One of my most favorite patient populations to work with is the elderly (or as we lovingly call them - the geris). Mind you, I dread being a nurse for those nasty old people who don't even have an excuse of severe dementia to be a bitch to you and treat you as their personal caregiver and think it's expected of you to make them tea, and brush their dentures for them, and, hey, since you are already in the room, how about rubbing some moisturizing lotion into my flaking legs? When I say I love working with the elderly I mean those old people who remind you of your grandparents and who are so sweet that you want to take them home with you and watch them knit you winter socks while they rock in a chair by the non-existent fireplace (because who am I kidding? I live in a tiny apartment that doesn't only have a fireplace but isn't even big enough to fit a rocking chair in the living room).
I consider it my lucky day when some 85-year-old person that I'm caring for is not only sweet, kind, and lovely but also turns out to have an amazing sense of humor. I still think of this one lady that I had as a patient a few months back. She was close to 90 and I figured she might need some help getting changed into a hospital gown. I explained to her why she needed to change and helped her out of her winter coat. She then stretched the collar of her sweater and took a peak inside. "Are there any boobs left in there?" she said. "Yep. There's a couple."
I fell in love with her right then and there. On the spot. Just like that. Too bad there was a bunch of her family members waiting out in the waiting room. Otherwise, I would've asked her to adopt me just so that I could listen to her talk all day long while I bake her cookies, and rub lotion into her flaking legs, and knit winter scarves for her to make sure she doesn't get sore throat, just so that she wouldn't stop talking.
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