I don't know him personally. I wish I did, as he seems like a helluva nice guy. He's a hospitalist, and in our occasional communications by email or blog comments seems to be pretty cool, and a damn good doctor. He's the kind I wish worked at my hospital.
In addition, Karl is also a great cook from what his family tells me. Every year he single-handedly whips-up some sort of major-league Mardi Gras feast. Never having been to Mardi Gras I have no idea what he's cooking, but if I was invited, and lived near you, Karl, I'd definitely come over (but I'd have to draw the line at crawdads- crustaceans just ain't my thing).
As you can see in the picture, Karl's sister was also kind enough to make him a Dr. Grumpy cooking apron for Christmas.
He's also built his own wooden boat. Not a model, but a real boat. Which is way beyond what I can do. My boat-construction abilities are limited to inflating a raft for the pool.
Unfortunately, for all the fact that Karl is a good person, doctor, and cook, he's been diagnosed with brain cancer, has been through chemotherapy, and is now home on hospice.
So, Karl, this post is dedicated to you. I'm sure you helped plenty of patients and their families over the years who never had a chance to thank you.
Not to mention helped patients of other neurologists, and because of my field's inherent lack of social skills, I suspect my neurobros didn't thank you either.
Since you're now on the other side of the bedrail, I want to thank you on all of their behalfs and wish you and your family the very best at this difficult time.
I also want you to know what an awesome sister you have, and how much she loves you enough to put me up to this. Your wife is in cahoots with her.
Thank you, from all of us out here in cyberspace.
Ibee Grumpy, M.D.