I will gladly clean any number of wounds or messes regardless of how long it takes to do so and regardless of how disgusting it smells. It is my job to do so, and it needs to be done. I will not beg you to let me do it. If you are a grown ass adult of sound mind who chooses to not only do nothing for yourself, but wants to scream and complain when I attempt to remedy the situation of you sitting in your own filth because I'm bothering you? Let me stop bothering you. As an adult, you surely understand why dirty ass wounds are problematic. I have other people to take care of that actually want my help, and therefore I don't have time to argue with you about it. Let me just chart that you refused the care I offered you and you can call me when you decide to stop being disgusting and I'll help you. Okay, great.
I will work you up for your intermittent mysterious vaginal bleeding that you've had for two weeks. Sorry you decided during the busiest day of the year that this was now an emergency, but your labs are all back right now, your blood counts are fine, and you're officially not dying, so it's time to take your Flagyl and follow up with a GYN. I cannot magically stop your vaginal bleeding with a pill of some kind or space age laser technology, and I will not tolerate you standing in the staff area yelling obscenities at everyone because you want your f-ing period to stop and we didn't do f-ing shit for you and we just wasted your f-ing time. You're totally discharged. Hi, security?
I will take care of your drunk ass in a kind and gentle manner despite the fact that you have no problems we can help you with here in the ER. You play nice and take your fluid bolus and your warm blankets, I'll turn the light off and you can have a nap and you and me are going to be good friends. We will not be friends if you start cutting up and trying to pull your IV out and threatening suicide and screaming at everyone because now mommy's here and she's mad at you for being a drunk idiot instead of giving you the sympathy you think you deserve. No, I do not have time for you to pull me into your mommy drama, and I will not sit outside the room and therapeutically try to convince you to calm down and stay. If you want to try to manipulate your mom in my earshot by threatening suicide, fine, but you will find your ass in a safe room with a the po-po standing by and mommy out in the waiting room away from your drama before you can say "Haldol". There are literally dying people here today. Act out your Dr. Phil "mommy loved me too much or not enough" bullshit on your own time.
And ultimately these are the people that are going to be determining whether my service was good enough for the hospital to get paid? Why did I stop waiting tables again?