Read Confessions of a Male Nurse for Free Online Page A

it’s a bit small,’ said Mr Groom, looking down at the chair.
    He was right, too. Even if we could have fitted him in the shower chair, I doubt it would have held his weight. I should have thought of this, and felt a touch stupid. I tried a normal wheelchair, but this was too small as well. I eventually managed to get hold of a chair used by the porters, which was half-again the size of an average wheelchair. These chairs are so big because they’re used to take patients between various departments around the hospital, and the extra space is often used for things like oxygen bottles, notes and IV poles.
    ‘Oh, that’s pure fucking heaven,’ were Mr Groom’s first words as I turned the shower head on to him.
    The water streaming off him was a dirty looking grey colour from the build-up of the sweat and dirt that I had never been able to completely get rid of.
    ‘Harder. It won’t hurt,’ he told me as I scrubbed his back. ‘I want it red and raw . . . Oh fuck that’s good. I don’t want another fucking bed sponge again, no offence intended, doc.’
    I wasn’t offended, just pleased to see him happy. Mr Groom seemed to like having me around and I was discovering that I also enjoyed working with him, even though he was heavy work. I didn’t see before me an intimidating ex-gang member, but a man in need of our help, a man who tried not to be a burden, a man now fighting for his life.
    Any preconceptions I had had about Mr Groom had by now been turned on their head.
    ‘Here, let me stand up and you can give my bum a good rub.’
    He grabbed hold of the rail while I prepared to pull the chair away.
    ‘On the count of three,’ I said. ‘Ready? One, two, three, heave.’
    Something unexpected happened.
    ‘Let’s try again . . . and heave.’
    I couldn’t remove the chair.
    He turned his head towards me; his face had an almost apologetic look.
    ‘Guess I need to lose a few pounds.’
    ‘What do you think?’ I asked the nurses assembled in Mr Groom’s room. ‘All suggestions are welcome.’
    I was greeted with silence and shrugged shoulders. Obviously, no one else had had this problem before, and as no one was coming up with a clever solution, I took the lead and tried the direct approach.
    I positioned two nurses so they were holding Mr Groom’s arms; another nurse and I held the chair steady, and the last nurse grabbed hold of the bed.
    On the count of three everyone began heaving – biceps flexed; thighs braced.
    ‘It’s not going to work,’ Carol grunted, as she pulled.
    ‘It has to work,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘Pull harder.’
    Suddenly the chair released its victim and Mr Groom was catapulted on to his bed. The poor nurse whose job it had been to brace the bed was squashed as the bed crashed against the wall. The towels that were being used to cover Mr Groom’s nakedness landed on the floor, and there was a moment of shocked silence as everyone stared at the bare, quivering backside of Mr Groom as he lay straddled across the bed. I grabbed a towel off the floor and tried to cover him.
    He began making a strange sound, his whole body convulsing. What had we done?
    But I soon recognised the noise, and realised the convulsing wasn’t a seizure, it was laughter. And not just a polite laugh to try to hide embarrassment, but a true, full-bodied, incapacitating, belly laugh; the contagious type.
    Part 3: Missing parts
    Mr Groom’s sense of humour saved us all from feeling like absolute crap. In my short time as a nurse, I felt that nothing could top it.
    Enter Dr Grey.
    Dr Grey decided that as Mr Groom was getting better, it was time to have his urinary catheter removed.
    ‘Surely not yet, doc, he’s only just managed to stand on his own. Shouldn’t we leave it at least another couple of days?’ I asked.
    ‘Absolutely not, it’s been in there far longer than necessary, he’s at risk of infection.’
    The catheter is the plastic tube I mentioned earlier; it goes up the penis and