The Infamous Ellen James(12)

"Elle, come back! I'm sorry, but that is some seriously funny shit!" Amy chokes out through continued bursts of laughter.

"I take it back, Amy! If I liked vagina, there is NO way you would be my number one lesbian lover! You wouldn't even be in my top three! You'd be behind the fat girl in Pitch Perfect!" I scream at her before slamming my bedroom door.

Dear Hangover,

I'm your bitch.

Sincerely,

Ellen





Chapter Nine



“Karma can be a snarky little bitch.”



I am finally fully recovered from my hangover after the infamous Harlem Shake night. Although I love that bitch dearly, tequila rocked my ass, and I found myself severely hungover all day yesterday. Even ibuprofen and greasy fast food couldn't save me from the nasty headache and all-day nausea.

I know, poor me, right? But seriously, my whole body is still aching today!

I'm presuming the muscle soreness may be a direct result of all the dancing I apparently took part in. I'm using the term dancing very loosely here. The moves I was displaying on Amy's video were nothing short of pathetic, looking more like I was having an actual seizure rather than the sex kitten I was probably picturing in my drunken head.

So here I am, facing another exciting day in the emergency room. I have officially made it halfway through my shift, and I'm getting close to being able to sit my tired ass down for a few minutes. I told Nurse Ratchet I would see this last patient before going on break.

I pull back the curtain in bed one and find this frail, little elderly woman quietly sitting on my gurney. She's an eighty-year-old petite little thing who's about five feet tall and couldn't weigh an ounce over one hundred pounds soaking wet.

"Hi, Mrs. Franks. What brings you in to see me today?" I ask as I pull the curtain back for privacy.

"Oh, honey, I've been having this awful pain down in my undercarriage and I feel like everything is going to fall out." She nervously fidgets and adjusts the stark white sheet around her legs.

Did this woman really just say undercarriage?

"Okay. So how long have you been experiencing this pain and discomfort in your undercarriage?" I attempt to ask with a straight face.

"Hmmmm. Well, dear, I would say it's been at least a month now," Mrs. Franks replies quietly.

"A month, Mrs. Franks? What made you wait so long before seeing a physician?"

"Well, I have always just been able to push my undercarriage right back inside until today, so that's why I came in here to see you." She somehow manages to tell me this without a hint of emotion on her face.

Push her undercarriage right back inside?

God help me if this is going where I think it's going…

"Mrs. Franks, have you had any surgeries on your lady parts? Like maybe a hysterectomy?"

"Oh no, dear. I have all my lady parts, undercarriage included!" she says a little too excitedly.

Yeah, this really is going where I think it's going.

I do a quick assessment and vitals check on Mrs. Franks. Everything is stable and within normal limits. I politely tell her that the physician will be in to examine her shortly before closing the curtain behind me. I have a suspicion that this woman's uterus is quite literally falling out of her vagina. I'm pretty sure any time a little old lady is telling you she pushes her "undercarriage" back inside on a daily basis, we're most likely dealing with something falling out of her hoo-hah.

I hand John the chart for this patient to ensure that he's the one who gets to witness her "undercarriage dilemma." He's taken aback by the fact that I'm actually acknowledging his presence, and it's just too bad he hasn't quite grasped my motives yet.

"Here ya go, Dr. Ryan. Mrs. Franks is waiting patiently for you in bed one," I say to John with a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on my face.

"Thanks. Would you mind assisting me with her?" He asks while glancing through her history and physical.

"Sure, no problem." I'm waiting for his reaction when he finally realizes what this little old woman is here for.

"Uh, Elle. Undercarriage? I'm pretty sure that's not a medical term."

"Well, that's what the sweet old lady kept telling me, so that's what I wrote down.”

God, I'm such a bitch, but honestly, I can't help myself when it comes to him.

I follow John into bed one to assist with Mrs. Franks's examination. I'm acting like a good, resourceful nurse by obtaining a speculum, but I know that once this little old woman drops her pants, her uterus is most likely going to be sitting on the bed.

I can hardly hold back the laughter.

I tend to have an issue with laughing at inappropriate times, such as church, funerals, extremely awkward moments, or like this magical moment we're about to experience right now. I'm finding myself slightly overwhelmed by the hilarity of this entire situation. Unfortunately, John is completely aware of my issue with holding back laughter, and I notice that he's practically scowling at me.