Making New Friends

Yesterday I had to leave a session to make a phone call. I do that on a fairly regular basis, when the session is a bit boring or to call my friends to brag about the rarity of the condition my patient has. This time, I ducked into an exam room to call a lab to check the cost of a test. I was transferred from the lab to the billing department and put on hold, and during the transfer I heard what might have been a bizarre, strangled scream. I have no more information about that nor does it lead to anything else later in the story; it just weirded me out.

I waited for an indeterminate amount of time. Bored, I looked to my surroundings for entertainment. Sitting on the desk in front of me was a stack of two Tupperware containers. The top one appeared to contain a clump of hair submerged in a bit of water. "Well that's werid," I thought, absently picking up the container. "Who cleans out their shower comb and saves it for the doctor?"

I checked the label. "[Patient's name]'s pin worms with eggs attached. Keep in water." Oh. Holy. Jebus. Picture me, sitting in an exam room on the phone, stuck on hold with a lab and a handful of presumably still living parasitic intestinal worms. "Quick" is an understatement describing the speed with which I set that Tupperware down. The one beneath the original nightmare contained what at first glance, still in my parasite-crazed mind, appeared to be folds of infested intestinal tissue. I soon realized that it was actually paper towels. Shut up, I was bracing myself for the worst. This one was just some pinworm eggs from the same patient. Just some parasite eggs.

Holy crap, who is this chick?! Where is she?! Did she sit in this chair?! Okay, done. Put the phone down, holding or not, and went to wash my hands. Up to the elbows. Several times. By the time I got back to the phone it was making a weird beeping noise, so I hung up and called back, only to be put back on hold. Very good phone system they have down at Baylor. At this point, the infectious disease doctor popped in to the room.

"Are you hanging out with my worms?" he asked, grabbing the disgusting containers.

"Yeah, then I had to wash my hands," I replied, then realizing that information was totally unnecessary, that now this doctor knew I was touching the worm containers, freaking out about touching the worm containers and worrying that worms could transmit their eggs through plastic to my skin. He didn't need to know that.