Whatever

Mr. Phone: "I need to come in today!"

Mary: "We can see you at 1:15 this afternoon."

Mr. Phone: "That's too soon. How about tomorrow?"

Dear Mr. Pantsoff,

Sorry I was kind of rude on the phone last night.

I wasn't able to be at Cub Scout camp this weekend, as I was on call. It obviously bothers you that my daughter Marie was there, but my wife didn't really have a choice but to take her, since I wouldn't be home to watch her. I can't haul her around to hospitals, and since she's 8 I can't leave her home alone for a weekend (although you clearly disagreed with the last point).

I'm also sorry that your kid is such a shit, but it ain't his fault. I mean, it was no secret last year when you and that other Mom began sneaking away during den meetings that you were shagging in the bathroom. I think it's nice that now you've both left your spouses to be together. Your boys have a lot in common, like the fact that they're both 10, and in the same scout den, and have skanky parents.

Anyway, I think it was entirely unreasonable for the scout master to have disciplined the boys for stealing and breaking other kids' projects this weekend. Apparently you and your squeeze were off balling in the bushes during that time, so it was inconsiderate of him to try and teach them some manners in your absence.

Also, why you were yelling at me last night about your kids not getting to make bows & arrows (and that being the reason they tried to steal the ones my kids made), makes no sense to me. I wasn't at camp this weekend, and am certainly not the reason you guys were 6 hours late getting there. The schedule clearly listed that project as being at 9:00 a.m., and you guys didn't show up until 3. I think it's downright unfair that the scout master didn't immediately put the other 15 kids on hold to take care of yours. After all, you and the lady (who I think may have recently been featured on CK Lunchbox) are clearly the most important people in the universe.

But, to address the reason you called me last night, I'm NOT going to replace your fancy digital camera. It's not my fault that you brought it to camp. Or that your creepy 10 year old boy took it out of your backpack. Or that your future sex-offender hid in the girls bathroom to try and get pictures of Marie naked.

If you want the camera back, I'd contact the camp's maintenance guy. I'm sure he could let you into the septic tank to get it out. Or you could try the pipes near where Marie flushed it. Maybe it's stuck there.

Likewise, I ain't paying your kid's medical bills. If the little freak had given the camera to Marie when she asked for it, she wouldn't have had to break his finger to get it. Maybe he'll learn something about respect for women. Maybe you will, too.

Anyway, I think it also added to the weekend that the scout master got to demonstrate first aid by splinting the finger with a hankie and popsicle sticks.

Have a nice day. Be prepared.

Thank You for Calling

"Hi, I think I saw Dr. Grumpy, or some doctor who knows him, at the hospital. It was either this weekend or last weekend. I was there for a stroke, or a headache, or something like that. Anyway, could someone please call me back to tell me if I need to see the doctor again? Also, if you guys know what hospital I was at, I want to know that too. Thank you."

And, of course, no name or phone number was left.

Post-Call, Monday Morning

After rounds this morning I stopped by the doctors' lounge to get a Big-Gulp sized coffee. They were out of creamer, so when I got to the office I grabbed a couple packets that were lying around the break room and stirred them in.

When I began drinking it I choked. The packets weren't creamer. They were parmasan cheese, from a drug rep who brought pizza last week.

Coffee tossed, switching to Diet Coke.

Pop Quiz

Okay, Grumpy fans. Put your books away and get out a #2 pencil. We're having another pop quiz. Mr. Knucklehead, please put away the issue of Boy's Life. We can all see you're hiding your mom's new Cosmo behind it.

Everyone ready? Good.

Question: You're a nurse at a major hospital. Your patient's white cell count (WBC) jumped from a horribly abnormal 44 yesterday to a frighteningly abnormal 79 this morning.

Do you call:

A. The hematologist treating the patient's bone marrow disorder.

B. The cardiologist following the patient's pacemaker.

C. The neurologist evaluating the patient's imbalance.


If you answered C, thank you for waking me up this morning. I greatly enjoyed your reasoning of "I called you because your name was the first one listed alphabetically."

Saturday, 11:57 p.m.

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

Ms. Narc: "Yeah, I'm a patient of Dr. Notoncall. He has me on Vicodin, and I'm all out"

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm sorry, I don't call in controlled drugs after hours"

Ms. Narc: "But I'm hurting!"

Dr. Grumpy: "You'll have to call his office on Monday, or go to urgent care or ER if your pain is that bad."

Ms. Narc: "But I can't make it until then! I hurt all over!"

Dr. Grumpy: "I can't call in these pills for you. Sorry"

Ms. Narc: "Ummmm... But I don't need pills! Yesterday I had one of those, uh, gastric bypass surgeries, like the fat guy on TV once did, so I need liquid Vicodin. So it's not a pill. You can call that in, right?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Good night" (hangs up).

On Call, Again

Mrs. Bluehair: "I suddenly couldn't write with my left hand".

Dr. Grumpy: "Are you left handed?"

Mrs. Bluehair: "No, I'm very strongly right handed. I've really never been able to do anything coordinated with my left hand."

Isn't That the Point?

Being a brain doc, I don't keep up on the varying contents of the different birth control pills out there.

But today I saw a lady whose migraines had changed between pill brands, so I looked them up to see what the difference was between them.

Under side effects one of them listed "temporary infertility".

What the Hell?

Lady, if you leave your work number as where to call you back, and ask that I call you back immediately, DON'T FREAKING YELL AT ME OR MARY FOR CALLING YOU AT WORK!!!

Dear President Obama,

I'm writing to you for the first time.

I don't want this to be a political blog. There are plenty of other sites for that. But we now face a national crisis of such serious proportions that it dwarfs other issues, such as global warming, health care, and middle-east peace. It now threatens the very fabric of our society, and directly affects every citizen. And I can remain silent no longer.

It's still September, and every store near me ALREADY HAS THEIR CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS UP!

I have nothing against the holidays, Mr. President. Peace on Earth and all that stuff. But moving them up as if they were being held in another time-zone or alternate universe is getting out-of-hand. As far as I know, Christmas hasn't budged in my lifetime. And treating every day like it was Christmas (like the stores seem to want me to do) is not helping.

The well-respected Nick documentary program, The Fairly Oddparents, has carefully researched what would happen if Christmas were held every day (Episode 107, air date 12-12-01 I have kids, OKAY!). Their conclusion? It would be catastrophic.

There also seems to be a degree of unintentional discrimination. For example, Hanukkah starts more than 2 weeks before Christmas this year, but I didn't see Hanukkah decorations going up 2 weeks before the Christmas ones. In fact, I haven't seen any at all yet. Or Kwanzaa stuff. Or Festivus. Or New Year's.

This seasonal perversion extends to other holidays, too. I mean, by January 2nd most stores are decked out with Easter junk, and on July 5th the Halloween crap is up.

So, Mr. President, I propose the following, federally mandated solutions (please note: I'm only including those holidays that retailers love. Let's face it, not many of us are out there buying gifts for Groundhog day or cards for Columbus day. I'm also leaving out local holidays like Delaware Statehood Day, the Montana Huckleberry Harvest Celebration, and the Byron, Illinois, Turkey Testicle Festival).

Valentine's Day Decorations will NOT be put up until the 3rd week of January.

St. Patrick's Day Decorations will NOT be put up until after March 1st.

Passover/Easter decorations will NOT be put up until after St. Patrick's day.

Independance day decorations (July 4th) will NOT be put up until the 3rd week of June.

Halloween stuff will NOT be put up before October 1st

Thanksgiving Stuff will NOT be put up before November 1st.

Christmas/New Year/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Festivus stuff will NOT be put up until the day after Thanksgiving.

(Please note: there should be some flexibility here, as Hanukkah and Easter/Passover may vary, but decorations should NOT be hung more then 3 weeks prior to holiday onset).


An alternative plan would be to have a single annual holiday combining all of the above, called St. Christmukahpasseastkwanpatfourthnewfestgivingween. Decorations for the combined holidays may be hung for 30 days prior to this event, and MUST be removed the day after.


Punishment for business owners who violate these laws would be on a 3-step basis:

1st offense: Business license revoked for one month.

2nd offense: Tarred, feathered, and forced to eat fruitcake.

3rd offense: Drawn and quartered, then served with fava beans and a nice chianti.


Yours truly,

Ibee Grumpy, M.D.

(A special THANK YOU to my reader Linda, who sent me this totally awesome picture)

Too Much Information

It's my job to make up the schedule for my call group every 3 months. So, it's that time again.

On Monday I e-mailed the other docs I share call with, asking what weekends/holidays they don't want to be on call for next quarter. So their requests have been coming over the fax.

The last one showed up this morning, neatly typed up by Dr. Brain's secretary.

It said:

"Dr. Brain says he wants to get off on the weekends of October 17, November 8, and December 19."

Random Weirdness

So tonight we made a Costco run to stock up on life essentials like Diet Coke and cookies. Mrs. Grumpy was straight from work, and still in scrubs.

So we're loading up the minivan, and suddenly this wild-eyed lady runs up to us.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" I'm always afraid this is going to be one of my patients, but she ignored me and went straight after Mrs. Grumpy (who was wrestling with a bag of dogfood).

Mrs. Grumpy: "Uh, can I help you?"

Ms. Wildpsycho: "Yes! Please! Do you work at Local Hospital?"

Mrs. Grumpy: "Uh, no..."

Ms. Wildpsycho: "Where do you work! What do you do! Please! Tell me!"

Mrs. Grumpy: "I'm a school nurse."

Ms. Wildpsycho: "JESUS FREAKING CHRIST! YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY NO HELP TO ME AT ALL, ARE YOU?!!! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT?!!!"

She stomped off.

I tossed the dogfood in the car.

WTF?

Thanks for the Co-pay. Go Home.

I was seeing this lady in her 30's today. She has migraines and neck pain. Fine.

So I offered her some Imitrex: "No! That's a migraine drug! I don't want that on my insurance record! That will raise my rates!"

So I recommended pain meds and/or muscle relaxants: "No! I've worked for insurance companies! If they see that on my record, I'll NEVER be able to get insurance! Ever!"

So I suggested she try physical therapy: "No! Never! Once they see I've been to physical therapy, I'll never be able to get coverage!"

Okay, Whatever.

Two issues, ma'am:

1. If you are so afraid of your insurance company finding out about your health, THEN WHY ARE YOU HERE, USING YOUR POLICY IN THE FIRST PLACE?

2. I'm pretty sure that your 3-PACK-A-DAY cigarette habit is going have a bigger impact on your health and premiums than ANY of my treatments ever will.

Just some thoughts. Have a nice day.

My Daily Dose of Sympathy

Yesterday afternoon I was seeing a lady who'd called for an emergency work-in for her back pain.

Dr. Grumpy: "So, how did you hurt your back?"

Mrs. Snob: "My cleaning woman left me. Just left me. I've had the same cleaning woman for 10 years. So on Sunday I had to clean the whole damn house myself. And I wrenched my back. I've always had a bad back, that's why I have a cleaning woman. Then, yesterday, my husband and I were at a funeral, and there was no place to sit. You'd think they could have chairs or something. And standing for the whole thing made my back even worse."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm sorry to hear that. Was it a relative's funeral?"

Mrs. Snob: "No, it was the cleaning woman's."


I was surprised she even went.