I was scheduled to work evening shift on a floor where I didn't know the patients very well. I was told in report that "Mr. B," a fairly new admit to the long-care department of our facility, was very nice, but liked to flirt a bit with the female staff. "He's harmless," the other nurse told me. "But he's really hard to understand because of his stroke, and he gets frustrated sometimes."
As I started my med round, I noticed Mr. B sitting in a wheelchair in his doorway at the end of the hall. He smiled at me and waved, and I greeted him back. Then, in a loud voice, he called out, "Hey, honey! Are we having sex tonight?"
All conversation stopped in the hallway. A couple of visitors at the nurse's station and a tech were looking between Mr. B and me. Mr. B just sat there in his wheelchair, grinning. I felt my face flush as I locked my med cart and walked down the hallway to his room.
I put my hand on his shoulder. "Mr. B," I said quietly. "That was inappropriate, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say things like that again."
He looked up at me with a confused expression. "Huh?"
"What you just said to me. That's not appropriate."
Clearly flustered, he yelled, "What's wrong with having snacks?"
I just stated at him.
"SNACKS!" he repeated. "I asked if we're having snacks tonight! What in the blazes is wrong with that?"
Not a thing, Mr. B. Not a thing.
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