Boo, you HIPAA

B spends his day surrounded by people infinitely more interesting than the people I spend my day around. No offense to my coworkers; they are lovely, kind, and interesting in their own right, BUT, check out this nugget o’ info.

I asked B how his day was last week and he said, “It was good. We had a high-functioning heroin addict.”

What? Tell me more! What do you mean “high functioning”? What do they do? What equates to a high-functioning heroin addict? Not dead?

These two = not high functioning.

These two = not high functioning.

His answer, “I can’t say any more. HIPAA.”


BOOM, conversation dead.

You drop this fascinating information and then just throw the law book at me?! I don’t need a name, a DOB or an address – just a little more info about this person’s situation! Don’t you know I have a wild imagination and have already written half a short story in my head based on this tidbit?!

Why does my husband have to be so damn ethical? Oh, right Code of Ethics. Your welcome, patients of America.


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