Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Day at the Races

Early last Friday morning Mr. Party, a heavy-drinking patient of Dr. Smith (an internist downstairs in my building) wasn't feeling well. He'd quit drinking 2 days before, and decided to go to his doctor's office and wait for it to open.

While standing in the hall, Mr. Party was passed by a drug rep (yes, this one) coming to bring breakfast to me and Pissy's office. She markets anti-seizure medications, and her company has been promoting a campaign to make its reps more aware of the special needs of epilepsy patients.

Anyway, just as she was walking by Mr. Party, he suddenly collapsed and had a generalized seizure, wetting himself and lacerating his forehead on the doorknob as he fell. She then showed her newfound awareness of the special needs of seizure patients by running screaming through the building yelling "Help! Someone call 911!" repeatedly. The whole time she had a cell phone in her hand (Richard Dreyfuss did something similar in "Down & Out in Beverly Hills" for those who remember the flick).

Her meeting with me forgotten, she ran out to her car and decided to, um, I'm really not sure. As she was getting into it she suddenly realized she had a phone in her hand and called 911 herself. She then sat there for 15 minutes, trying to work up the courage to go back and look for her sample case and the tray of bagels she'd dropped in the excitement.

In the meantime, Dr. Smith had arrived at work to be greeted by one of his patients lying unconscious in a pool of blood and urine in front of his office door. At about the same time the police, firemen, and paramedics all arrived. They'd been summoned by the somewhat nonspecific nature of people in the building calling 911 when they heard the rep yelling, but not knowing what was going on.

Mr. Party was admitted to the hospital and is suspected of having had an alcohol-withdrawal seizure.

Dr. Smith waited until they loaded Mr. Party into the ambulance, then called building maintenance to shampoo the carpet in front of his office.

The drug rep found her sample case and bagels, and rescheduled her meeting with Pissy and I to later in the morning. During it she mentioned that she's considering a career change.

Friday, December 6, 2019

Midnight. Not a sound from the pavement.

Dr. Grumpy: "So that was 2 weeks ago that you were in the hospital... How have you been doing?"

Mr. Percheron: "I'm fine, I mean, I don't remember much about that day, but everything else has come back. What was that called?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Transient Global Amnesia. It's uncommon, and fortunately generally benign. You'll probably never remember the day it happened, but that's not a big deal."

Mr. Percheron: "Maybe you can help me with this?" (hands me a folded paper).

Dr. Grumpy: "What is it?"

Mr. Percheron: "It's from the hospital. They sent me a satisfaction questionnaire about my stay. But I don't remember anything about it."

Monday, December 2, 2019

"That's not my specialty."

Seen in a chart:


 
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