When I say, "Gone" . . .

So I'm here in the office on a Friday afternoon and everyone is gone. By "gone," I mean this place is a ghost town. There are a couple of support staff wandering around, but I think I could set fire to my office chair right now and no one would notice. So that means, it's a three post day! So here's a quick story to get your weekend started off right.

I went to Bethesda North this afternoon to do my hospital calls. I went into the room where this guy from church was supposed to be and saw an empty bed. It was a double room, so there was another person on the far side of the room behind the curtain. I knocked on the door and called out, "Mr Darby?" [not his real name], to see if it was him. A guy in his fifties peeked back through the curtain and responded, "No, he's gone." Knowing that Mr Darby's illness wasn't life-threatening I playfully responded in a somewhat somber voice, "Oh, you mean he's gone?" as in, "he's dead." To this the man immediately blurted out, "Oh no, no, no! I mean, they sent him home. He's not gone gone." I told the man I was relieved and walked away with a smirk on my face.

My advice: never use the word "gone" in a hospital.