It's official...

... I'm being stalked.

No, not by an unattractive, overweight man with middle-aged spread. No, not by one of the psych patients who truly believes that the voices in his head tell him that not showering is good for him. No. I'm being stalked by an 80-something year old woman.

Laugh it up. I did at first - now I'm just plain creeped out.

I am generally very caring and understanding with patients - so when a little old lady asked me to explain her medicines to her, I of course did so with a smile. Then the same little old lady came to the counter the next day, and asked if I would mind checking her medicines and disposing of those she didn't need or were out of date. The next day she came to ask if her blood pressure medicine could have been making her dizzy. It wasn't until she asked for me again by name on the fourth day that I realised I did, indeed, have a stalker.

Now don't get me wrong - I find it mildly flattering when people are so impressed by your knowledge and manner that they ask specifically for you when they have their next query - but seriously. Asking for me, to see if I'll help you fill in a form? To see if I'll help you fill out your postal vote? That's what the hospital volunteers are for - I'm a pharmacist, not your secretary.

So today, I worded up the girls in reception and told them that anyone who asks for me by name is to be told that I'm not working today, and that I was on leave for a few weeks. Worked a treat with Little Old Stalker Lady.

Pity our hospital's equivalent of 'McDreamy' from Emergency came around looking for me today... damnit.