Schnarf

28 Dec

pseudo mossI had probably my most embarrassing moment in an exam room EVER today.  I bring it up on here, because two people already know about it.  And I know they’re talking about it–so I might as well find a way to laugh about it too.  Except, my face still reddens every time I even think of it.

I was taking vitals on a kitty owned by a lesbian couple.  Not that it’s a factor in the story–I just notice these things you see.  We account for less then 10% of the population–females probably even less then that, and rural-ish conservative areas even less, so it’s something exciting when I see not one but two lesbians.

I was asking the history, asking questions about the cat.  Anyway, I’m not sure what occurred at all.  But suddenly something icky flew out of my nose.  I had not seen that coming, and hadn’t expected it.  Not only did it fly out of my nose, but it landed on the cat.  And I could SEE it.  I was horrified, not wanting to call any more attention to the scene by acknowledging it, but obviously, if I could see it so could they.  I didn’t know what to do.

There are some people like mothers or ultra-friendly clients that would break the tension by saying, “Oh you should SEE what comes out of my kids!”  or, “Hey!  That’s exactly what the cat has been doing!”  Not these two.  They just got quiet and stood there kind of sternly.  Watching what I would do next.  So by instinct, I just reached out with a bare hand and plucked it off the cat’s fur, which I’m sure they watched me do.  It was like, “Nobody saw this and that didn’t happen.”  But it HAD happened.  I tried to compose myself and hide it in my fist while I finished up taking the heart rate.  And I’m certain they knew why I was only using one hand and had a closed fist.  The cat was a little wiggly while I was trying to osculate and I opened my other hand, but the grossness was still in it.  So I just had to deal one-handed.  It was terrible!

And for so long–the substance was still in my hand.  And when I needed my hand to type, I couldn’tpseudo-seaweed wipe it anywhere, because the gals would totally know.  And I didn’t want to wash the hand and call more attention to the episode.  So I just didn’t type the vitals in the computer at all, instead making a hasty retreat.

Then, the doctor (of course) needed me to go back in the room to restrain the cat while she stained its eye.  So I had to face the lezbos again.  I.  Was.  Mortified.

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