It was a long freaking day at work. I was busting my a*s all d*mn day from room to room. And for the first time it did not totally involve the f*cking geriatric.

My new admission was a 83y/o russian-speaking lady who came in for abdominal pain rule out diverticulitis. DIVERTICULITIS?! This is a God d*mn stupid disease because of chronic constipation. YES, CONSTIPATION. Who in the God d*mn world does not know that we need to be balanced with carbs, protein, and YES, VEGITABLES AND FRUITS? Hello?

Pardon for my ignorance for a minute here. If you are suffering for abdominal pain for 2-3days without a positive response from tylenol, motrin or some stupid narcotic you took at home, maybe its about d*mn time that you should take your constipated a*s off the couch and go to a doctor before the waste product from your digestive system causes an infection, which may lead to a rupture in your constipated bowels?

And you wonder why you need to know about the preventions of the disease -- the balanced meals and all that which we have been preaching you? Because --now you need to listen well-- because we are TIRED of treating your stupid constipated a*s anymore. If you don't give a sh*t about what you put into your mouth, then why do I have to give a sh*t when next time you have abdominal pain again?

My next admission that afternoon was a 54y/o guy who rode on a motor scooter in, weighed about 400lb-ish. He looked like the size of a baby elephant. Only that he was way off from being cute. He f*cking SMELLED! Pardon me, his feet f*cking SMELLED! (like its gonna make a difference.) So much so that Barb, my coworker, needed to wear a mask to go into that room to help me out with theae smelly infected feet.

The guy failed the outpatient antibiotic treament for the cellulitis on both legs and thighs. The f*cking gross skin infection looked raw and discolored, weeping some smelling infection juice running down the legs.  GAG! Dr. Nassif did the wound culture when we changed the leg dressing. "Just put a contact isolation sign on the door, Purr." He said. Gee, DIDN'T I know it by now? Some d*mn nasty bugs that did not even respond to vancomycin IV. F*cking NASTY sh*t!

This was not the end of it. When I read through the new orders for this new admission, I almost felt my anger was erupting. "Soak feet daily before dressing change." Whats the f*cking point?!?! The guy was so smelly that he did NOT even take shower daily. Not to mention he would bother to soak his lame feet every day. Its like moving a mountain to make a difference. When the problem resolves a little better, he will go home and continue his lame-a*s life -- over-eating, heavily-smoking, sedative life. De ja vou all over again?

When the patient from Rm#305 sh*t all over the 3rd time my shift, I almost wanted to scream. This guy is 55y/o, long history of both cardiac and pulmonary diseases. He came to us for mental status changes and was suspected to be overdosed on some crap he took that he could not maintain oxygen saturation at home. He is a young guy but looks like he is 70 or 80. Thats how diseases take a toll on people.

He was confused, abusive and combative at times. He did not participate anything except feeding himself as long as the tray comes to the room. In another word, he sh*ts on the bed he wants and needs assistance to change his f*cking diapers. The CT:head shows no acute infarction, but only atrophy in the brain. Which let us wonder if he abused alcohol or street drugs because he sure does not look like it was genetically related. Toothless red neck. "I bet he is an alcoholic," Maria said. "So Norm, how much Jack Daniel do you drink every day?" "Nah, I don't drink that. I drink beers...." Bingo. "I drink ....Bud $%%^ and ..." Some BS that it did not make sense to me.

"An alcoholic..." I murmured. Maria started giggling. Obviously she knew my judgemental list has become even longer. "So what do you think nursing is about anyway?" She asked. GOOD QUESTION. I was puzzled for a minute. "I was attracted to the job because its a meaningful, fulfilling profession." I said. Or was I really? "I was willing to take care of the sick." But not the old (over 75), the morbidly obese, the non-participant, the alcoholic, the drug-abusers or the smokers. The list goes on and on. Then who is the deserving one? and who is not (for medical treatment)?

Who am I to judge? I am still puzzled.