Scintillating conversation

Tonight Mrs. Grumpy and I were sitting on a bench at a local park, listening to a band. A group of teenagers went by, and we heard this discussion:


Dude A: "So like, you go to North High?"

Dude B: "Yeah."

Dude A: "I go to Central. What's it like at North?"

Dude B: "We have, like, students and teachers and stuff. Classes, too."

Dude A: "That's cool."

Need nutrition? Got fungus? No problem!

I'd like to thank my reader Boris for submitting this oddity.

On-call food

You guys have heard me bitch about the miserable sleep-deprived, food-deprived, caffeine-deprived condition called "being on-call" that us docs live through.

I describe things best with words. My esteemed colleague Fizzy, however, draws pictures. And for those of you who, after reading my blog, still don't understand the state of desperate insanity that being on-call causes, I present Fizzy's recent, very accurate, pictorial description.

(click to enlarge)

Can't argue with that

Mr. Klumsy: "I hurt my back when I fell down."

Dr. Grumpy: "What made you fall down?"

Mr. Klumsy: "I don't know. Gravity, I guess."

Attention patients!

I have nothing against dogs. I have 3 of them. I am a dog person.

And I really don't mind if you bring a small dog to the hospital to comfort a sick person.

But if you do, and a neurologist comes in the room to round, please try to restrain Li'l Cujo when he lunges across the room, barking and growling, to take a piece out of my ankle.

Fortunately, it stopped bleeding quickly, and a band-aid covered it.

Please fax your "harmless little cuddly-wuddly's" rabies shot records to my office today.

Mary's Desk, April 29, 2010

"No, ma'am, your Local Grocery Shopper's Club card is NOT an acceptable form of paying your doctor visit co-pay, nor does it get you any sort of discount here."

Mind reading

Dr. Grumpy: "Do you get nauseous when you have a headache?"

Mr. Apap: "I don't know. You're the professional here."

Evolution in reverse

Cell phones, and our love/hate relationship with them, are a popular blog topic. Rude patients/customers/doctors who conduct routine calls solely to inconvenience those around them are a popular gripe topic. But that aspect of the damn things isn't what I'm bitching about today.


Millions of years have gone into humans figuring out how to survive danger and carry on the species. But modern technology has turned the clock backwards on this.

In the 1980's video cameras become cheap and widely available. Suddenly, instead of frantically running away from tornadoes, every bozo suddenly felt the need to stop and shoot movies of them, hoping to get 5 minutes of fame on the local news. I'm not talking about trained stormchasers here. These were always local yokels in a car, with their terrified kids screaming in the background, who pulled over to get some once-in-a-lifetime shots of an oncoming funnel cloud as it destroys their house. Nice work.

Similar videos popped up with every earthquake. "Hey! The house is shaking! I'm gonna film this for a minute, then check on the kids!"

But the phenomenon has gotten worse with the invention of the cell phone camera.

Besides the obvious dangers of distracted driving, now every disaster is accompanied by people frantically whipping out cell phones. Some take pictures of it. Others feel it's a great time to call friends. "Yeah, the building is on fire. You wouldn't believe it. I should probably leave soon. How was the poker game last night?"

It's obvious to anyone that you can run faster if you swing BOTH arms. So if you're running for your life, it would seem counter-intuitive to swing only one. Right? Now let's look at this screen shot from CNN earlier this year, of people fleeing aftershocks of the Chilean earthquake.




Yup. Both of them are running, and talking into cell phones (not to mention the person who stopped to take their picture).

"Yeah, It's a bad aftershock. I hope it doesn't knock over the cell phone transmitter antenna. If it does, I don't know how I'll be able to call Marta to tell her about the aftershocks."

Imagine you're a prehistoric man in a cave. Suddenly a saber-toothed tiger walks in. Your reaction, sensibly, is going to be either to run like hell or find a club. Somewhere along the line our intelligence allowed us to survive these encounters.

But nowadays people are different (I'd like to thank my reader, Lee, for sending this):


'A bobcat walks into a bar . . .'
March 27, 2009, 6:55 p.m.
The Arizona Republic

COTTONWOOD, Arizona- A bobcat walked into a roadside bar in Cottonwood.

What happened next was not a joke but "pandemonium," two or three minutes of chivalry, cell phone cameras and people jumping on top of pool tables to get out of the way. When it was over, two people were scratched and bleeding, and the rabid bobcat was killed by police in a parking lot on Main Street.

At about 11:40, three people walked out of the Chaparral, a neighborhood bar with signs for Schlitz, Budweiser and Coors over the entrance. Tuesday is free-pool night.

"I said good night," said bartender Scott Hughes, 41. "Next thing I know, they are running back in, followed by a bobcat. One jumped on the pool table, and two more jumped onto the bar."

The bobcat chased two people around a pool table. That's when people took out their cell-phone cameras to get a picture.

People talk about the degradation of morals and the end of society. Hell, we've survived a lot, and I'm not worried about political hysteria from either side.

But sheer stupidity is another issue.

Wednesday night, 6:49 p.m.

"Hi, this is Hank Bozo. I just found an old message on my cell phone reminding me to come to my appointment with Dr. Grumpy on March 19. Can someone please call me back and let me know if I showed up for it, and if I did, what we decided to do. If I didn't show up for it, I want to make another appointment. Thank you."

Dim bulb

Dr. Grumpy: "Any chance you might be pregnant?"

Miss: Notbright (whipping out cell phone): "I don't know. Let me call my mom and ask her."

Dear Drug Company,

I'm sure Cimzia is a good drug.

And, since patients have to inject it into themselves, I think it's great that you put together a demo kit to teach them how to do it.

I can understand that your demo kits don't have the real drug in them. I mean, this is an expensive monoclonal antibody with a short shelf life. You don't want it sitting in a doctor's cabinet collecting dust. So it makes sense to have a non-drug demo for teaching purposes.

There are a lot ways this could have been labeled. Like "does not contain real drug" or "do not inject the demo product" or "for demonstration only, do not inject."

But, in all honesty, putting "not for use in humans" on the demo drug's packaging IS NOT going to inspire patient confidence in your product.

Another day, another...

Dr. Grumpy: "How are your seizures doing?"

Mr. Shakin: "I've had 3 in the last few months."

Dr. Grumpy: "What Depakote dose are you on?"

Mr. Shakin: "I'm not taking anything."

Dr. Grumpy: "What! Why not?"

Mr. Shakin: "I ran out of pills in February."

Dr. Grumpy: "Let me look... In January you called to ask me to mail you a 90 day script, and I did."

Mr. Shakin: "Oh. I never got it. So I ran out."

Dr. Grumpy: "WHAT?!!! How come you didn't tell me? Why didn't you call me to ask for a new script?"

Mr. Shakin: "I didn't know I was supposed to."

Mary, come shoot me. Now.

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

Mr. Skin: "Yeah, that one that gives me a rash."

Dr. Grumpy: "Do you know what it's called?"

Mr. Skin: "No, but I'm not taking it anymore."

Dr. Grumpy: "What medication are you taking now?"

Mr. Skin: "The one that doesn't give me a rash."

Naked Terror

Quick! What is It?




Looks like a soap dispenser, huh? WRONG!

It's actually a battery-powered shower-cleaning device that sprays foaming suds around your shower after you're done. Of course, I know that NOW. I didn't know it yesterday.

While I was on call this weekend, Mrs. Grumpy installed one in our shower, and didn't mention it to me.

So yesterday morning, I was showering away in the dark (I get up early, and shower in the dark so the lights don't wake up the kids). In the dim glow of the night-lite I noticed this gadget hanging there, looking suspiciously like a soap dispenser. So, to lather up, I pressed the big blue button on the front, and put my hand under it.

Nothing came out. Instead the thing began beeping REALLY LOUD.

BEEP!

Holy shit! What the fuck kind of a soap dispenser is this?

BEEP!

Crap! Why is it beeping? It's going to wake up everybody! How the hell do I make it stop?

BEEP!

Fuck! There has to be a button or switch or something to turn it off! I'll press the blue button again!

BEEP!

That didn't do anything. Shit, I can't see if there's another button to make it stop!

I leaned forward, feeling it all over to try and find a switch.

BEEP!

After the 5th BEEP! the little blue thing on the bottom suddenly spun around, spraying shower-cleaning foamy stuff in a circle around it, covering the shower, the tiles, and my eyes, which were about 2 inches in front of it as I frantically tried to find a way to make it stop beeping.

It burned like hell. I screamed and fell backwards, and some shampoo bottles fell on me with a loud clatter. Snowball started barking. In the panic I tried to get to a sink to wash my eyes out, before I realized that I was already in a shower with water pouring down.

As I rinsed my eyes out the lights went on, and I became aware that I'd woken up the whole house. Wife, kids, dogs, and all.

I'm going to stick with bar soap from now on.