Twas the night before surgery, and all ‘cross the floor

The patients were buzzing ’bout the guy in Room Four.

His chart was hung on his door with great care

To make sure his name was not shown anywhere.

The patients were nestled all snug in their beds

While telemetry monitors beeped overhead.

And I in my gown, with its crack in the back,

Had just settled down for my clear liquid snack.

When down the hall there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

I pulled off my leads and flew out the door,

With my IV pole dragging behind on the floor.

Away to Room Four I hurriedly dashed

Unaware of my gown and the nurses I flashed.

As I slid to a halt and leaned to peek in

I heard the nurse say, “Sir, you mustn’t go in!”

And what did I see when I looked in Bed A

But ole Mr. Claus; on his belly he lay.

Covered in gauze and stuck high in the air

Oh what a sight, ’twas St. Nick’s derriere!

He was yelling at Doris, the nurse at his side

To be tied to this bed, he just could not abide.

He moaned and he bellowed about his ill luck

But there was just nothing for it; the old man was stuck.

“What happened to Santa?” to Doris I said,

“Why’s he on his belly in this hospital bed?”

With a grin she whispered, “He did something stupid.

He injured his butt when he backed into Cupid.”

But the old man’s ears were sharp as tack.

He heard what she said there behind his back.

“You had no right to speak, and that is a fact!

Don’t you know about HIPAA, the privacy act?”

“You’re out of HIPAA ompliance, Doris, my dear.

You had no right to tell him ’bout my injured rear!

I’ll sue you for breach, and this hospital, too!

You won’t have a job when I’m through with you!”

“When I check my list and then check it twice,

You’ll be in the column labeled ‘Not Nice.’

The HIPAA patrol will likewise drop by

To find out why you, Doris, did not comply!”

“They’ll want to know why you opened your yap,

A big, hefty fine on your butt they will slap.

And from me every Christmas you will now see

Nothing but switches and coal ‘neath your tree.”

Happy Holidays from all of us here at Touchstone Compliance!

(The poem above isn’t mine. I came across it
here. If anyone out there knows the author, let me know.)