So I am at work the other day, saving lives and stamping out disease as usual, and I have a particularly - um - insistant - patient who thinks every thing is absolutely critical and can only be handled by a nurse. I am trying to cut the guy some slack; he's had major surgery and maybe he's a little scared. So although I am responsive to his needs ("more water, more ice, another pillow, close the curtain," etc.) by the 11th hour, literally, it's getting a little old.

The call light goes on AGAIN.

"I need to see my nurse right away"

"What did you need, sir?" The unit secretary is ever sweet, ever patient.

"My nurse!"

"What did you need so she can better assist you when she comes to your room?"

"I told you, my nurse! I need my nurse! I need her!"

Thinking he was in distress, I stop everything and hightail it down to his room.

"Yes, Mr. ___. What did you need?"

"Hold on." He is writing furiously on a piece of paper. I sigh inwardly. He keeps writing. I sigh outwardly. "Mr. ___, I thought this was an emergency."

"This is. This is very important." He handed me a note. I think - briefly - it's a note of thanks, but stop myself. This is county, after all.

The notes says "I do not like tuna. Please do not place tuna on my tray. I like chicken. Dark meat, well done only, and BBQ flavored. But no tuna."

Since God blessed me with a warped sense of humor, I simply replied "Well, this is the Hospital, not the Hilton, but I will see what I can do. Please don't forget to tip your waitress at the end of her shift."

Thankfully I am off for the next two days...