Friday, March 5, 2010

Mary, bring me a sword

Dr. Grumpy: "So did the Painbegone help your migraine?"

Mr. Unsure: "I don't know."

Dr. Grumpy: "Did it make the headache better?"

Mr. Unsure: "Ummm... Maybe?"

Dr. Grumpy: "That doesn't sound very convincing."

Mr. Unsure: "I don't remember."

Dr. Grumpy: "Didn't you just take it yesterday?"

Mr. Unsure: "I think so, umm, yeah."

Dr. Grumpy: "So, after taking Painbegone, did the headache get better? Yes or no?"

Mr. Unsure: "A little of both."

Dr. Grumpy: "What does that mean?"

Mr. Unsure: "It got better eventually."

Dr. Grumpy: "Define eventually."

Mr. Unsure: "At some point I didn't have a headache."

Dr. Grumpy: "How long is 'at some point'?"

Mr. Unsure: "One hour, maybe several more. I didn't pay attention."

Dr. Grumpy: "Was it faster than it normally takes your headaches to get better when you don't take medication?"

Mr. Unsure: "What medication are you talking about? The white pill? Or the tan one?"

Dear Dr. Staff,

Thank you for referring Miss Carpaltunnel for "an abnormal MRI" (at least that's what it said on your referral form). Unfortunately, your office didn't send a copy of the MRI report in advance.

Earlier today I called your staff, asking that you fax over her MRI results before the appointment. Your secretary said she'd do it immediately.

One hour later, we faxed over a release, and Mary called again. Your helpful staff said we'd have it soon.

90 minutes later I called again, and someone said she'd "get right on it."

So I was glad when a fax from your office finally showed up.

Unfortunately, it wasn't her MRI report.

It was her chlamydia test. And it was positive. But I didn't have that kind of interaction with her, I swear.




So, if you guys can find the brain MRI report, please send it over.

Thank you.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

I am humbled

I'm absolutely overwhelmed with your positive responses to my previous post, "Checkout time". Thank you. It's my most commented-on post, ever.

I didn't expect so many would see it from my side.

I'm just one doctor. I can't change the world.

But maybe sending a link to the post to others who DON'T see this side of dying will help more people understand. So if any of you want to, go ahead.

Death touches all of us. Thinking about it in advance won't stop that. But it can help us deal with it better when the time comes.

I was so surprised by your responses that I didn't put up any of my usual stories from the medical trenches. We will return to our regular program format of sarcasm and medical practice idiocy tomorrow.

Checkout time

I'm sure I'll get flamed by somebody over this post, but I've been stewing over this for a few weeks, and just want to say it.

I haven't ever saved a life. No doctor has. We may prolong the inevitable, but we don't save anyone.

We aren't immortal, and weren't meant to be. We die. All things do. Plants, animals, even stars.

Death is as much a part of life as birth.

And yet, at times people chase medical science as if we have immortality in all our gadgets and pills.

Why am I writing this?

A few weeks ago I had a hospital consult on a horrible, awful, sad case. Lady in her 60's with advanced cancer. It had spread through every organ of her body. Brain, lungs, bones, liver, intestines. You name it.

She'd had surgery. And radiation. And chemotherapy. Established treatments. Experimental treatments. Alternative treatments. Her husband had taken her to every major cancer center in the U.S. (using YOUR insurance premiums, of course). And every single one told them there was no hope. So he fired them and moved to the next center.

She landed at my hospital, somehow. Sick as shit. Ended up a ventilator. Tubes in every orifice. Comatose from every body system failing. Suffered a bleed into the brain. Seizures. You name it.

We health care people have seen this stuff a million times before. But my readers who aren't in the field may not have. And trust me, this situation happens A LOT. More than you'd ever believe. The media leaps onto cases like Terri Schiavo as if they were rarities, but in reality cases like this are frighteningly frequent, every day, in every hospital in the country. Really.

And of course, her husband is beyond denial. He's not a bad person, just hears only what he wants to. He has the room covered in family pictures and religious symbols. He tells me his family is hoping for a miracle, and knows it will come.

So who is he REALLY doing this for? Not for her. To the sad shell of what was once a beautiful, vibrant woman what he's doing is more likely some form of torture. She's gone, sir. Elvis has left the building. But he won't hear that, no matter how many doctors, in innumerable ways, and many times, tell him.

Ask yourself: How do you want your life to close down?

How many of you said you want to die incapacitated in a hospital bed, with plastic tubes in your urethra and butt, and down your throat? And another one in your nose? And maybe a 5th one in your abdomen, going directly into your stomach? With IV lines going into veins in both arms, the few veins that haven't already collapsed from repeated IV lines in them. And the tube in your throat keeps forcing air in and out. Does that sound like a comfortable way to end your days?

I'm not, by any means, arguing against critical care. Some people end up like the above, with a realistic plan of recovery. And many do. I'm talking about people where this is done with absolutely no goal other than to drag life out for as many seconds as possible.

And so back to my lady. Me and 4 other docs (neurology, cardiology, pulmonary, renal, and oncology) had a 1 hour meeting with husband and his grown kids. We told them this was futile. That what we were doing to her was prolonging her suffering. They all listened. They accused us of being "too negative". The next day they transferred her to another hospital. So I have no idea what happened after that.

Beyond human suffering and reason, let's look at this in the cold hard facts of money. Yeah, I'm sure you Sarah Palin fans will accuse me of putting a price on human life. But hell, your insurance company already does, whether you want to believe that or not.

This woman's care has cost at least a million dollars here, likely a hell of a lot more. I'm pretty sure this family's premiums don't cover that, and I know they aren't wealthy. So the money is coming from their insurance company, which is YOUR premiums.

So let's say futile care for this woman cost $1.5 million dollars. Would that money be better on helping treat people who had a more reasonable chance at recovery and significant quality of life? Maybe several?

Yeah, this is a slippery slope, and there's no easy answer as to where you draw the line. The military deals with this in battlefield or disaster area conditions, where you put your resources to those who are salvageable, and letting those who aren't die. But you can't say that in the polite world of modern medicine.

But for all the controversy over the phrase "death panels", ask yourself this- are they so unreasonable? In a case like this, should, say, a panel of 3-5 certified doctors in oncology, with no ties to the patient or the insurance, objectively review the the data and say "Stop this madness"? Or maybe determine further treatment would be beneficial?.

If they decide it's futile, I'm not saying that treatment should stop, but at that point the insurance company can end it's involvement and the entire financial burden falls on the family. I suspect that when they realize realistically how much futility costs to torture a loved one, they'll let her go.

Money, unfortunately, is a finite resource. You have to pay hospital staff, and drug costs, and facility electric bills, and supply bills. In a perfect world I could support my family and care for patients for free. But I have a mortgage and kids and bills, too. As do the nurses and other hospital staff.

Balanced against this finite resource is human suffering. Which is infinite. And you can't keep paying unlimited need with limited resources. In any situation.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Annie's Desk, March 3, 2010

Annie often gets sales pitches. When that happens, she has carte blanche from me to do or say whatever she wants. And she does.


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

Donny Dingo: "Hi! This is Donny Dingo! From FubarMED medical software! Can I speak to your office manager?"

Annie: "You got her. How can I help you?"

Donny Dingo: "No, I'd like to help YOU! With our all-purpose electronic medical records system!"

Annie: "No thanks, but can you help me with your screwed up online prescription service? It's a piece of crap."

Donny Dingo: "Yes, I can direct you to someone who knows about that sort of thing. But first, let me send you a link to try our electronic medical record keeping system FOR FREE! ABSOLUTELY FREE!"

Annie: "We don't need one. Dr. Grumpy wrote his own. But we do use your online e-prescribing service, and I'd like to discuss problems with it because..."

Donny Dingo: "That's great! I'm looking forward to working with you guys! What is your office phone number and fax and email, and I'll send you the link!"

Annie: " You already have our phone number, because you called me. You have no clue about the e-prescribing issues, do you?"

Donny Dingo: "I'll get you this info right away! Thank you! Have a nice day!"

Annie: "Can you at least give me a number for the e-prescribing complaint department? Hello?"

(click)

Okay

Mr. Talk: "My speech was fine when this happened, in all the languages I know."

Dr. Grumpy: "How many languages do you speak?"

Mr. Talk: "Just one."

So there!

I'd like to thank the anonymous reader who sent this to me.


Tuesday, March 2, 2010

I'll get you, my pretties! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

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

Ms. West: "Yes, I need to make an appointment."

Mary: "Okay, we can see you tomorrow afternoon... What's your insurance?"

Ms. West: "I have Medicare."

Mary: "I'm sorry, we aren't currently taking any new Medicare patients."

Ms. West: "What? Why not?"

Mary: "The new Medicare cuts went into effect this week and..."

Ms. West: "My internist cut me because of this, too. This is ridiculous. I can't find anyone who takes Medicare!

Mary: "I'm sorry, but..."

Ms. West: "I'm putting a hex on your office."

Mary: "Excuse me?"

Ms. West: "I'm serious. I'm a modern witch, and am putting a hex on your office and..."

Mary: "Good bye." (hangs up)


No, I'm not making this up. This was a first for my practice. And that says a lot.

Tuesday morning whatever

Ms. Ictal: "So I had a seizure 2 weeks ago, and you did the episiotomy last week. What were the results?"

Dr. Grumpy: "You mean the EEG?"

Ms. Ictal: "Whatever, the test that started with an "E". What did it show?"

Monday, March 1, 2010

Monday night, 7:05 p.m.

"Hi, this is Mrs. Ramble calling. I need to make an appointment with Dr. Grumpy, who I think I saw once. It's not for the problem he saw me for then, it's for a new problem, but it's been going on for a while, so it's sort of old. Maybe it is the same problem, I'm not sure. But whatever it is, I think I need to see Dr. Grumpy for it, unless it's the problem I had before, in which case he needs to have a new look at it. So can someone please call me back tomorrow?"

Beating my head on the desk

Dr. Grumpy: "How's the tremor doing with the new medication?"

Mr. Shake: "Pretty good. I mean, some days the tremor is still bad, but on most it's okay."

Dr. Grumpy: "Any connection you've noticed on the days when it's worse? Are you more tired those days? Or drink more coffee? Or..."

Mr. Shake: "Mmm... I guess it's worse on the days when I forget to take the pills."

Yes, I'm juvenile

This invitation to a CME (Continuing Medical Education) course showed up in the weekend mail (I have no idea why there is a gray box instead of a picture. I didn't do that).

(click to enlarge)




For other great MD names, please see this post, and the comments that followed.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Sunday Reruns

Due to a lack of inspiration, and not seeing patients on a Sunday, I'm rerunning this post from April, 2009. It's from back when I had only a few readers, so some of you may not have seen it the first time.



Dr. Grumpy's Guide to Life, Chapter 1


(As a public service I have written the following, for you to print off and use before your next Pump-It-Up party. For those of you who don't have small children, or simply live in a box, Pump-It-Up is a national chain with indoor giant inflatable bouncers to hold kid's birthday parties at).


Congratulations! You've decided to host your child's party at Pump-It-Up.
They and their friends will enjoy it a great deal.

Key things to remember:

1. Going into the giant inflatable bouncing arena to fight your kids with oversized boxing gloves and paddles looks easy. Because of your higher center of gravity, however, you'll quickly find out that you're at a distinct disadvantage. In fact, you will likely get your ass kicked fairly easily by the swarm of 1st graders who will line up for a chance to beat you. Fighting on your knees does not improve the situation, and makes it easier for one of their partners to sneak up and jump on your back.

2. Although adults are welcome to go on all the giant bouncers, they are not adult friendly. In particular, the inflatable obstacle course is a good way to get yourself killed. When a kid claws up the inflatable steps and ladder to both of the slides involved, they have plenty of space to reposition themselves at the top to go down the slide feet first. YOU WON'T, and may find yourself pulling yourself to the top of the ladder, then as you are amazed you made it that far, you'll suddenly pitch forward uncontrollably, going down the slide head first and wrenching your neck at the bottom (which I did). While you're lying there, trying to figure out if you can still move your legs, a friendly teenage attendant will come over to remind you that head-first isn't allowed, and to please not do it again.

The steps in the obstacle course ladders are designed for kids and adult pygmies. You will be lucky to be able to use them as toeholds. Trying to climb them with your feet sideways only helps somewhat.

As you struggle through the obstacle course, you can expect to be passed by several kindergartners, who will wonder why their friend's Dad is so slow.

3. You WILL be injured. At present my neck is still stiff and my left ankle is killing me. I also have multiple bruises from falls and being stepped on, and several knee and elbow scrapes. When you first enter the facility and fill out the forms about how many kids you have with you and how many pizzas and bottles of pop you want, I recommend you give them a card listing your insurance coverage, hospital preference, and blood type.

4. Do not feed yourself or your kids a large meal before going unless you wish to spend some of the bouncer time you paid for watching a friendly teenage attendant clean Taco Bell out of a bouncer.

5. If one of the fun-loving kids traps you inside something by turning off the air compressor, don't panic. Before you asphyxiate from vinyl a friendly teenage attendant will turn it back on again, then lecture you not to do it again.

Enjoy! You just paid a fortune for your injuries!

If you follow these simple precautions, you will likely live to see your child's next birthday party - which will also be held at Pump-it-Up.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Saturday hot tub reading

Okay, sitting in the hot tub with Marie today, and catching up my journals. This afternoon I learned that:

Patients taking 2 pain medications have less pain then patients taking only 1 pain medication (The Lancet (2009; 374: 1252-1261).

For my fellow U.S. citizens who are convinced that only our country wastes money on this stuff, the study was paid for by the Canadian Institutes of Health Research.

This is not meant as a slight to my northern colleagues, but simply to point out that pointless research is a universal human trait. If our prehistoric brethren had journals, I'm sure they'd have studies on how wood held in the air is easier to light on fire than wood being held underwater.
 
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