(I promise, this is the last one for a while; but as this is my 4th day in a row working and commuting on I-40, there had to be some stress issues going on)
You are in the hospital; most likely because you are sick, injured, disabled, delivering a baby, or on your last leg (literally and figuratively). You are NOT at Club Med. I repeat, you are NOT at Club Med. You are here to get better and get out, probably for one of two reasons; your insurance doesn't want to pay for a month long retreat or you're not insured and I as a tax payer do not want to pay for you to not have to sleep in your less-than-desirable homestead with the badly behaving kids and the spouse you can't stand when you just have a head cold.
I am not your massage therapist, your waitress, your flight attendant, your nanny, your secretary, your personal assistant, or your bitch. I am your nurse. My job is to keep you alive, do what the doctor orders, and get you out as quickly as possible in the best health status possible for your 5 packs per day and 12 cases of beer a week body. I am not here to change the channels for you on the remote, run to the cafeteria and buy you chicken strips, or keep an eye on your screaming child while you and your spouse try and do the dirty in a hospital shower with your MRSA-infected wound. I will give you respect and I expect the same from you...especially when I have your privates in my hands.
That is all.
A nurse with an entirely new view on the world of healthcare