You can't make this up

I met two new species of the human race whom I had not been privileged to meet until this week. Monday morning at 8 a.m., I had my hands down the backside of an old lady's one-piece Lycra bodysuit. Truly one of the most evil things ever invented, after several minutes I finally got the electrodes down to her lower back and ginormous butt. She then confessed to me, because everyone says weird and socially inappropriate things to me while I'm enclosed in a small room with them, that she hasn't bought panties OR bras in years. WHAT? And as if I wasn't weirded out enough at this point she turns and looks straight at my chest and says, "You're about a C or D right? You could get one too!" Thanks lady. I am horrified by you.


Door #2 was a patient we entered into the Patient Hall of Shame after 2 visits. She's a sweet gal but defines "rough around the edges". She's probably killed a trucker or two in her day. She is a bigger girl, close to 6 ft., well over 250 lbs.. She likes to wear spaghetti strap tank tops and daisy duke shorts with her back brace that disappears somewhere between the tank top and the shorts when she's sitting, then magically reappears when she stands. She believes her teeny tank tops are plenty of support for her proportionate boobs, which in case you miss them, are highlighted by 2 giant tattoos. On her back are 2 more giant tattoos done so that it looks like the ones in the front seeped right on through to the back. This week she came in with 4 of the biggest hickies I have ever seen on her neck ,wearing them proudly like Olympic medals. I of course didn't ask which made her want to tell me even more, "Well, I might be disabled but I'm still getting something done!"