Golden Shower

Its Saturday night and I’m rolling around a urine slicked floor with a nurse.

I know what you’re thinking but please, get your filthy, perverted minds out of the deep dark gutter they’ve just fallen into. Its not what you think. But since I work part-time in a hospital where confidentiality rules are sacrosanct, that’s all the information I can give you. Rolling around a urine slicked floor with a nurse. Sorry, that’s all you’re getting.

“Goddamn it,” I say once the urinary escapades are over. “My clothes are soaked.”

“Mine too,” the nurse says, her voice trembling with disgust.

“What are we going to do?” I ask. “Work the rest of the shift in these clothes?”

“Go down to the ER,” the nurse says. “They’ll give you some surgical scrubs.”

“Good idea. What size you take?”


“I’ll be right back.”

I exit my unit and head down to the ER. Like most emergency rooms on a Saturday night, ours is packed. To avoid grossing out the civilians in the waiting room I slip in the back way. A nurse dressed in blue scrubs eyes me and starts laughing. You have to understand, I look and smell like I’ve peed in my pants.

“What happened to you?” she asks. I tell her.

“That happens,” the nurse acknowledges.

“I just don’t want you thinking I’m a forty year old man who pissed himself,” I reply.

“Don’t worry,” the nurse giggles. “I’ll never tell.”

“Where can I get some scrubs? I can’t stay in these clothes.”

“Ask the security guard to let you into the locker room,” the ER nurse says. “There’s some in there.”


I find the security guard in his office. He’s a big, big guy. I’m talking blocking out the sun big.

“What happened to you?” his says, his deep voice rumbling. I tell him.

“Shit,” he replies, laughing. “Some people have all the fun.”

“Thanks a lot. But after all that fun I need to get some scrubs for me and the nurse upstairs. Can you let me into the lockers?”

“No problem.”

The guard lets me into the male locker room. The place is a pigsty. The shelves where the scrubs are kept look like a sales display after a Black Friday seventy percent off sale. As I sort through the twisted pile I can only find extra large scrubs. While I can get away with wearing them, the nurse upstairs will look like she’s swimming inside a tent. With my luck, she’ll trip on the pant cuffs and fall on a needle filled with Thorazine. Not good.

“I need to find some small scrubs for the nurse upstairs,” I tell the guard. “Do you know where we can find any?”

“Central Supply,” he says. “But they’re closed for the day.”

“How about the female locker room?”

“We can’t go in there,” the big man says, suddenly looking nervous. “I’d have to get a woman to go inside.”

“Just knock on the door,” I say. “If anyone’s in there they’ll get them for us.”

“Hey,” a passing housekeeper says. “If you need to go into the girl’s locker room it’s empty.”

“You sure?” the guard asks.

“I’m sure,” the housekeeper says. “I just cleaned it.”

“Let’s go then,” I say.

We walk over to the ladies locker room and the guard knocks on the door. “Anybody in there?” he shouts. There’s no response.

“I’ll go in,” I say. “Guard the door.”

“Sure thing.”

I walk into the ladies locker room. “Man on the floor,” I shout. Still no response. I walk into the locker room, pass the showers, and find the scrubs closet. Unlike the the men’s locker room, the scrubs in the female locker room are nice and tidy. I look at the showers with an emotion akin to lust. Right now, as skeeved as I feel, a shower would be great right now. Suddenly the cinema of my mind conjures up a shower billowing with steam. Through the veil of moisture I can make out the shapely figure of a nurse covered in suds. Cue the saxophone music.

“Hey there,” the sultry, glistening woman asks. “Wanna come in and get clean?”

“Oh yes,” I reply, starting to tug off my clothes. “I’ve been a very dirty boy.”

“How dirty?” the nurse asks, moving an impossibly long leg along the edge of the shower stall. “Tell me.”


“HEY!” a deep masculine voice shouts. “You done in there?”

My little x-rated moment pops like a soap bubble. I never have any fun.

“Yes,” I tell the guard, “I’ve got what I need.” Well, almost.

“Let’s go then.”

Still stinking of pee, I run the scrubs upstairs. The urine soaked nurse and I clean up best we can and work the remainder of our shift wearing borrowed linen marked “Property of …… Not for Sale.”

At eleven o’clock the relief shift starts coming on duty. Caroline, one of the night nurses, pops her head in the door to the staff lounge.

“How was your shift?” she asks.

I finger the fabric of my hospital issued garb. “I’m wearing scrubs,” I reply. “What does that tell you?”

“That you had a bad shift.”


“What happened?” I tell her.

“Oh shit!” she says when I finish.

“I got my first golden shower,” I say. “Never thought it’d happen in a hospital.”

Caroline turns red and starts laughing. “You’re bad.”

“Now I can definitely say that water sports are not for me.”

“You live and learn.”

“Now I’m stuck wearing these things,” I say pulling on the oversized garment’s drawstring.

“You look cute in scrubs,” Caroline says.

“George Clooney, eat your heart out.”

“You know something?” Caroline says. “You really do look like a doctor in those things.”

“I think it’s the grey in my temples,” I say. “I look old enough to be out of residency.”

“You do.”

“I just hope I don’t run into a woman having a baby in the parking lot or something.”

“You’re too much,” Caroline says. “Go home and take a shower.”

“Free at last,” I say. “Thank God.”

I grab my coat, keys, and the plastic bag holding my urine soaked clothes and head for the door.

“Take it easy Steve,” Caroline calls out. “See you next time.”

“Can you guess what three words are in my head right now?” I ask.

“Fuck this place?”


“Now that sounds like a very good idea.”

“Caroline,“ I say. “I hope your shift runs smoother than mine.”

“Me too.”

“Bye Steve,” the nurse who participated in the urinary incident with me says. “Thanks for getting the scrubs for me.”

I place a hand on the nurse’s shoulder. “You know,” I say. “That was a first for me too.”

The nurse blushes and starts laughing. “Get out of here.”

I head home. Let me tell you – never has a shower felt so good.


Golden Shower — 43 Comments

  1. I agree Mac – even on my WORST day at work, I’m not in danger of getting peed on! Great story, Waiter. (we can still call you Waiter, right?) = )

  2. Hallo Waiter.

    Love the blog, good stuff as usual….you got a mistake btw right about “The nurse soaked nurse and I clean up best we can…” Love the blog. Keep it up.

  3. I work in a hospital, where I once sat in someone’s pee. I’ll never forget that creeping realization of why everything suddenly felt wet. YUCK! It still makes me shudder.

  4. I think I know a great place to have that fantasy finished. This Steam Shower would make for a great scene. It may get called a golden shower being that the thing looks like it is worth as much as gold.LOl:)

  5. Oh geez, reminds me of one of my first nursing home jobs I worked, I had my own urine soaked episode, the client who got to see the whole show couldn’t stop laughing, I wound up taking a shower at work. Hopefully you can avoid a repeat performance.

  6. Please pray for the staff at IHOPs everywhere tomorrow as it is National Pancake Day, i.e. free pancakes for everyone, all day.

  7. I remember as a young girl working a psyche ward as nurse’s aide and Grandpa came out peeing. I grabbed a garbage bag and encased the offending penis inside the bag. I was so glad he missed.

  8. I think you’re not actually beholden to such a strict interpretation of HIPPA, but are instead holding out on us in order to gather material for your third book, a compendium of real-life medical humor.

    (I had always thought that it was possible to say *what happened* as long as you didn’t identify anyone. For example, “We were removing a patient’s pants in order to perform a procedure, and the underclothes were… stuck. Once we managed to peel them off, the patient’s bladder released, covering us in urine.” Doesn’t even say male or female, much less any identifying characteristics.)

  9. i personally dont want more details than waiter got soaked in urine…that enough is descriptive enough for my brain to fill in the rest! and..i’m officially glad i didnt go to nursing school! *lol*

  10. The only part of that ‘story’ worth telling was the part you didn’t tell. This was a non-story. I agree, you’re holding out.

  11. not to keep rubbing it in but it’s spelled “johnnIE.” yeah, i drink a lot too. i agree with the first post; go out and treat yourself to a johnnie walker blue.

  12. My guess is someone got a little out of control with the cath-tube…. Just speculation but I don’t want to have my mind go any further than that.

  13. Would’ve been better if we would have known what ACTUALLY happened…since I haven’t (and have even less desire to now) work in a hospital, I have no clue how you got covered in piss. Sadly left out the most interesting part :(

    Did enjoy your steamy shower scene, though… ;)

  14. HAH. Reminds me of the time I was working as the Medical Director at a day camp (I’m an EMT) and I had to control a severe nosebleed on an autistic child who did not like to be touched. Wound up putting him in my lap and restraining him with a bear hug while I pinched his nose shut– and in his panic, he peed all over me. I walked into the Camp Director’s office looking and smelling for all the world like I’d just pissed myself, told her what happened, and asked if I could bathe in the camp pond. The story is now camp legend.

  15. Waiter,

    This post begs some questions: 1. Why don’t they make scrubs in yellow? 2. Why isn’t every hospital room equiped with a firehose to soak down the patients? 3. How did the shower get urine soaked in first place and why wasn’t housekeeping involved? 4. Ready to work in a restaurant again?

  16. This post begs some questions -MINUS 7000 FOR THE IMPROPER USE OF BEG THE QUESTION. “Begging the question” is a form of logical fallacy in which a statement or claim is assumed to be true without evidence other than the statement or claim itself. When one begs the question, the initial assumption of a statement is treated as already proven without any logic to show why the statement is true in the first place.” To beg the question does not mean “to raise the question.” (e.g. “It begs the question, why is he so dumb?”) This is a common error of usage made by those who mistake the word “question” in the phrase to refer to a literal question. Sadly, the error has grown more and more common with time, such that even journalists, advertisers, and major mass media entities have fallen prey to “BTQ Abuse.”

  17. Bill,

    Your post RAISES the question: How many points do I still have now that I’ve lost 7000? You must be grading on a scale that was not in use when I was in school.

    Sorry about the error, my grammar is usually better, but I’ve been reading the posts on the following link, and I guess they have me a bit off:

  18. Awesome!! I can only imagine what actually happened to you and the nurse. But if it’s supposed to be kept confidential then I totally understand. Great blog you have here Steve! Keep it up.

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