On Cover Versions

“This is not the greatest song in the world, no

This is just a tribute”

~ ‘Tribute’, by Jack Black and Kyle Gass

from self-titled album by Tenacious D, 2002

Well, you can all just go ahead and call me a big ol’ sucker.  I’ve gone and done it again.  I’ve bought yet another dire covers album.

Part of the reason is that I’m oddly drawn to cover versions of songs.  The cover version is a musical institution, a tradition long held and observed, and the lure is fairly clear.  There are some pieces of music that have an appeal that resonates through time, almost demanding to be replayed, reinterpreted and reimagined.  They become classics, finding new audiences through the generations.  Think of jazz standards, re-recorded by artists like Harry Connick, Jnr., Michael Bublé, and, Heaven help us all, Rod Stewart.  Classical music is likewise performed by orchestras the world over, for time immemorial.  Through popular resonance and ongoing repetition, some songs become part of our collective cultural consciousness.

Going a step further, speaking as a musician, it is inevitable that you come across songs you wish had come from your own pen.  Since they didn’t, the next best thing is to perform them yourself.  There are few bands or performers I can think of whose recorded or live work consists exclusively of their own material.  With the appropriate recognition of the inceptive authors, cover versions are, for the most part, a perfectly honourable pursuit, more akin to homage than plagiarism.  It can also be instructive, in that it is quite likely worthwhile to listen to music that is enjoyed and admired by professional and knowledgeable artists.

Of course, there is also the lonesome busker, who mercilessly massacres the songs of others to make a very hard-earned buck.  No one really cares too much about them, because let’s face it, they're not really getting much rewards for their efforts.  I’m speaking from experience.

The sad and uncomfortable truth of the cover version is that, like remakes of classic movies, the cover is very, very seldom an improvement on the original.  Like any rules, there are exceptions that prove it:  it is difficult to argue that the late Jeff Buckley’s cover of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah isn't the definitive version of that song, magnificent and sublime.  Some covers may split audiences:  Country and western fans will no doubt prefer Dolly Parton’s drawl of I Will Always Love You over Whitney Houston’s histrionic warble, while the Linda Ronstadt version is all but forgotten.

There are some artists, whose body of work is widely admired, who open up the potential of good covers.  The thought here is that a quality song will hold its own regardless of what someone chooses to do to it.  A third volume of a series of cover versions of Finn Brothers' music (Tim and Neil, from their Split Enz, Crowded House and solo work) found its release recently.  I had bought the first one, She Will Have Her Way (2005) - named for a Neil Finn song - wholly performed by (mostly Australian) female artists.  I enjoyed it, even if some of the tracks added nothing to the originals, such as Natalie Umbruglia's Pineapple Head or Missy Higgins's Stuff and Nonsense.  Some tracks can best be described as bizarre, like New Buffalo's Four Seasons in One Day or Amiel's miscalculated and unfortunate dance version of One Step Ahead *.  Stand outs include Little Birdy's rollicking Six Months in a Leaky Boat, Renee Geyer's husky Into Temptation and Sophie Koh's ripping Charlie.

The second one, by men this time, was less cleverly called He Will Have His Way (2010).  It was patchy at best, lurching from Jimmy Barnes bludgeoning Message to My Girl to The Sleepy Jackson's appalling Better Be Home Soon while Kody Neilson's Kiss the Road of Rarotonga is all but unlistenable.  Emerging from this debacle relatively unscathed is Dan Sultan who teams with The Break (essentially Midnight Oil minus Peter Garrett) with Shark Attack and, in a mild surprise, Darren Hayes's respectful and heart-felt Not Even Close.

Something For Kate's frontman Paul Dempsey lends his considerable talents to the collection with a quiet and skillful rendition of Finn the younger's Addicted.  Dempsey has form: his covers have been found on several other collections prior to this, and he even released a bonus disc of four covers with his most recent solo release, Everything Is True.  The playful title of this bonus disc, Counterfeits and Forgeries, is telling.

The two Finn covers collections were amalgamated into one final volume, called They Will Have Their Way (2011) (see what they did there?), which included four extra tracks not found on the first two volumes.  I was not silly enough to buy all these songs again, oh no.  I'm not that stupid.  I just bought the extra tracks, both good and bad, from iTunes separately.

It's not all bad. The covers album I'm probably most fond of is The Green Album (2011), which has alternative/indie bands playing a selection of songs from the various iterations of The Muppets.  There's much to love about The Muppets, and most of the artists on this album seem to be enjoying themselves.  The key for the artists here is to understand and capture what The Muppets are all about: joy, just sheer, unadulterated joy.  OK Go have joy and fun in spades (check out their clips on YouTube if you need convincing), and it shows with their version of the Muppet Show Theme Song.  It also helps the collection that many of the songs the covers are based on are magical, lightning in a bottle, like Rainbow Connection and Bein' Green.

However, there is a more recent travesty.  I'll get to it shortly.

A while back I found an album of U2 covers by various contemporary Christian artists, while looking for a cover version of All I Want is You.  Intrigued, and suffering my usual malady of not acting upon my better judgement, I bought it.  My word, was it ever horrid.  Highlights were sparse, with the best track, Leigh Nash's cover of Love Is Blindness, still far short of the original.  Why bother? A dishonourable mention must surely go to Todd Agnew, who decided that the words to When Love Comes To Town were too much for his delicate sensibilities and changed them.  It's one thing to ape someone else's art but it's another entirely to arrogantly decide that your lyrics for their song are better than the ones originally written.  Especially since you have the option not to participate, or, I don't know, maybe CHOOSE ANOTHER DAMNED SONG?

Other than young Todd, who is frankly without excuse, there is a fairly good reason why U2 covers don't particularly work well, regardless of the performer of the cover version; as a band, they have a unique sound and a very particular dynamic that belies their seemingly simple makeup as a quartet.  The story goes that when they first came together, their dynamic was informed by their relative lack of skill as musicians.  Deft musicianship was not a necessity for popularity in the punk bands that were an influence to a young U2.  This dynamic developed and matured into a sonic landscape that is deceptively difficult to replicate.

U2 has not enjoyed much success of their own when covering others: The Beatles' Happiness as a Warm Gun was a misstep; Unchained Melody (itself coved more than five hundred times, but made famous by The Righteous Brothers) is awkward; John Lennon's Instant Karma is dull.  Whether U2 is also falling victim to the curse of the cover or are simply that the aforementioned dynamic is not allowing them to translate to music they have not themselves created is hard to say.

Which brings us to the most recent purchase, the travesty in question.  It was another U2 covers album, oh-so-cleverly titled Ǎhk-to͝ong Bāy-bi Covered, relatively inexpensive, celebrating the twentieth anniversary of their supposedly seminal release, Achtung Baby (1991).  Maybe the fact that proceeds of all sales were to go to charity** blinded me from the fact that, in my opinion, Achtung Baby was not all that good.  Surely the foundation towards a good cover is a having good song to start with, and good songs are sadly thin on the ground in Achtung.  But alas, there I was, feverishly purchasing and downloading the album, looking forward to my first listen through.  Face-palms quickly followed as my folly was realised.  The best track is probably Damien Rice's rendition of One, lent a grace and respect that pays a largely misunderstood song*** its dues.  My favourite track closes out the album: Jack White attacks Love Is Blindness like it insulted his mother.  If Bono had a grave, he'd be turning in it, with Leigh Nash weeping sweetly above him.

Let's face it.  I've been sucked in by that most vile of beasts, the covers album.  It seems I haven’t learned my lesson, so it’s entirely likely I'll be sucked in again.  Perhaps it's the chance of uncovering a gem the way an archaeologist uncovers a fossil.  Perhaps it's the envy of those who get to reinterpret classic songs.  Perhaps it's my inner busker, remembering that the cover is a gift that all of us can re-gift, again and again and again until some poor schlub tosses us a dollar.

* Thanks for that, Amiel.  Damned near killed one of my all-time favourite songs there.

** Of course, there are certain ethical considerations for the cover artist - the question of how to justify making money from something someone else has written, with Kylie Minogue’s Locomotion a good example.  The tribute album, with proceeds to charity, seems to go some way towards negating those issues.

*** Those who think One is a love ballad clearly haven't paid the lyrics a great deal of attention.  I've heard of couples inexplicably using the song as part of wedding ceremonies.

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On DMK-02

A few months ago, a long-awaited package was delivered from Hong Kong, containing several new additions to the ever-expanding collection of Transformers.  Perhaps one of the package's best prizes was Takara Tomy's Dual Model Kit Bumblebee, or DMK-02.  As much as it begged me to be built immediately, other priorities held sway for a number of weeks. 

When I did get to it, the model took a few weeks, a little bit at a time.  I regret not keeping a record of the exact time I took.  What I did do, however, was take a photographic record of the steps towards completion.

A short bit of background: I dabbled with model building as a boy, Airfix planes and the like.  A few years ago, when my burgeoning Transformers collection was regenerating an interest beyond what I could simply purchase, I tried my hand at reprinting a few.  This developed into minor kit bashing, and I have several projects on the go at present.  I have modest talents at best.  The upshot of this is that if I can make a go of this model, and achieve a degree of success, anyone can.  I offer what follows as a visual and instruction guide that may be useful to others who are wanting to attempt this model, some details on the construction, techniques I used, trouble-shooting and tips.

Three important points to note: 

1. The entire kit can be constructed without glue (although I did use some in a few spots - more on that later)
2. You can do the whole thing without adding any paint apps (although I did - again, more on that later)
3. The instructions are entirely in a language with which I am not familiar (I have been told it is Japanese, although I'm not absolutely certain).  This last point need not scare off potential model builders; the pictorial portion of the instructions is really quite clear and easy to follow, even for virtual neophytes like me.

 
This shows the entire kit, laid out.  There are 10 regular frames of pieces (6 grey/brown, 4 yellow, marked A-J), as well as 1 frame containing the soft rubber tires (marked K), 1 frame of clear plastic (marked L), and 1 frame of silver/grey slightly softer, malleable plastic (for joints and the like, marked PC).  Some of the pieces are pre-coloured with tints or paint apps.  

There is also a headless exoskeleton which forms the basic frame of the figure.  It ends just below the knees and elbows. Even by itself, it has a remarkable amount of articulation.  It can be taken apart and reassembled quite easily.


(The picture I've taken here not the frame in its untouched state - I'd already dry-brushed it at this stage - see below for details)

One issue I did have with the basic frame is one of the elbow joints was not quite as "together" as it could have been.  This particular joint is not able to be taken apart, and it resisted attempts to squeeze it together.  Thankfully, the model's movement was not at all impaired, it didn't affect the construction or attachment of other pieces and it is not particularly noticeable.

Personally, I didn't like the look of the grey, slightly brownish base colour of the basic model and the non-yellow pieces.  The model and the pieces are extremely well detailed, and I wanted to bring out that detail, so I decided on dry-brushing.  I used an initial base coat of Citadel Chaos Black (acrylic, matte), with a top coat with a virtually dry brush of Citadel Boltgun Metal.  The biggest problem I have with dry-brushing is that some of my early attempts looked like dry-brushing, so I used a slightly darker grey/silver as the top coat (instead of, say, Citadel Chainmail) and kept it as even and smooth as possible.

I've tried Tamiya acrylics metallic-type colours for dry brushing but didn't really like the results.  I've found they have a certain quality that makes them not transfer cleanly from a dry brush.

This is the exoskeleton, with the constructed head and the initial pieces of armour and robot pieces applied (steps 1-2 on the instruction sheet). 

On this picture, I've outlined most of the many points of articulation.

The rear of the figure.  As you can see, the dry-brushing has brought out a good deal of the detail.  You'll also notice on this picture and the next few, some paint apps that I've judiciously added.

The paints I used were again Citadel acrylics, Sunburnished Gold, Blood Red, and Regal Blue.

See that gold-painted piece at the top of the upper leg? I applied a bit too much pressure on one and it snapped off...

This picture shows the breakage.  A touch of glue was enough to secure it back again without effecting the figure all that much, as you'll see a bit further down.  

You'll also notice some paint apps that appear on the model out of the box, but I reprinted them to add depth of colour and definition that was a little lacking.  I used Citadel Red Gore and Gloss Varnish.

Another hint on the painting - because some of the pieces are extremely small, I did all the base coats and dry brushing while the pieces were still attached to the frame stems.  When I cut them away with a scalpel, they just needed a small touch up.  While we're talking about the frames stems, don't twist the pieces off unless you want ugly ragged bits of plastic hanging off the model.

Here's a close up of the head:

Most pieces fit together quite snuggly, however the piece at the front of the neck (E10) tended to fall off a few times during the building process.  Since completion of the model, it hasn't given much strife, but I think I may glue it in if it falls out again.

And here are some more shots of the legs, following completion of steps 3-5 in the instructions.  I used Tamiya Chrome Silver for the wheel rims and discs, for a nice contrast.   

A word of warning though; it is difficult with this particular paint to get the silver-type effect without a thicker layer of paint.  Several thin coats don't seem to work very well.  Make sure you give the paint plenty of time to dry and harden before using the piece.

Then there are the hands.  Essentially, you have 3 options.  The model comes with open hands (both sides), closed fists (both sides), or a gun/weapon (right side only).  Unlike DMK-01 Optimus Prime, there is no finger articulation.  The hands can be switched easily.  The gun replaces not just the right hand, but entire forearm, and it tipped with a clear piece, which is tinted blue instead of a more movie-accurate orange.  It's a minor quibble.

Due to their size, some pieces are quite fragile, as can be seen here.  The small tab here resisted my attempts to insert it into the appropriate hole, perhaps due to the layer of paint. The easiest solution was to snap it off cleanly and glue the piece on, which worked just fine, as it is not needed for any articulation.

Lastly, there is Bumblebee's yellow outer armour that would form the shell of his alt mode.  A few pieces needed extra paint apps - I took pictures half way through the process to show the difference the extra paint made.

Pictured here is the shoulder armour, which didn't quite sit flush together and seems a little cumbersome when the model is being posed.  

Piece number E18 was also painted with the Tamiya Chrome Silver.

The model does have a faint pre-printed 'number plate' on the abdomen of the model.  As I had painted over it, I used a sticker from Reprolabels.com, from the '09 Camaro Bumblebee set, which was a nice fit, as well as being more movie accurate.

I also highlighted the car brand emblem.

The rear of the model, showing the bit that I fixed, which is also covered by the leg armour I added paint apps to.

For those interested in scale, here's a comparison with an 2009 deluxe class Bumblebee.

In conclusion, I absolutely love this model.  It is brilliantly detailed and posable. A welcome addition to my collection, and in my opinion, well worth the money it cost.

All I have to do now is find the time for DMK-01, which is currently calling out to me from its box...  I can't wait to get stuck into it.

On What A Nurse Is Worth

“I was talking to the man, he said we’re gonna make a deal

I was fooled into thinking the paper in my pocket was real

I said ‘No, no, you’ve been taken again

No, no, you’re losing all your friends

No, no, it’s just a matter of sense

It’s just a matter of sense’ ”

~ ‘Used and Abused’, by Rob Hirst and Jim Moginie

from the self titled album by Midnight Oil, 1978

Last week I wrote about some of the amusing characters I’ve encountered and experiences I've had in nursing.  It was fun to reminisce, even without going into the reasons why I love my job and what I do.  But today, nursing has me bummed.

It all started on a sunny Saturday morning.  I trundled out the front door in search of the morning paper delivery, wondering once again how on Earth the two sections of the paper managed to find their way to such disparate places of the yard.  In an act that has become largely ceremonial due to my increasing lack of sit-down-and-read-the-weekend-paper time, I unwrapped them from their weather-proof plastic.  A headline caught my eye.  It was an article* with the unwelcome news (to me anyway) that the Liberal State Government here in Victoria has decided that the best way to enter into the pay and conditions negotiations with the state's nurses is to do so with an axe behind its metaphorical back, ready to plunge square into the knees of nurses the first chance it gets.

While this kind of behaviour is not at all unexpected by the Liberal Party, it is also true that previous Labor State Governments are guilty of their own dirty pool when it comes to these kind of negotiations.  There's a degree of political expediency at work, with budgets being squeezed everywhere we look, from governments to businesses large and small.  That being said, the degree of contempt here is staggering.  The duplicity of the government’s argument is pathetic.  If it were really so concerned about the workload of nurses, it could easily employ the planned ‘health assistants’ to bolster the current workforce, rather than use them to replace nurses.  

Our brothers and sisters in the teaching fraternity have been equally screwed over, with Ted Baillieu's Libs backing away from their own pre-election promise to make Victorian teachers the best paid in the country like it was an angry Ebola monkey.**  One also wonders if the 4.7 percent yearly increase the Police Union was successful in securing their members last month was tied up in political issues surrounding the Office of Police Integrity's recent revelations.  It appears that one of state Nationals leader, Deputy Premier and Police Minister Peter Ryan's senior advisors was instrumental in the white-anting and eventual removal of Simon Overland as Police Commissioner in June this year.***  Mr Ryan has since saved his political hide by adopting the ‘Sergeant Schultz defense’ with echoes of “I know nothing!” ringing out from parliament in the wake of the damning disclosures.

Wednesday's news**** really turned my bad feeling into stomach-churning bitterness.  It turns out that the Liberals are behind a series of memos that instruct hospital managers how to lock nurses out of their own workplaces and to employ strike-breaking workers in the event of industrial action.  Are nurses so evil that they have earned such base treatment?  So wicked that preemptive aggression is deemed an appropriate course of action before even the first sod of negotiation is turned?  The State Government's attitude towards hard working nurses who form the bulk of the human face of the health care industry has been callous and despicable.

It is my strongly held opinion that nursing, like teaching, is drastically under-appreciated by many.  Politics being what it is, there are some issues that just don't have the gut-punch that other issues enjoy.  Either they lack the appropriate head-turning glamour that spruces up a political promise, or there are simply no votes to be found in them.  It takes a strong political will to base a platform on these types of issues and it seems that very few of our current pollies have the intestinal fortitude to get behind issues like increasing nurses’ pay and conditions to something vaguely resembling generosity.  They appear far too busy making sure they are availing themselves of the next flattering photo opportunity or bitterly slagging off at their rivals in the popular media, one eye always fixed on the next reelection campaign.

The majority of those who require nursing services are the weak and vulnerable, cruelled by illness or the frailty of age and disability.  A large portion of a nurse's role is to advocate for those who are unable to advocate for themselves.  As such, those we service (and their families, by association) are rarely in a position to argue our case for us.  It's also a sad and long held fact women do not enjoy the higher wages that men in similarly responsible positions do, and as nursing has traditionally been a female dominated industry, it has historically been lower-paying than it deserves to be.  All these factors demand that those making decisions about nurses’ recompense stand up and act with some decency.  In this respect, Premier Baillieu and Health Minister David Davis have shown all the moral high-standing of an alley cat on heat.  Where we would wish for leadership from those in power, we are met with limp-wristed cowardice and cold-hearted arrogance.

Over the last fourteen years I've cared for the infirm.  I've met people's basic human needs.  I've treated horrible illnesses.  I’ve helped countless people with their own personal hygiene.  I’ve dispensed incalculable amounts of medicines.  I've dressed infected and malodourous wounds.  I've protected the dignity of those who've found themselves without it.  I've introduced myself repeatedly to poor demented souls who don't remember my name no matter how many times I've cared for them.  I've brought comfort to those in the final hours of their lives.  I've cleaned their bodies after their deaths in the last act of kindness I can afford them, and consoled those left behind.  I've been abused when people lash out in frustration at the time of their weakness, and showed them as much patience and grace and care as I can muster.  I’ve worked through numerous family birthdays, Christmases, Easters and New Year’s Days.  I've been ignored and unappreciated by those whose wellbeing is in my hands.  I've worked at one of those rare professions that can have an actual body count at the end of a bad day at the office.  And I've loved it all dearly.

But... but...

I'm disillusioned.  I have little desire to continue to work for those that would treat me and my nursing brethren with disdain.  I’m sick to death of feeling undervalued, as if it wasn't bad enough that nurses are constantly asked to do more with resources that are not on par with the importance of the work.  The current State Government clearly hold what I do in such low standing that they feel it right and good and fair to behave the way they have been.  Next time you have a long wait at an emergency department, or your surgery gets delayed, or the nurse on the ward doesn’t answer the buzzer quickly, or the nurse visiting you at home is running late, I want you to remember the hundreds of highly skilled, highly qualified, caring nurses out there who are no longer nursing because their goodwill has been squandered one too many times.  I know there is only so much of this I think I can take before that disillusionment becomes more than I can bear.

* The article in question can be found at: http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/revealed-secret-plan-to-cut-nurse-numbers-20111105-1n1f9.html

** Credit where credit is due:  “angry Ebola monkey” is a glorious phrase I have commandeered from the cinefile/reviewer Massawyrm, from AintItCool.com.

***  More information on this can be found at: http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/lied-leaked-and-abused-power-explosive-opi-report-claims-scalps-20111027-1mkyt.html

**** The article can be found at:  http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/nurses-lockout-plans-exposed-20111108-1n5mh.html

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On Nursing Stories

“And we all need a medicine man

All need a medicine man

Don’t we need a medicine man

His shaker and his rattle and his helping hand”

~ ‘Medicine Man’, by Bernie Taupin

from the B-side of the Elton John single “You Gotta Love Someone”, 1990

There’s an email that’s done the rounds of my inbox a few dozen times, mostly sent from nursing colleagues who found it worthy distraction.  It is a list with the heading “You know you’re a nurse when…” and it’s pretty amusing.  One item in particular refers to a nurse’s ability to discuss the most gruesome of tales in polite company, even over a meal, without feeling the disgust it evokes in others.  I’ve worked as a nurse for fourteen-odd years* now, so I’ve managed to have a few experiences of my own.  And now I’m sharing, in polite company.  Perhaps it’s best you don’t read while eating.

(My editor - bless her cotton socks because she is wonderful - has suggested a much stronger warning here.  Some of what you are about to read is “truly gross and disgusting”.)

Very early on in my career, I was working an afternoon/evening shift.  One of the first duties that required my attention was a round of observations on the patients I was caring for that day.  I wandered into each room, introduced myself and went about measuring their blood pressures, pulse rates, temperatures and suchlike.  The first patient had an elevated temperature.  I made a mental note to advise the doctor on duty.  The second patient, in the same room as the first, also had an elevated temperature.  Hopefully, I thought, they weren’t sharing a common bug.

Brow appropriately furrowed, I kept on with my rounds.  Third patient - another rip-roaring temperature.  Fourth and fifth as well.  Panic rising, I figured the only sane, reasoned and logical explanation was that we had an epidemic of goodness-knows-what and that the relevant authorities were surely going to quarantine the ward lest we spread whatever lethal virulence I had uncovered.

Turns out every patient whose temperature I took (via an oral thermometer), had just had a nice mouthful of tea or coffee.  I was following the tea lady handing out afternoon refreshments.  Disaster was averted.

I don’t seem to have a particularly acute sense of smell.  I think part of that is a nurse’s innate defense mechanism.  That being said, the worst thing I have ever smelled would have to be a gangrenous limb on an elderly diabetic woman who had undergone a series of amputations, as well as a barrage of intravenous antibiotics.  Sadly, it was to no avail.  She quickly became septic and died within a few short days.  I nursed her near the end of her life, and it was a constant struggle to manage her pain, while keeping her clean (the antibiotics had rendered her bowel motions green, liquid and uncontrollable), as well as carefully tending her newly formed above-knee stump.  The gangrene caused the flesh of her stump to turn an inhuman grey and literally rot through the sutures holding it together.  The stench was nearly overwhelming, like raw meat left in the sun too long.  

I should point out that it was only the smell that I am comparing to meat.  I can still see that lady’s face, especially her eyes.  That image seared into my consciousness, serves as a reminder that I am looking after people, not just bodies.  I hope that I was able to contribute to her dignity and comfort in that time.

Life on the ward was not all serious.  Collecting various specimens for testing was frequently an interesting process, especially when those specimens were the various waste products that the body produces.  One lady in particular that I remember, needed to have a urine sample collected.  I knew that this would be difficult due to poor bladder control and troublesome mobility issues.  I explained what I needed, and the next time she felt the urge to urinate, I quickly placed a specimen cup inside a bedpan, which slid into a frame underneath a mobile commode.  I assisted the lady onto the commode and wheeled her into the bathroom for privacy, figuring if the cup was reasonably central, I might manage to catch at least something that was able to be tested.

The buzzer from the bathroom indicated she was all done.  As I was wheeling my patient back to her room , she sheepishly admitted that she had moved her bowels, likely making any urine sample unusable, not to mention giving me a job to clean up.  I reassured her, reminding her that there was always next time.

When the lady was back in her bed, I retrieved the bed pan from the underside of the commode, and found myself fighting back hysterical laughter. My patient had done by accident what was surely impossible to do on purpose: not a single scrap of the faeces was in the pan - it was all perfectly swirled in the specimen cup, sitting proudly in the centre of the pan like a befouled Mr Whippy cone.  I shared with my fellow nurses, who were impressed and amused in equal measure.

A colleague shared a story with me about a patient she visited at home.  The patient in question was enjoying a cup of tea when the nurse noticed an object inside the cup.  Inquiries were made and the patient fished a bottle of nail polish out of the cup, stating that the lid was stuck and she was hoping the tea would warm the bottle, making it easy to open.  She then sucked the tea off the outside of the nail polish bottle and offered it to the nurse with an encouragement to give the lid a go.

I had a story to top that though.  I once offered to clean a patient’s dentures after a meal.  She pulled the dentures out, examined them and proceeded to lick the encrusted food off them before giving them over.  Now, I’ve got a strong constitution, but even this memory has me gagging on the recount.

There are more anecdotes, and no doubt any nurse with a long enough career has a collection of amusing stories of their very own.  Perhaps, if I hear a few more in coming weeks, I’ll share them in kind.  Just don’t read them over dinner.

*in case you were wondering, the term “14-odd years” works in both senses.

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