Computers are Evil

Or, how I became the office hero by utilizing what is apparently not "common" sense.

We have a computer system at work that governs absolutely everything we do. I believe I've mentioned this. It contains the schedule, the files of all the patients, the orders for procedures and tests, patient history, and so forth. We enter prescriptions into it and, while we can print them out and give them to the patient, we more often use the computer to fax them directly--no paper involved at our end. We use it to log phone calls from patients, to leave messages, and quite possibly we are supposed to use some program called "Wee 6.0" when we want to pee. I haven't determined that yet, but it seems highly likely.

The computer is also, as it happens, an evil minded little troll who highly resents the holidays that we mortals take and sought to make us pay this morning with a little game of "screw the humans". Seriously--it was possessed. If it had had a head, it would have been spinning around wildly. Some people couldn't log in--but not all, because that would be easy to figure out. Patients couldn't be registered--again, just some. Attempting to fax prescriptions caused it to shut down the whole system. Attempting to check what medicines a person was taking caused it to throw the user unceremoniously from the system. And, just for fun, it randomly shut the program down while people were typing--preferably at a point that would make the innocent victim squeal like a little girl whose older brother just pulled the head off her doll. It wasn't pretty.

Around 8:15, a patient came in to be seen. The computer, chuckling evilly and stroking a white persian cat with one hand, decided that this person could not be put into the computer. Therefore, she had no chart. No chart--no way to enter vitals, list meds, list allergies, etc. No way to get this info to the physician. It was dreadful. Medical people were wringing their hands in desperation, and the Dr. was actually pacing, saying things dramatically such as "there MUST be a way to get this person in so my schedule stays on time!" I resisted the urge to say in a heavy Scottish accent "I'm givin' her all I can, Cap'n!" Instead, I did this:

I picked up a clipboard. I put some paper on it. I grabbed a pen. I went and called the patient back. I wrote her vital signs, her medications, and her allergies on the piece of paper with the pen. (Stop me if I'm getting too technical.). I walked down the hall (WALKED DOWN THE HALL, mind you) and handed it to the doctor. I told him she was ready to see him. He looked at me as though I had just invented cold fusion, and thanked me profusely. I swear, I would not have been surprised to hear him say "And this stuff...you call it....paper?" "Yes, yes I do. And this pointy thing here? This is a pen. No, don't put it in your mouth. Icky."

I saved the office a bit later again, when I realized that no one was handling the refills because of the computer glitch. I tried something radical--I picked up the phone and CALLED in the prescriptions. I dialed the phone and I talked to the pharmacists and I told them what I needed...and it worked. People got their medication and all was well in Mudville. Or Clinicville. Or whatever.

I can see potential in this. I may have to start coming in and randomly tossing out things like "Oh, dear. The computer gods are angry. They say you haven't been appreciating their queen--that would be me. They're threatening you with paper and telephones. The only thing that will appease them is for you to bring me offerings of chocolate and foot massage. I wouldn't test them if I were you. Do you really want things to come to having to bring me expensive sock yarn? 'Cause it could happen, people!"

Scary thing is: I'm not completely sure it wouldn't work.

On another note, I finished the rose socks and started a really, really lovely NEW sock in a breathtaking Koigu with shades of teal, and purple, and blue. Very rich. The pattern is a feather and fan pattern. And there would be a photo of it right......
Here:





Except Mr. K has taken the camera hostage. I guess he hasn't heard about my recent promotion to technology goddess (or non-technology goddess, I guess that would be). Just wait until he tries to get into his e-mail tonight. But anyway, the sock is pleasing me ridiculously and I will post a picture of it tomorrow. As is typical for me, I will continue to adore it until it doesn't fit right, it seems to be too tightly woven, or I spot something I like better because I have the attention span of a tomcat with ADD standing in an alley with 300 cats in heat, a mountain of tuna, and a man driving by in a catnip wagon. It's a sad thing.

Knit on, friends. Knit on. And be nice to your paper and pencils.