Who Got the Funk?

We got the funk.

All of it. Right here. At University Hospital.

I have worked at many hospitals in my long and storied life, but none quite as funky as University. Specifically, funky smelling. Brooke smells like molded plastic and Wilford smells sometimes a little moldy, but University smells like sweat, pee, sweaty pee, and a hundred other things. I am not sure if this is a county hospital thing or just a San Antonio thing, but I have smelt some pretty unspeakable smells. With the construction taking place immediately adjacent to our team room the scents have been accented recently by what I can only guess are the odors of latex paint and rubber cement which transitions to maple syrup if you huff enough of it. If trends continue I may turn to adorning all my patients with pine scented car fresheners, spraying them down with Lysol spray prior to interviews, spraying myself down with Lysol spray prior to interviews, or just sticking coal briquettes up my nose. Regardless of the solution, this funk cannot go on forever or I will not go on forever. It's just too funky.

Thankfully, the Vistana currently smells like San Clemente. I am grateful for flowering Jasmine.

The Great Pee Pee Mystery

Today, from roughly 1100 to 1700, I waited for an old man to pee so that I may take it and look at it under a microscope. Around 1715 I was given word that the long awaited urination had taken place. Briefly taking care of other urgent matters, I attended to my wee sometime around 1745 only to find it was nowhere to be found. Some masked stranger had run off with my urine. I asked the nurse, she didn't know. I asked the patient, he said "a doc" took it. I asked my interns, they were clueless. Somebody, for whatever clearly no good reason, had absconded with my wiz. I was upset. Although few will every appreciate this, there are few things more frustrating then waiting an entire day for urine only to have it disappear. Nevertheless it seems to be the running average for Williford Hall these days. Most labs get sucked up by gremlins in the vacuum tubes, most daily radiographs become every other day radiographs by the x-ray tech fairy, and half of our electrolyte panels seem as if the masked stranger himself is urinating in them yielding the wildest most ridiculous and inaccurate of results. Wilford Hall, you're too much for me. I don't know what to do with you.

Someone will pay dearly for the pee, though. Someday I will have my revenge.