You’re Kidding? The Confused Orderly

Some years ago I was working a night shift at a medium sized hospital in the British Midlands.

The theatre orderly was a giant of a man but sadly his intellect was somewhat below par…not the sharpest knife in the draw you might say. He was however exceptionally hard working and a very kind man who would help anyone.

An emergency arrived in theatre, an elderly lady with a very distended abdomen. The surgeon found she was rather, well, to put it politely, backed up…her bowel was blocked with poo.

The scrub nurse that night was an awfully proper young lady who would never dream of saying the word poo, so she handed out a bag of ‘faecal matter’ and told the orderly to take it to the nearest ward and put it into the macerator machine.

Off he went to ward three and is just about to tip the pile of poo into the macerator when the ward sister arrives.

“What are you doing?” She asked. The orderly, who spoke very slowly apparently stopped and thought for a few seconds before replying

“I’m…puttin’…this….sh…foetal…matter…in…the…bin…machine…Sister”

Horrified at the thought of a miscarried foetus ending up in the macerator she attempted to snatch the bag from him. This was a bad move. When given a task he would ALWAYS complete it. The ensuing struggle saw the bag split, and with him being so much taller than her, the ward sister was the main recipient of the contents.

The orderly returned looking very downcast so obviously we asked him what was wrong.

“Sister…is…covered…in….shit…an’…she…ain’t…very…’appy” He muttered.

Did I mention he was also a master of understatement?

He’s the same guy that got knocked off his bike by a frozen chicken, but I’ll save that one for another day.

Take Care

Liz