And now, a "Did you really just ask me that?" nursing story

As I was getting ready to leave the hospital Monday morning after a fairly grueling weekend, I was making my rounds, clearing out IV pumps, wishing my patients well, and seeing who wanted to be doped up one more time before day shift came on.

One of my patient's had a husband who was, shall we say, on the simple side. Red muscle shirt, unkempt facial hair, a bicep tattoo of a big bald eagle, trucker cap with a rebel flag on it, avid watcher of Ultimate Fighting Championship (which I gathered from the violent fist-pumping behavior he displayed while watching said fighting on TV as I was trying to get a history from my patient). This sounds like a caricature, but this is a real person.

Making my way out of the room, I say to the patient, "Your nurse today will be Samantha. She'll take good care of you, blah blah blah." The husband looks at me at whispers, "Is she white or black?" I said, "I don't see what possible difference that makes." Then he got all defensive and started faux-laughing, "Hey I didn't mean anything by it! Wow you really got a problem with that don't you? I was just wanting to know if she was black or white." To which I said, with a forced smile, "I guess you'll find out soon enough."

Then I sincerely wished the patient good luck, as she was one of the sicker patients on our floor, and skeedaddled.

I'm sure I'll get a negative customer service complaint on a stupid Press Gainey evaluation, but I don't care. I refuse to answer stupid questions fully loaded with racism. Don't care how simple ya are, don't care if that's all you've ever known, don't care if you've never been shown another way. I'm not telling you in advance what color your nurse's skin is so you can sit there and be satisfied or apprehensive, depending on who you're getting. Nope. Not playing.