Page 9 of Theta

"Sorry. I've got a morbid sense of humor. Comes with the job."

"Got any terrible nursing jokes?"

She sputters. "Oh god, Killy. Do I ever.”

"Hit me with one."

“Okay, but…be warned. Nurse humor is dark. So the other day I was at the bank cashing a check, right, and the pen they had at the teller's station wasn't working. I always have my favorite pen in my purse, so I went to grab it. And guess what? No pen. I always leave the thing in the same place so I can find it when I need it. But this time, instead of a pen, I found a thermometer."

I blink into the darkness, not following the joke, yet. “Um."

"So I look at the teller, and I go, 'oh, great. Some asshole has my favorite pen.’"

It takes a second, and then I burst into laughter. “Oh my god, Story."

"Not that dark, but it's a funny one." She pats my thigh. "And honestly, Killy, a lot of the stuff we nurses joke with each other about would get us a one-way trip to HR if it was overheard. It's funny to us, but…I wouldn't repeat most of it to anyone but another emergency medicine nurse or doctor." Another pause. "I had a patient in cardiac arrest the other day. We kept losing him and kept having to use the paddles to bring him back. Well, our resident, Dr. Henson, came by to check on us, and he asked how the patient's pressure was right after we'd just brought him back. And Jen, who was using the paddles, said, 'Oh, it's shockingly good.'" She pauses again. "The silence after that joke was…electric."

The last part is what really sends me into hysterics, possibly more so than the joke really deserves, but hey, I've been alone in the dark for two weeks, apparently, so forgive me if I'm a little punch-drunk.

Emboldened, Story tries another. "Oh, I’ve got one. Why should you never mess with a peds nurse?" She says it peeds, meaning pediatric, I assume.

"Why?"

"They have very little patients." I'm still cackling at this one when she continues. "Here's an oldie-but-goodie. What's the difference between an oral and rectal thermometer?” Cue the dramatic pause. "The taste."

“Oh god, ew."

"Now, my roommate in college was epileptic, okay, and she told me this one, so just…just keep in mind the source when you hear it.”

"Oh god. Okay?"

"What do they call an epileptic in a garden? Seizure salad. Here’s another from my roommate: What do you do when an epileptic has a seizure in the bathtub? Throw in your laundry."

"What the fuck, Story?" I say, wheezing. "Holy shit, that's dark."

"I told you! Rena always said she had to find the humor in her condition." She pauses again. "The first time she told me a seizure joke, she laughed so hard she was…shaking."

"Story!"

"You asked." A pause. “Oh, here's a good one I heard just last week. How many masochists does it take to put in a lightbulb?" I groan as I wait for the punchline. "Just one, but it takes a full surgical team to get it out again."

“I’m sorry I asked. Good lord. Ya'll are fucked up." I nudge her with my knee. "For real, though. I don't know how you do what you do."

"Me either, some days. But then, I also can't imagine doing anything else. It's all I've ever wanted to do."

"Why?" I ask, after washing down a bite of truly unappetizing "meat".

"Mom." It's her only answer, and I can tell that's the end of the answer, so I say nothing. A few minutes go by. "I expected you to follow up on that."

"Didn't seem like you wanted to."

“What else are we gonna do in here but talk?" Another long pause. "You know the story of how Mom ended up adopting me?"

"Um, sort of?" I answer. "I know your parents were murdered when you were like five, but that's all I know."

A heavy sigh. "Yeah. Well, there's a bit more to it."

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