What's in a Name?

Sundays seem to be the most quiet day of the week on the hospital ward, so I wasn't expecting to have much to report. But there are a couple of things worth a mention.

Last night we had a nurse on duty who bore a striking resemblance to Frank Bruno. He had a dry sense of humour expressed by his constant singing of "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas". Each time he sang it he watched for a reaction as he changed the "white" for a different colour - green, red, blue, pink, yellow etc. but never the obvious "black".
Come the morning he was doing the observation round. One question on the list was "Have you opened your bowels since last night?"  He laid down an offer of a full English breakfast for the bay if anyone could genuinely answer "Yes". Nobody had stirred during the night, so he was on to a winner. Just then and to everyone's joy (except "nurse Bruno") the chap in bed 13 woke and declared that he had a "lodger" in his bed. Full English all round!

This afternoon a young nurse came in to collect an MRSA swab from the man next to me. He told her that one had been collected when he first arrived on the ward, but she presumed the results had not been logged. He duly swabbed his nostrils and nuts and she documented his name and date of birth...which were different to those on her sheet. "Oh, well your the wrong name" she said.
"No, I think you'll find I'm the wrong patient" he replied. Then she came to me.
"I need a MRSA swab from you but I got it from him. Can you give me one as well?" I obliged her as I fitted my best sarcastic head on. "You would think that they could put our names up for the staff to see."
"Oh they do, but they put them up above the beds." she told me.
"So that must be what makes it so confusing then."