself is back at the desk, wondering where the nearest BBQ place is, and if they deliver. Sorry, Dude, I can't help you. I pretended to run to the OR but was really running to the Nurses Lounge to die laughing. Are you kidding me?!
I don't even know if he got his BBQ, all I know is that one hour later Jason's Deli arrived with several bags of food. His wife was in active labor now, but that didn't slow him down! He stuck his head out the door as I was passing, asking about an alarm going off. I peeked my head in. It took all of my professionalism to keep a straight face. The woman was lying in bed, surrounded by her husband and three older adults. Each of them was leaning back, their bellies protruding grotesquely, balancing their plates on top. This brought the plate as close as possible to their mouths with the least amount of effort to shovel in the food. It reminded me of pigs at the trough.
The grandfather had unplugged himself from his oxygen and had taken the liberty to plug himself into the oxygen supply in the wall. Don't even address that - just get out! I turn off the alarm with a short explanation - they're probably not listening anyways - and turn to leave. I am stopped by Grandma, who would like to know if there is a microwave close by so that they can heat up their potatoes: "They brought us a bunch of potatoes as hard as rocks!" Another quick explanation and I run.
Ten minutes later, Jason's Deli is back with two more bags of food. WTF?! Can you believe they ordered "replacement" potatoes because the first ones were too hard. So they finished cooking those and ate them, then ate the second batch.
Shortly after, Mom delivered. Guess what they'd saved her to eat after hours of hard labor? That's right. Nothing. Oink. Oink.
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