Dear Mrs. Thoughtthatcounts,

I just wanted to write and thank you for the tray of homemade chocolate brownies that you brought my office last week.

I'm well aware of your fondness for improvising new recipes, and the staff and I appreciate you telling us which brownies had jalapeños in them, which had bacon, and which had both.

As always, you've outdone yourself. Many of us here thought you'd never be able to top your 2007 tray of chili-pepper-and-white-chocolate-cookies, but we underestimated you and your fondness for spicy foods.

As you can imagine, your unique brownies didn't last long in our breakroom, and quickly disappeared.

You work so hard in the kitchen around the holidays, perhaps next year you should take a break and just rest. You've earned it.

Yours truly,

Ibee Grumpy, M.D.

My readers write

I'd like to thank my reader Brian, who submitted this story. For my non-medical readers, NPO is medspeak meaning "no food, water, or pills orally". Advair is a drug that's INHALED.


Hi Dr. Grumpy! I'm a pharmacist at an academic medical center. Tonight I received a phone call from a surgical resident.

Dr. Surgistud: "My patient is NPO for surgery and is on Synthroid. Is there an IV formulation and what is the conversion?"

Brian, RPh: "Yes, it's 50% of the oral dose."

Dr. Surgistud: "OK, great. And also - the patient is on Advair. I need to change him to Levalbuterol and Atrovent, right?"

Brian, RPh: "Um... no. Those are different drugs. Why do you want to change the Advair?"

Resident: "Because the patient is NPO."

Hope you got a good laugh out of that... all of my colleagues did!

Loose playlists sink ships... or something like that

Ya know, given the ease with which a guy was apparently able to walk on a plane with a bunch of explosives last week, some of the other measures seem somewhat out of place.

For example, when I was accused of contributing to terrorism a few months back.

So this morning I'm updating my iTunes software. A friend had told me about this a while back, but I'd never looked for it before today (hell, who actually reads the consents that come with software updates?). But, there it was.

I direct you to item #10 of the iTunes update agreement.

(click to enlarge)




I really love the last line. "You also agree that you will not use these products for any purposes prohibited by United States law, including, without limitation, the development, design, manufacture, or productions of missiles, or nuclear, chemical, or biological weapons."

I freely admit that my taste in music doesn't suit everyone (Mrs. Grumpy hates it), but I think the most that could be said is that my iPod constitutes a weapon of mass good taste destruction.

December 26, 2009

Dr. Grumpy: "FRANK, CRAIG, MARIE GET IN HERE NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

(shifting feet, poor eye contact)

Dr. Grumpy: "Why on Earth are you all jumping on the trampoline, in cold weather, NAKED????"

"I told you we'd get in trouble!" "Well, it was your idea!" "Wuz not."

Dr. Grumpy: "ANSWER ME."

(quick glances back and forth)

"Um, they all fell off."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm not stupid."

"No, really, we were jumping hard and the bouncing made them..."

Dr. Grumpy: "I said I'm not stupid."

"We were out on the trampoline and wanted to play dodge ball."

Dr. Grumpy: "So why were you all naked?"

"Because we didn't want to go find a ball, so we used our clothes to throw at each other."

Dr. Grumpy: "Do you have any idea how cold it is outside?"

"Yeah, um, but not until we were naked. Then it seemed pretty cold."

Dr. Grumpy: "Frank, where are your clothes?"

"Because Marie is a bad loser. After she lost, she threw my clothes over the fence."

Traditions of Christmas

The morning after Christmas I got dragged in to the hospital to see a guy for headaches.

He kept referring to he and his wife as having "a traditional Christmas", which apparently landed him in the hospital. "Traditional" obviously varies from person to person. Here is how Mr. Traditional and his wife spent their traditional Christmas (and it took A LOT of coaxing to get the whole story out).

They woke up on Christmas morning. Then:

They had a traditional cup of coffee. Then:

They had a traditional exchange of gifts. Then:

They had several traditional shots of scotch. Then:

They smoked a few traditional joints. Then:

They did a few traditional lines of cocaine. Then:

She gave him a traditional under-the-mistletoe blowjob. Then:

When he blew his traditional load he had sudden onset of the-worst-headache-of-his-life (not a tradition).

He was taken to ER, where he had a traditional head CT, MRI, and MRA (having to drag in an MRI tech on Christmas).

So then he had a traditional spinal tap. Which was equivocal, because he wouldn't hold still.

So then the angiogram team got called in on Christmas.

So then he had a traditional 4-vessel cerebral angiogram, complicated by bleeding and a BIG hematoma at the groin puncture site (yeah, your wife's gonna love that thing next to your yule log, dude).

The admitting doc then felt a second traditional spinal tap was needed.

And that's how Mr. Traditional spent his Christmas.

When I met him (and his charming wife) this morning he asked me if I'd ever seen a case like this before.

I gave him my traditional answer. You guys can guess.

More Dragonisms

Okay, for Christmas I thought I'd give you guys some Dragonisms.

(What is a Dragonism?)


Dr. Grumpy said: "She's had bilateral breast augmentations."
The computer typed: "She's had bilateral breast amputations."


Dr. Grumpy said: "Since the stroke he's taken Plavix."
The computer typed: "Since the stroke he's taken buttocks."


Dr. Grumpy said: "Flexeril helps her back pain."
The computer typed: "Sex oral helps her back pain."


Dr. Grumpy said: "The ophthalmologist is treating his corneal abrasion."
The computer typed: "The ophthalmologist is treating his toenail infection."


Dr. Grumpy said: "I'll see her back for the tests."
The computer typed: "I'll see her back for the tits."


Dr. Grumpy said: "He has circumoral paresthesias"
The computer typed: "He has immoral paresthesias"


Dr. Grumpy said: "When the neck pain worsened, she went to a chiropractor."
The computer typed: "When the neck pain worsened, she went to a car repair."


Dr. Grumpy said: "She has Ambien to help her sleep."
The computer said: "She has Indians to help her sleep."


Dr. Grumpy said: "After the fall he had a right knee arthroscopy."
The computer said: "After the fall he had a right knee atrocity."


Dr. Grumpy said: "She has migraines with phonophobia."
The computer said: "She has migraines with porno phobia"

Holiday Reruns

(For those of you who missed it the first time around, the following was my post for Christmas, 2008)

The following message was left on my office voicemail last night (December 24th) at around 8:30 p.m., by a pharmacist who was obviously less than enthusiastic about having to work on Christmas eve.

"Hello, I'm calling from Local Pharmacy about a refill for Dr. Grumpy. It's on patient Mrs. Smith, for her Cartia. The idiot's at her nursing home didn't realize she was all out until 5 minutes ago, and then were stupid enough to think they could just waltz down here
and get more. But no, there were no refills.

"So if someone could please call me to refill this, this bunch of bozos at the care home want it tonight. And I'll be here, tonight, on Christmas Eve, at Local Pharmacy, all damn night. so you can reach me whenever you call. My name is Joy. Thank you."

December 24, 2009. Tis the season

Oh, 2 tomatoes, and some paper plates? No problem. Let me get my car keys.

Crap, Local Grocery is mobbed. Hey, bitch! Don't flip me off! I wasn't even looking at that parking space. Chill.

Merry Christmas, Mr. Salvation Army dude. My only cash is $3, but I'll gladly put it in your kettle.

What a fucking mob scene. Hey! Don't push me! I didn't even want the last shopping cart! I'm just here for some damn tomatoes, lady. Merry Christmas.

Hi, it's me. I have the tomatoes. What brand of paper plates do you want? No, it looks like they're out of those. Okay, I'll get Chinet. Says they're made from recycled paper. Hope it's not toilet paper.

No, Mr. Salvation Army. I gave you my last $3 on the way in. Remember? Merry Christmas.

Hello? No, just leaving. Lettuce? Yeah, hang on. I can go back. Looks like some guy in a Santa hat is yelling at the Salvation Army guy for blocking the door, but security is leading Santa away now. Shit, somebody took my parking space as soon as I pulled out. Let me find another one.

Sorry, Mr. McDonald's manager. I didn't realize this space was for McD's customers only. It's not marked that way. I'll move my car, don't worry. Merry Christmas.

Mr. Salvation Army, it's me again. I had to come back. You have my $3 already.

Lettuce... hey, stockperson, whatever sex you are, where's the lettuce? You only have 3 heads left? Wow. I had no idea there'd be such a rush on iceberg for Christmas. Well, this one looks like it's been dropped the least.

It's a self-checkout. Look, I don't recognize you as one of my Alzheimer's patients, but you obviously are not grasping how to work this thing. So go over to the cashier and check-out the old fashioned way. I think she's one of my dementia patients, so I'm sure you'll have a lot to talk about while you hold up that line.

What the fuck! It's not taking my credit card! All I want is one fucking head of bruised iceberg lettuce!

WhatdoyoumeanthefuckingcreditcardsystemhascrashedbecauseeveryotherlastminuteloserinAmericaistryingtousetheircreditcardrightnow?

How long will that take?

NO! I DON'T HAVE ANY FUCKING CASH! I GAVE MY LAST 3 DOLLARS TO THE FUCKING SALVATION ARMY GUY! IF I HAD ANY CASH DO YOU THINK I'D BE WASTING MY TIME TRYING TO PUT A SINGLE $1.29 HEAD OF LETTUCE ON A FUCKING CREDIT CARD?!!

Well, fine. I'll go over to the ATM across the parking lot. Look at that line and NO, YOU BELL-RINGING ASSHOLE! YOU ALREADY HAVE MY $3! IF I HADN'T PUT IT IN YOUR FUCKING KETTLE I'D HAVE BEEN HOME BY NOW!

This is the line for the ATM? There are 5 freaking ATM's here? Oh, great, the other 4 are all out of cash due to the Christmas rush. Fine, I'll wait.

Hello? No, I'm in line at an ATM. I need to get cash to buy lettuce and... Because I gave it to the Salvation Army guy, that's why! Look, it's taking longer than I thought!

NO, MR. SALVATION ARMY! I just got this $20 out of the ATM after waiting for 15 minutes, because I gave you my last $3 and now the credit card machine is broken, and if you approach me again I'm going to shove that fucking bell up your ass.

YOU SOLD MY FUCKING BRUISED HEAD OF LETTUCE TO SOMEBODY ELSE? ARE THERE ANY LEFT? NO? CALL THE FUCKING MANAGER!!!

Fine I'll take this bag of salad instead, but it better be for the original $1.29. Merry Christmas.

Don't even think about it, Mr. Bell Ringing Salvation Army Guy.

When I got home Mrs. Grumpy told me she'd just found an extra head of lettuce in the refrigerator. She'd forgotten she'd bought one yesterday and put it in the produce drawer.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Healthy Living

Okay, my office is closed today, but I'm working at home, doing some marketing reviews online.

One company had me watch a television commercial in development for a new Parkinson's Disease treatment, which featured patients explaining how the disease interfered with their ability to do things they enjoyed.

One of them, I swear, was a lady explaining how, because of her Parkinson's Disease, she'd had to stop smoking, and showed a "before" clip of her trying to light a cigarette with her hand shaking all over.

Then she went on about how with new drug ParkieMiracle her coordination had improved so that SHE'D BEEN ABLE TO START SMOKING AGAIN, and showed her happily puffing away.

This ad agency really needs to be fired, or find some better examples.

More Gift Ideas

Last one for the year, for you last minute shoppers.

I'll generally ignore a few small holes in my undies, but when they become too far gone I just go to Costco and buy a bunch.

Apparently, though, this idea is too simple for others...

Augh!!!!!!!!

This message was left on the office voicemail over lunch hour:

"Hi. I have a gray pill, with 10 on one side and nothing on the other. I have no idea what it is, but I got it at Medco. It's for my husband and we only have 3 left. Call me right away."

Dear Dr. Dumpster,

I appreciate you sending Mr. Etoh to my practice.

We had an appointment scheduled for him, but after further review of your notes I cancelled it, as I feel seeing him at this time won't be possible.

It was very helpful that you sent his MRI reports, and the EMG findings, and the list of medications he'd tried in the past.

But most helpful was the handwritten note (and I recognize your handwriting) on the last page of the fax, which simply stated "December 14, 2009. Mr. Etoh came to appointment inebriated and punched receptionist. Police notified, patient fired from practice. Told to see a neurologist, given Dr. Grumpy's name."

Anyway, it looks like I'm not currently accepting his insurance, whatever it is (even if it's cash), and have referred him to my former colleagues at Humungous Neurology, Inc.

Wishing you a Merry Christmukah,

Ibee Grumpy, M.D.

Hey! This sausage tastes like... uh, chicken?

More fun at drug rep lunches:


Mr. Pharmastud: "I brought pepperoni and sausage pizzas, I hope you like them. I don't like the other kind myself."

Dr. Grumpy: "What other kind?"

Mr. Pharmastud: "The ones with only veggies. Veterinarian style."

Dr. Grumpy: "You mean vegetarian."

Mr. Pharmastud: "Um, yeah".

More Gift Ideas

What's more exciting than Formula 1, Indy Car, and Nascar racing?

Why elderly-patient-in-a-wheelchair-on-Aricept racing, of course! Rev that wheelchair, squeal those tires, and rocket down the hall to the day room for some serious pottery lessons!

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