Thank you, Poop Angel in The Devil Beneath My Feet

I’m late to the table here, I know, but I finally sat down and read what The View said about nurses. Holy shit. The only thing more offensive and disrespectful than Joy Behar’s uncalled for and completely undeserved slam on nurses, is that dismissive, bullshit, fake ass “apology.” That was not an apology by any stretch, that was her defending her statement and just slamming nurses again. What the fuck is even wrong with this woman, she claims her niece is a nurse but doesn’t seem to have any sort of an idea of what nurses actually do.

But let’s take the high road here for just a second and NOT get into the fact that Joy Behar’s job is to sit at a table surrounded by other idiotic biddies and play 50’s-Housewife-Gossip-Hour and try to stay relevant. Let’s instead go into what a nurse does:

I shit my pants once. I did. Shit my pants, it was a complete disaster. I had the stomach flu, and it was still early enough in the game that I DIDNT KNOW I had the stomach flu. Since I figured I just drank one too many cups of coffee that day, I disregarded my rumbling tummy and still went out to get shitfaced. Shitfaced I did get, in the most literal and horrifying sense imaginable. I sampled Thai food, chugged a bottle of champagne, lost 3 rounds of beer pong and stumbled through a fog bank of weed smoke before finally making it outside to black out, and pass out in the snow, where I promptly shat my pants in front of more than a few people. My friends (and I use “friends” very seriously because frankly, I am forever in their debt) rolled my ass onto a collapsed tent and threw me in the back of the car and took me to a hospital, fearing I had alcohol poisoning or Super Ebola or was about to evolve into my final form.

My friends stayed with me until I was admitted into the ER, and it is for this reason that I would still, to this day, gladly donate a kidney to either one of them should the opportunity arise. You can’t ask for better friends than that. Once admitted, they hoisted my shit covered, snow caked carcass onto a bed, and do you know what happened?

A nurse, not a doctor, a nurse, wiped my ass.

I lay there like a fat, drunk, shit covered slug, and a nurse wiped my ass and cleaned me off. I don’t know who she is, and I never got to say thank you, I never even saw her again. Like a Poop Angel sent from above she was gone as quickly as she came, I assume to go throw my pants into an incinerator.

Another nurse checked my vitals, shined a light into my eyeball, and jammed a couple needles full of life sustaining liquids into me, all the while Poop Nurse worked diligently, deftly, cleaning shit off my pasty carcass.

Once I was relatively presentable a doctor came in, looked at some papers, poked and prodded me, and gave the ruling of Stomach Flu.

“Most people who think they have the stomach flu, don’t have the stomach flu.” He said. “What they have is a stomach bug, maybe they’re experiencing diarrhea or vomiting, but they don’t have the stomach flu. No, if you have the stomach flu, this is usually how you find out. You shit yourself, barf on yourself, and generally just assume you’re going to die without medical attention, which incidentally is completely possible. Still though, I would recommend staying away from any alcohol until you are completely certain you no longer have the flu, and in the meantime, keep close to a bathroom.”

While I appreciated his presence and diagnosis, and thanked the universe for people with the capacity for the Medical Field, all I could think of was Poop Angel. Some poor soul, who chose this career so she could help people, was given the task of cleaning my disgusting, shit covered chassis, and I was too incoherent to even help. I silently wished I was just found dead, only so that instead of having to sponge feces off of me, they could have just lied me on the floor of a tiled room and hit me with a hose, just to save her the effort.

A nurse checked me into the ER. A nurse took my vitals, a nurse gave me medicine, a nurse MOPPED FECES OFF OF MY BODY with nothing but a sponge, soapy water, and some thin latex gloves keeping POOP off her skin, and when I had been cleaned up sufficiently, a nurse brought me a warm blanket, straight from the dryer.

Let me reiterate that last part: I got human shit on the floor of the ER, on a hospital bed, probably on at least 3 people, someone else had to clean it up, and a nurse STILL MADE AN EFFORT TO BRING ME A WARM BLANKET.

While I appreciate Doctors and Surgeons, and even the executives that keep a hospital’s lights on, without Nurses, the entire hospital would come to a grinding halt. Without Nurses, no one is cared for. Without Nurses, no paperwork is completed. Without Nurses, millions die.

So let me wrap up my poop story by saying this:

Fuck you, cast of The View, but an extra special double backflip Fuck You to Joy Behar. I sincerely hope you don’t need the aid of a hospital worker anytime soon. Not because I think the nurses there wouldn’t help you, even though I wish they wouldn’t. But because I know they will help you, because they must, and not just to keep their job but because they, as people, are incapable of letting you just die. Not me, I could do it, I’m just sayin there’s a reason I’m not a nurse. But they would help you, even though you belittled and disrespected them on national television, they would still help you, and frankly you don’t fucking deserve it.

Joy, you and your coworkers owe nurses everywhere an actual apology.

And Poop Angel, if you’re out there, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to do what you did, and I can’t thank you enough for doing it. You saw me at, quite seriously, my absolute lowest point, and still managed to let us both retain some dignity. Endless thanks, Poop Angel, and thanks to all the other nurses that refused to let me die in a pile of feces and snow.