General Hospital, Behind the Scenes

     This morning, Edward, that run in my stocking sweet husband of mine, accused me of being overly acerbic.  Somehow, that characterization reminded me of an incident several years ago when he was recovering from outpatient sinus surgery.
      I arrived at his hospital room, where he was recovering. I found him in one of two beds, his nose completely bandaged and bloodied but no longer woozy from the anesthesia.  All I needed to do was gather up his few belongings, get him dressed and drag him to the car.  Edward wanted to do the gathering and dressing on his own, and he retired to the bathroom.  As it turned out, this procedure took as long as a 15-year-old girl preparing for her first date when she can't find the right outfit in her closet.
      So, I laid down in Edward's hospital bed and hung out.  Meanwhile, a nice looking, thin, middle-aged  man arrived rolling a suitcase behind him to occupy the second bed in the room.  He was apparently going to have a test involving his eyes that required him to stay overnight. 
      Shortly after his arrival, a nurse came in and drew the curtain that separated his bed from the one I was lying on, and started asking many questions.  They began with his full name, date of birth and social security number and progressed to increasingly more intimate details. I couldn't believe that I was privy to all this information and I became uncomfortable.  How do I handle discomfort?  I use humor that can be somewhat acerbic.  So when the nurse asked this guy whether he had used illicit drugs, and he answered no, I called out quite loudly from behind the curtain, "Well, that's not what I hear on the street."
      There was a long pause.  None of us said a word.  Then, the nurse continued with the questions as if nothing had happened, and the guy seemed ok answering them.  Edward finally emerged from the bathroom and off we went.
     Really, Edward, the world can handle me.