Recollections: A Whiny Revolution

IN WHICH OUR HEROINE CONTEMPLATES THE BOLSHEVIK REVOLUTION AND THE ACC NURSE’S CALL-BUTTON.


There it was, only a few hours after surgery, in the middle of the night, and that darned night nurse was ignoring me. “The key to all great revolutions,” I thought to myself, “lies in mob mentality. I must make all the patients rise up against this sluggish nurse.” My voice carries well.  In highschool, my drama and speech teacher informed my class one day that I was the only one who didn't need to use a microphone.  Hitler and his star propagandist Goebbels knew about the importance of getting the mob/group on your side, as did the Bolsheviks. It may be that my thoughts were less clear than indicated here, but you get the point. “Help,” I cried loudly. (Sob) (Sob), “My IV hurts so badly. Why won’t anyone come?” (Gut-wrenching Sob) (Sob) “I keep pushing the call button, why won’t you come? Please, help!” (Said pitifully). Star performance. I still feel very smug at how well this worked. I soon had, count them, 2 nurses calling a pharmacist on my behalf in what I must say were panicky voices. Later, my brother-in-law, a doctor by profession, confirmed what I already knew, ACC nurses are often less personable because most of their patients are hooked up to an iron lung… etc…