Over the past few nights — very late — someone for whom English is obviously not a primary language has been leaving nearly incomprehensible messages on our answering machine. Being the light sleeper that she is the wife has been the one to suffer from these repeated calls — he will call several times before finally leaving his message. I, a very sound sleeper, continue to snore straight through these intrusions.

I don’t have any idea from whereabouts he is placing these calls as the number is listed as private on the caller ID. All I know is that he would like to kiss someone or something and he “like you sex.” Want to listen? I’ve embedded the first, and funniest, of the messages below.

On my way down Broad Street after picking up a few crafty supplies I saw a sign at Taboo, our adult purveyor of choice, that made me chuckle. They have a sign out front — the standard white plastic one you might see in front of a car dealership or the like — on which they post witty double entendrés. This months is holiday themed:

WE HAVE PIE FILLINGS

If you don’t get it, ask your mom.

Driving up SC 7 this afternoon I happened to follow a large white SUV with a bumper sticker on the left hand side of the vehicle that said:

All fisherman are liars, except you and me, and I’m not so sure about you.

And on the right side of the bumper? Jesus fish.

I work in the laboratory of a hospital. You know when you get some blood drawn or have to pee into a cup? Yeah, we get those fluids (among other things that can come out of a human being). Certain values are considered “critical” because left untreated they can cause any number of undesirable outcomes. In my particular section of microbiology those values are typically positive blood cultures and the occasional positive gram stain on sterile body fluids and tissues. These results, being critical, must be given to a caregiver, i.e. nurse, as soon as they are detected.

This past Thursday I had such a result. A blood culture had been flagged as positive by our instrument. When checking for bactermia a set amount of blood is withdrawn and placed in a bottle, which is then loaded into an instrument that maintains a constant temperature and agitation. As bacteria grow they produce CO₂ producing a color change in a disc at the bottom of the bottle which is read by our machine. So, depending on the organism and its rate of growth this can happen at nearly any time, but averages out to be 18-24 hours after loading most often.

I, having removed the offending bottle from the machine and done the necessary work up, check the computer to see the patient’s current location so I might call and deliver the results of my gram stain. I see that this particular culture was collected at an affiliated hospital’s ER and said patient has since been discharged. More hospital computer system jiggery-pokery is ordered, and I find that he has apparently been admitted to one of our floors. I locate the phone number and call that nursing station.

Note, I know the score. In accordance with HIPAA I’ve altered this patient’s name sufficiently to protect his privacy without significantly affecting my story. While I was at it, I also made up fake names for the nurses I spoke to as well.

Floor: 10 West, this is Williams.

Your’s Truly: Hello, this is Benjamin from the microbiology lab. I’ve a positive blood culture report on a patient I have reason to believe was transferred from the ER. I’m not sure if I’m pronouncing this correctly, but do you have a Mister “CHAY-bon” there?

Floor: No, we don’t have anyone by that name.

YT: Are you certain? Because the computer seems to indicate that. . .

Floor: Nope, no one by that name here.

YT: Okay, thanks.

Certain that I had the correct floor, I call the department that manages the patient’s in house and discharged. They know if a patient has been transferred, discharged, or admitted. I give the lady working there some information and she tells me that this patient is, in fact, on 10 West. She even gives me a room number. Armed with this information I call the floor back.

Floor: 10 West, this is Williams.

Your’s Truly: Hello, this is Benjamin from microbiology again. I just spoke with bed management and they seem to think that the patient I just called about is on that floor. I’ve been told he’s in room 21.

Floor: Oh, you mean “SHAH-bon.” I’ll transfer you to his nurse.

YT: . . .

Nurse: Yeah?

YT: Hello, this is Benjamin from microbiology. Are you taking care of Mr. “SHAH-bon?”

Nurse: You mean “CHAY-bon.”

YT: . . .