Spitting Bastard Karma

When I came to my unit today, after the annoyance of having my blood drawn, the spitting bastard was gone. His bed was empty and his name had been erased from the board. That worried me. He was too sick to have been discharged, so I was afraid that he had died. It turned out that he started to crash during the night and had been transferred to ICU.

I was relieved that the bastard was still alive not because of any fondness for him, but because if he had died, I would have worried that he had some horrible, infectious disease that I might have contracted, like rabies. He was foaming at the mouth. Okay?I figure as long as he's alive, then I'm okay too. (I hate being neurotic. )

As my coworkers arrived, they also wondered what happened to the bastard and a couple of people teased me about whether I had done something to him. I didn't have to, karma took care of him. Spit blood on me and the powers that be will put you in ICU. I'm special. *cough*