This may be the first time I've ever written a song in honor of a patient.

To the tune of "Mister Sandman":

Mister Dickwad,

Please get well soon;

Can't wait to see a diff'rent face in your room.

You drove me crazy for thirty-six hours,

You pushed the limits of my nursing powers!

Dickwad, I'm at the end

Of any rope I had: I am not your friend.

Please, please get out of your behh-heeed,

Mister Dickwad, heal up your head!

(Backup singers: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck)

Mister Dickwad, please don't you say,

That sterile fields make no difference each way;

Please don't imply that my training ain't real

Get meningitis: we'll see how you feel!

Dickwad, I've had enough

Of condescension and of your acting tough,

Please, please get out of your bed:

Mister Dickwad, heal up your head!

(Backup singers: dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb...)

Mister Dickwad, can't you shut up?

I need some Scotch, yes, at least half a cup.

I'm tired of your ass-grabbing behavior

Your weakened state here will not be your savior!

Dickwad, when the cops find

Your charred remains, I will be on their mind.

But you know I'll be acquitted:

Mister Dickwad, you are half-witted!

Sadly, this particular patient was alert, oriented in all spheres, and totally intact. Also sadly, he was just a bit too big for me to strangle efficiently.

Sometimes I just want to go back to waiting tables.