Thursday, May 31, 2012


Dr. Grumpy: "This is Dr. Grumpy, returning a page."

Mr. Shakes: "Yeah, you saw me in the hospital last week, and said I had a seizure. So now I can't drive for a month."

Dr. Grumpy: "Yes..."

Mr. Shakes "Well, I want to drive. You didn't see me have a seizure. So how do you know I had one?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Your wife and friends saw the episode, and described it as a seizure. You even had a second one in front of the paramedics. The description they all gave me was pretty consistent with one."

Mr. Shakes: "Look. I'm saying that I didn't have one. You need to go back and change the chart to say I had something else."

Dr. Grumpy: "I can't do that, sir."

Mr. Shakes: "Okay, what do you want? $100? $500? Name your price and I'll pay it. Just change the chart."

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Dear Groupon,

1. You need to retake biology. Either that or you've been watching too much daytime TV.

2. Generally emails selling a "meat package" get filtered out as spam. At least on my computer.

(click to enlarge)


Thank you, Brittany, for sending this in!

Lions and peacocks and needles OH MY!

My reader Jaime sent me some amazing pictures last week. She says they were in a brochure mailed to her pharmacy, from a vaccine company.

First we have this happy-looking lion, with hypodermic needles poking from his mane:


Next we have this equally chipper peacock, with more syringes sticking out:

I personally find these kind of strange. I mean, they look like something from a children's book written by heroin junkies. Or ads for a REALLY off-Broadway "Lion King" production:

Scar: "Hey Simba, you want to share needles?"

Simba: "No, Uncle! The future king of Pride Rock knows better! Kids, remember to never share needles!"

I have NO CLUE what the artist was trying to say:

"Order our vaccines: They'll be delivered by friendly animals with uncapped needles pointing in random directions!"

"Our vaccines are super-hygienic. At least, as hygienic as they can be after being glued to wild animals."

"We take your health seriously. Our advertising, not-so-much."

"This was failed 1969 album cover artwork, and we bought the rights."

"Our ads make more sense after you've self-injected the syringe."

"Cute animals! Sharp objects! Bring the whole family!"

Thank you, Jamie!

Tuesday, May 29, 2012


This weekend was the annual Wirfliss Pharmaceutical Company golf tournament. And it resulted in me making an ER run.

The event consists of drug reps and sundry other marketing people from all over the area in a 1-day golf challenge. This usually involves (as do many golf activities) large amounts of alcohol.

So I got called to ER to see 2 guys who'd suffered head injuries.

They were reps from competing territories, who were assigned to the same foursome.

After several drinks and holes, they began arguing about who had the better sales figures. Which led to a confrontation. Between 2 inebriated, hypercompetitive guys. Both armed with golf clubs.

I'll warn Mary to stock up on Wirfliss samples. May be a while before our rep is back.

Monday, May 28, 2012

Memorial Day reruns

The lawyer from South Dakota

On memorial day, veterans graves across the country are honored with wreaths and flags. But some veterans have no graves to honor, and can only be remembered.

Lieutenant Commander John C. Waldron, U.S.N.

He & his men changed the course of World War II in the Pacific, and didn't live to know it.

He was a lawyer, born in Fort Pierre, South Dakota. His father was descended from English settlers, his mother was a Sioux Indian.

He was married, with 2 daughters.

He was admitted to the state bar in South Dakota, but rather then going into practice decided to join the U.S. Navy. He was chosen to be a pilot, in the new field of naval aviation.

He trained to fly torpedo planes (no longer in use). Their goal was to fly close enough to an enemy ship to drop a torpedo into the water, then get away as fast as possible. This was a difficult job. It required the planes to fly in a low, straight line as they approached the enemy, making them easy targets for enemy fighters and anti-aircraft.

Waldron was a good pilot. He was chosen to teach at Annapolis, and later Pensacola. He flew planes off 1 battleship and 3 carriers.

He and his wife held parties for other pilots at their Norfolk home. He was very proud of his little girls. Some pilots remembered being taken to his daughters' darkened bedroom and asked "Did you guys ever see such pretty little girls?"

With war looming in the Summer of 1941, Waldron and his men were assigned to the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Hornet, in the Pacific theater.

He was determined. He once told his pilots that "if we run out of gas, we'll piss in the tanks." He wasn't looking for glory, or to become a martyr, or a hero. He was just doing his job.

On the morning of June 4, the Hornet was somewhere off Midway island, placed there to defend against the massive Japanese force sent to capture the Pacific base.

Waldron likely had few illusions about his chances. Although his men were well-trained, their "Devastator" torpedo bombers were already obsolete. The new "Avenger" planes were much better, but only beginning to roll out of the factories. And with the enemy coming, they had to make do with what they had. Before the battle he called his men together and said "If there is only one plane left to make a final run in, I want that man to go in and get a hit."

The Japanese "Zero" fighter was a lethal weapon. Though poorly protected, it was quicker and more maneuverable than its American counterparts. And it was flown by some of the best pilots in the world.

On the morning of June 4, 1942, Waldron led Torpedo Squadron 8 off the Hornet. He had orders to search for the Japanese in a specific area, but had a hunch (he called it his "Sioux intuition") that the heading he'd been told to follow was wrong. He disobeyed orders, and it turned out his intuition was correct.

Waldron led his 15 planes straight to the enemy fleet. Forced to fly straight & low to aim their torpedoes, they were sitting ducks as the Zeros swooped down and destroyed them one by one. Out of 30 men, there was only one survivor, Lt. George Gay. He saw Waldron stand up in his plane as it burst into flames, just before his own plane was shot out from under him. They didn't get a single hit.

The 15 pilots of Torpedo Squadron 8, photographed in May, 1942. Waldron is standing, 3rd from left. Lt. George Gay, (circled, 1st row) is the only man in the picture who survived.

In a few minutes all the planes of Torpedo Squadron 8 had vanished beneath the Pacific, leaving only Lieutenant Gay hiding from the Zeros under his flotation device. It was a disaster for the Americans.

But unbeknownst to all but Lt. Gay, they changed the course of the Pacific war.

The deadly Zeros were now at sea level, on the prowl for more torpedo planes. But the next American wave, this time of dive bombers, was high above. They might have been easy targets, too. But as they came down the Zeros were no longer in a position to defend their fleet, and couldn't gain altitude in time to stop the bombers. Between 10:20 and 10:25 a.m that morning the Japanese lost 3 of their 4 aircraft carriers to the bombers. The last carrier followed them a few hours later.

The loss of the four carriers, with their planes, pilots, and crews, was a blow the Japanese navy never recovered from. The war went on for 3 more years, but the tide was turned by the sacrifice of a group of men, led by a 41-year old lawyer from South Dakota.

ll my readers, no matter what country they're in, owe their freedom to soldiers in all military branches. So remember them today.

The fallen from Torpedo Squadron 8. Their only grave marker is the blue Pacific water.

Lt. Commander John C. Waldron
Lt. Raymond A. Moore
Lt. James C. Owens, Jr.
Lt.(jg) George M. Campbell
Lt.(jg) John P. Gray
Lt.(jg) Jeff D. Woodson
Ens.William W. Abercrombie
Ens. William W. Creamer
Ens. Harold J. Ellison
Ens. William R. Evans
Ens. Henry R. Kenyun
Ens. Ulvert M. Moore
Ens. Grant W. Teats
Robert B. Miles, Aviation Pilot 1c
Horace F. Dobbs, Chief Radioman
Amelio Maffei, Radioman 1
Tom H. Pettry, Radioman 1
Otway D. Creasy, Jr. Radioman 2
Ross H. Bibb, Jr., Radioman 2
Darwin L. Clark, Radioman 2
Ronald J. Fisher, Radioman 2
Hollis Martin, Radioman 2
Bernerd P. Phelps Radioman 2
Aswell L. Picou, Seaman 2
Francis S. Polston, Seaman 2
Max A. Calkins, Radioman 3
George A. Field, Radioman 3
Robert K. Huntington Radioman 3
William F. Sawhill, Radioman 3

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Random Sunday pictures

I'm used to people trying to get a better parking space by pretending to be a doctor, but it must be a lot trickier to impersonate a museum.

Next we have this lawyer, who has an interesting moonlighting job (sort of like Hannah Montana, I guess):

And then this fortune, which could mean, uh, a lot of things...

And, lastly, a reader from Sydney, Australia took this picture in a local grocery store to show how widespread the artisanal bullshit is. I'm unclear as to whether it's the bag, or the bread, or both that are artisanal. For that matter, the idea of "armored bread" is pretty strange.

Saturday, May 26, 2012


His name was Feldman. He belonged to our temple when I was growing up.

Feldman was the most boring guy in the world. Anonymous desk job. Anonymous life. One of these guys who was always on some boring temple committee (I still don't understand people who live to be on committees- temple, church, hospital, whatever).

Like these people do, he eventually became temple president one year. As such he was the guy who traditionally makes a few announcements during the high holiday service on Yom Kippur.

Sadly, taking the podium that day, with an insanely bored reform congregation full of 1-day-a-year-Jews, was the highlight of Feldman's life. He wasn't going to let it go. And we'd all been sitting there for 3 hours (there's a reason we were reform - make the services REALLY short, so we can go out for bacon cheeseburgers afterwards).

He was supposed to make a few generic announcements: "The children's service starts at 9:00 tomorrow morning. Thank you to Irma Goldblat for stacking the prayer books. Remember to put your yarmulkes in the bin on the right as you leave."

But that wasn't good enough for Feldman. This was his lifetime ambition 5 minutes in the spotlight, and he'd prepared a fucking speech. Not even a good speech. Just a boring-as-hell speech in which he thanked EVERY FUCKING PERSON on EVERY FUCKING COMMITTEE by name. And the lady who did payroll in the office. And the guy who set up the chairs. And the guy who was going to put away the chairs. And the people bringing food to the children's service. And the lady who made the lovely cake for the Silverman Bat Mitzvah. And it went ON AND ON AND ON.

As he passed the 30 minute mark of this insanity, my mother's friend Corkie, seated toward the back of the auditorium, said LOUDLY, "You have to wonder what he's like in bed!"

Feldman stopped. Then walked off as the congregation fell into hysterics.

The Rabbi needed another 10 minutes before he could coherently say the closing prayer.

Friday, May 25, 2012


Mrs. Downer: "I feel so bad. I'm just bad. I know how bad off I am. Am I really that bad?"

Dr. Grumpy: "No."

Mrs. Downer: "Oh, that's good."

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Some things just go great together

Thank you, Sheila!

The bag lady

Mrs. Gift is a sweet lady who always brings a small present for my staff and I. It's usually a little paper bag filled with something like a few dipped strawberries, or some chocolates, or other candies. I generally turn it over to Mary to put in the break room.

Yesterday she started the appointment off as usual by handing me a little paper bag. I thanked her, and we had our visit.

Afterwards I gave it to Mary. She took it to the back, and opened it.

It contained a PBJ sandwich, a banana, and a bag of chips.

Mrs. Gift came back an hour later, looking for her lunch in exchange for a bag of lollipops.

Wednesday, May 23, 2012


Dr. Grumpy: "How are things at home? Didn't you get married last year?"

Mrs. Taylor: "Okay. This one is an okay marriage. I've had several that were happier, but certainly quite a few that were worse, too."

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Zoo. To go.

"No officer, the parrot was driving. Talk to him."

Thank you, Grant!

Monday with Mary's voice mail

"Hi, I'm looking for a neurologist who treats symptoms caused by electromagnetic force fields, such as those given off by cell phones, WiFi transmitters, hearing aids, and computers. These things are prevalent in our society, and are making me and my friends all sick. We need someone who can treat us for brain and nerve damage from their radiation, and who could also help us file a mass lawsuit against all cell phone, computer, and hearing aid users. Thank you."

Monday, May 21, 2012

We're talking serious Haldol. And 4-point leathers

Gee, why do I suspect drugs were involved?

Thank you, Tanya!

More hairs leap off

Dr. Grumpy: "Hi, Mike, it's Ibee."

Dr. Brilliant: "Yes, what can I do for you?"

Dr. Grumpy: "I sent Mr. Jones to you - you saw him earlier today - for a second opinion on his weird muscle disease. What did you think?"

Dr. Brilliant: "I'd like to know what his EMG showed."

Dr. Grumpy: "Well..."

Dr. Brilliant: "You know, I don't mind doing second opinions. But it's not helpful when you don't send all the information with the patient."

Dr. Grumpy: "Because..."

Dr. Brilliant: "I cannot help the patient without the test results. Could you have your staff send the EMG to me?

Dr. Grumpy: "YOU DID THE EMG YOURSELF! 2 weeks ago! I sent him to you for the test!" 

(long pause)

Dr. Brilliant: "Let me get back to you."

Sunday, May 20, 2012


Yesterday at a birthday party I was sitting on a park bench near 2 young mothers at a picnic table. Both were covered with tattoos. And I overheard this:

Mom 1: "Did you hear Jessica got breast implants?"

Mom 2: "No! That's just wrong. Why would anyone do something like that to change their body?"

Saturday, May 19, 2012


Due to a bunch of kid activities today, I'm just posting this for your entertainment.


Friday, May 18, 2012

Mary's Desk

Mary: "Dr. Grumpy's office, this is Mary."

Ms. Sleaze: "Yes, I need to speak to Dr. Grumpy immediately."

Mary: "Who is this?"

Ms. Sleaze: "You have some nerve to ask me that! This is Ima Sleaze, and I'm calling him on a personal matter about him being a homeowner."

Mary: "Okay, I can give him a message, but he's with a patient. If this is a sales call I can tell you he won't return it."

Ms. Sleaze: "THIS IS AN IMPORTANT MATTER FOR ALL HOMEOWNERS! You can tell him that Suzy Patient referred me to him. I know he'll get on the phone right now."

Mary: "I'm not going to interrupt him with a patient. If you want to leave me your phone number, I'll give him the message."

Ms. Sleaze: "He'll fire you for not putting me through, and you'll have only yourself to blame."


Thursday, May 17, 2012

Thursday evening rambling

Sitting here, listening to Donna Summer on iTunes.

Disco was, for the most part, not one of music's greatest genres.

But Donna Summer was something special. I was 12 years old (what's called a "tween" today) when she hit the big time.

She had an incredible voice, and used it with style. Songs that no one else could carry she could. She put energy into the music. Cover versions just don't do them justice the way her pipes did. Even while "MacArthur Park" (which she didn't write- she did a cover of an older song) had some, uh, unusual lyrics, she still made them come alive in a way that blew the original away.

"Hot Stuff" was the first 45 rpm single I remember buying. I took it home and listened to it repeatedly. Certainly not philosophical stuff, but at an age when you were first trying to figure out girls, the music was PERFECT to just get up and boogie at the 7th & 8th grade dance (6:30 to 9:30, 1st Friday of each month, in the school cafeteria). It gave you courage to ask a girl to dance, and hope she didn't notice your braces.

On a side note, the first time I ever danced with a girl was when SHE asked me. Her name was Amy, and I was sitting on a table, trying to figure the whole thing out. She came out of nowhere, grabbed my hands, and pulled me out on the floor. I guess she didn't ask me at all, just said "Come on!" and pulled my arms out of their sockets.

The only disco on my iTunes has always been Donna Summer's greatest hits. Last year, when my wife gave me an LP/cassette-to-digital converter, I dug out the ancient "Hot Stuff" single and digitalized it.

Yeah, the CD music version is clearer, but hearing my original vinyl 45 again, with the scratchy needle sound, means more to me. It's the version that's still embedded deep in my brain, taking me back to the school dance.

Thank you, Donna.

Wednesday night, 11:23 p.m.

Dr. Grumpy: "This is Dr. Grumpy, returning a page."

Mrs. Dword: "Yeah, I saw you a year or so ago for my pain issues, and they're pretty bad now. I'm in Farfaraway Hospital ER."

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, I'll let the doctor there handle it. I don't have privileges there."

Mrs. Dword: "I want you to tell them to give me another ER doctor. This one isn't giving me any of the good pain medicines I keep asking for."

Dr. Grumpy: "Good night."

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Speeding. Drunk Driving. Racing through a construction zone.

But hey, it's for a good cause!

Thank you, Lee!

Of course, morons are everywhere.



Dr. Grumpy: "Have a seat and let me look at your chart... So I saw you last week and started you on Mariokart. I'm surprised to see you back in less than a week. Was there a problem?"

Mrs. Copay: "No, I haven't even started it yet. But at the appointment you said I could take it in the morning or at night, and I said I'd like to take it at night. I've been thinking about it, and I'd rather take it in the morning. Is that still okay?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Yes... Was that all?"

Mrs. Copay: "That was it. Thank you!" (leaves office)

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Great patient moments

Dr. Grumpy: "Pete, I want to see you back in 3 months."

Pete: "You're pretty optimistic. I'm 92."

Monday, May 14, 2012


What a way to go!

Thank you, Jackie!

Holy interpreter, Batman!

Local hospital just hired a Somali interpreter, to help with Somali refugees settling in Grumpyville.

He's a nice guy, fluent in both English and Somali (Spanish and French, too), and remarkably helpful.

But, there is one issue with him.

His name (pronounced and spelled as you'd expect) is...


Yup. God.

So when I'm on call, I get to say & hear things I never thought I would:

"Can someone get God on the phone?"

"Where can I find God? MRI?"

"Thank God! God is here!"

"Did you put God on hold?"

"I think God went to lunch."

"Is God out sick today?"

"If God calls back, patch him through to my cell phone."

"If anyone sees God, send him to room 7."

And my favorite: "God's in the pharmacy, talking to Jesus."

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Weekend reruns

Let's take the Way-Back machine to the early-90's.

Dr. Grumpy is the medicine intern, on-call for Thanksgiving, at a large VA hospital (a veterans hospital for my non-U.S. readers, with consequently a primarily cantankerous elderly male population).

A peculiar thing about VA hospitals (at least back then, I haven't worked at one for 18 years) is that patients could sign out at the nurse's desk, and come back later (allegedly they were in the hospital because they were sick, but you need to work at one to understand this point). So the sheet was always full of notations that patients had signed out to go to McDonald's, or to buy cigarettes, or to smoke, or to visit friends at the homeless shelter, or to hold up a liquor store, or whatever.

Some bright businessman had opened a stripper club across the street from the hospital, I think it was called The Jaguar Room. So on Thanksgiving the VA ward I was covering was empty, as most of the patients had signed out to walk, wheel, or crawl over to The Jaguar Room for some female comfort and booze.

I was asleep in the intern's room when the calls began coming in. All of them from the bartender at The Jaguar Room. Questions about was it safe for my patients to be smoking through their tracheostomy tubes? Were the cardiac telemetry packs still transmitting from across the street? Was there a place at the VA where the patients could get more $1 bills, because they'd used them all up on the strippers?

And my favorite:

Bartender: "Can I give Mr. Veteran another beer?"

Intern Grumpy: "Um, what's the problem?"

Bartender: "He has one of those foley bags things, with the tube going up his dick. The bag is, like, REALLY full, and I'm afraid if I give him another beer it'll pop and send piss everywhere."

Intern Grumpy: "Send him back to the hospital."

Bartender: "Well, that's bad for business."

Intern Grumpy: "So is showering your clientele with piss."

Mr. Veteran was wheeled back over to the VA immediately, by a topless stripper no less, who waited while his bag was emptied and then pushed him back to the bar.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

Found at a freakin' dollar store!

Today's post is brought to you by Information on Medigap Plans.

These are glorified RUBBER BANDS! Yet, somehow, they got labeled as both "limited edition" and "artisan."

What the hell?

Thank you, Marie!

Friday, May 11, 2012


He was widowed and in his 80's. A delightful guy.

At his 2nd appointment he brought a pie for the staff. The office girls were flattered. They invited him back to the break room to have a piece with them. He chatted with them for a while, then left.

At every visit after that he brought a pie, and each time got invited back to share it with them. It was nothing more than casual chatting and a little flirting. Pleasant older gentleman, surrounded for 15-30 minutes by several considerably younger women.

When I'm in my 80's, I want to remember the pie trick.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Descriptive speech

Mrs. Claustrophobic: "I'll do a CT scan, but not an MRI. What does a CT scan look like, anyway?"

Dr. Grumpy: "It looks like a big donut, and they put you through the hole in the middle."

Mrs. Claustrophobic: "I don't know... I don't like donuts."


Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, it looks like a big bagel, and they put you through the hole in the middle."

Mrs. Claustrophobic: "Oh, okay. I can do that."

Wednesday, May 9, 2012


Dr. Hospitalist: "Hello?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Yeah, this is Grumpy, calling about Mrs. Protoplasm."

Dr. Hospitalist "The lady I consulted you on? What's up?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, from looking at her chart she was here last month for a stroke, and then a seizure, and at that time you handled it yourself and didn't consult neurology."

Dr. Hospitalist: "That's correct."

Dr. Grumpy: "So today I get a consult and find she's obtunded, terminally ill, and scheduled to go to hospice in an hour."

Dr. Hospitalist: "Yeah, family doesn't want anything done, and I think that's reasonable."

Dr. Grumpy: "So why are you consulting me NOW?"

Dr. Hospitalist: "In case there's anything else to do."

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Driving home from school

Craig: "Frank, we need to talk about our secret surprise present for Mother's Day."

Frank: "Yeah?"

Craig: "You need to help more. You're not doing a fair share of the work."

Frank: "But we haven't started! You haven't even told me what we're doing for the present yet!"

Craig: "What does that have to do with it?"

Oh, I think you do

Mrs. Neun: "I'm very unhappy with you! You told my co-worker she had Multiple Sclerosis!"

Dr. Grumpy: "Sorry... Did it change your job a lot?"

Mrs. Neun: "NO! But I want to have something wrong with me, too!"

Monday, May 7, 2012

Yogurt. And nuts.

In humans, testicles tend to be more figurative than literal. When you say "he has big balls" I suspect you didn't actually LOOK at the guy's testicles. Besides, in the modern use of the term, females can be said to have balls, and I'm pretty sure they anatomically don't.

Part of the issue is that human testicles are a bit hidden at baseline, and when you add a few layers of clothes you don't see them at all (unless you have filariasis).

But all of that could change. With yogurt.

In a recently published study bound to send gangsta-rappers to the nearest dairy aisle, they found that male mice fed only yogurt developed larger and heavier testicles (5%-15% increase ) over mice on other diets. They also developed a characteristic posture of projecting their jewels outwards, which in turn gave them a "swagger" when walking. And (of course) they had better hair.

At this point I suggest you pause. Because you've probably got an image of a swaggering, big-balled, nice-haired mouse eating Yoplait listening to a megavolume boombox stuck in your head, and you'll need a minute to get over it.

Moving on.

The application of this in humans is staggering, but quite frankly I don't WANT bigger balls. I mean, walking can be klutzy enough as it is without putting more things in the way. The last thing I want is to go through life like Angus Young.*

The nicer hair I'm interested in. Hell, at this point in my life I'm interested in ANY hair. But I think I'll stick with Minoxidil.

I can see wanting to swagger here and there, like when I save the day at the hospital and don't have my cape with me (oh hell, I'm a neurologist, who am I kidding?), but I'm generally happy sitting at my desk in a quiet office. And when you spend most of the day on your rear end, bigger balls just get in the way, and you have to waste time readjusting them.

The article ended by noting that similar studies of yogurt, testicles, and "semen quality" in humans have been "consistent" with the mouse data. I have no idea who's volunteering for this. "After finishing the yogurt, take this magazine and a cup into the restroom."

Since I already have 3 kids, and would rather be comfortable at my desk, I'm glad that Diet Coke now comes with vitamins and minerals (can we have one with Minoxidil, too?). I'll get my calcium there, and leave the yogurt to those who prefer it with nuts. Big ones.

Thank you, Moose!

*If you understood the reference before clicking the link, then you're old. Like me.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Weekend reruns, part 2

A few days after the issue described yesterday, I put this letter on Dr. Pissy's desk...

Craven, Cretin, & Klutz, P.C.
Attorneys at Law

November 5, 2010

I. M. Pissy, M.D.
7291 N. Headache St.
Grumpyville, CX 34611

RE: Legal Action of Grumpy vs. Pissy

Dear Dr. Pissy,

Our firm has been retained by Dr. Grumpy in a legal action against you pursuant to the events of November 1, 2010.

On that date a canine possession of yours ("Fancy") pooped in Dr. Grumpy's exam room. This is in violation of federal regulations #1, #7, and #3,748,425-A, and caused Dr. Grumpy severe emotional denoberation, mental discombobulation, odoriferous substance exposure, fulminant social embarrassment, and a bunch of other polysyllabic words.

After careful consideration of legal options, including a $10 billion lawsuit for emotional damages, we've decided on the following out-of-court settlement:

"Blackdog", a 65 lbs. canine possession of Dr. Grumpy's of undetermined genetic nature (i.e. a "mutt"), shall be allowed into YOUR exam room to poop on the floor following lunch on November 10, 2010. Laxatives will be used to ensure the settlement is equitable.

If this settlement is acceptable to you, please have your attorney call their attorney who will then call our attorney who will then notify us, and we will make the necessary arrangements to transport Blackdog.

We hope this resolves the issue. Please contact us for any questions.

Yours truly,

Oksana "Oksi" Kontin
Legal Assistant to Mr. Klutz.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Weekend reruns, part 1

Due to a bunch of school-year-coming-to-a-close things this weekend, I'm doing reruns.

Dr. Pissy's wife has a little black mop of a dog named Fancy. Mrs. Pissy is never without her.

Yesterday one of Dr. Pissy's staff was out, so Mrs. Pissy came in to help. And, of course, she brought Fancy.

Fancy spent most of the time trapped in the break room, but during lunch was allowed to roam the office since there weren't any patients.

After she was cooped up again I brought my 1:00 back, and gave him directions. "Go on back, 2nd room on the right, have a seat and I'll be with you in a sec" (I wanted to get a Diet Coke).

So after I grabbed a can, I headed back to my office. The patient was standing in the hallway.

"Uh, doc, do you know there's a pile of dog shit in your office?"

Friday, May 4, 2012

Thursday afternoon

Mr. Answer: "My parents are doing great. They're both in their early 90's, and quite healthy."

Mrs. Answer: "Honey, your dad is 89, and your mother is 87."

Mr. Answer: "Yeah, early 90's."

Mrs. Answer: "No, that's late 80's."

Mr. Answer: "That would be 85."

Mrs. Answer: "You're not rounding this properly."

Mr. Answer: "Who's the retired math teacher here?"

Mrs. Answer: "I am."

Dr. Grumpy: (Sigh) "Are you allergic to any medications?"

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Computers: letting you practice without a brain

I don't use templates. I hate them. I don't care how much time they save.

They make you look like a moron. Not a doctor.

What makes me say this?

Because yesterday I got a letter from a local family practice doc, who I know recently purchased a computer chart system. A note on an 87 year old lady with advanced dementia, who lives in an Alzheimer's nursing home, featured this line:

"The following preventative issues were discussed with the patient: seatbelt use, driving safety, breast self-exam, testicular self-exam, tobacco avoidance, illicit drug use, safe sex, exercise, nutrition, alcohol moderation, caffeine moderation, routine screening for colon/breast/prostate cancer, and weight control."


1. He's a moron, and really did all that.

2. He's just letting the computer fill in every default, so he can bill for time, and is still a moron.

3. He's not even bothering to see the patients anymore, and is a lazy moron.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Great names

"Look, officer, I'm not the guy you're looking for!"

Have you considered earplugs?

Patient quote of the day:

"I always keep a gun on my nightstand, to help me sleep. The neighbors have this stupid dog that starts barking around midnight. So I fire a few shots out the window, and that shuts him up until morning."

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Today's lesson: Never leave the patient alone.

Mrs. Ungal: "Hey doc, look at this!" 

Holds up small flat object, sort of a whitish-greenish-brown.

Dr. Grumpy: "What is it?"

Mrs. Ungal: "My big toenail. I pulled it off while you were talking to Mary."
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