Emergency service workers. When have you laughed when you really shouldn't have?

I used to work in an adult and pediatric emergency department as a scribe. I followed a doctor,

N.P, or a PA and wrote their charts. One time a patient came in for downstairs injury to her girl bits.

So the PA I was assigned to, who's my father's age, says, ah, that'll be interesting,

and we go in. The lady is very friendly, bubbly, overweight, with long, fake nails. He asks her what

brings her to the ED, and she says, well, you see, I just got my nails done, and I was having fun,

and really going to town down there, and it felt really good, and I scratched my

hoo-ha. She laughed awkwardly, and I couldn't handle myself and had to leave. The PA kept himself

together and told the patient I left because my job was over, as I wrote down her complaint.

But honestly, I was crying in the hallway with another tech who overheard. The door was shut,

but she was loud and

proud and the unit was quiet. I scratched my hoo-ha, became a response to what's up at my hospital

for a bit. During my EMT basic clinical rotations, my buddy Greg and I are working in an emergency

room trying to do as many ECGs as possible, so that we could check

that off our list of clinical skills that we needed to do. Greg is hooking up an absolutely

enormous woman to ECG leads. To accomplish this, he indicates to her that he'll have to move her

left melon to gain access to her chest war. I'm not exaggerating when I say that she weighed 400 pounds.

One of her heaping bosoms probably weighed a solid 40 pounds by itself. So Greg, using the back

of his forearm, is pushing aside her left chest. Or trying to, and failing. So he's basically

rubbing her left chesticle with his forearm, trying to get it out

the way. His face, meanwhile, is about 12 inches from her face. She leans closer to Greg, moans,

and says, Oh, you like that, don't you? And I have to leave. I admitted a patient to a surgical

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