Wednesday afternoon rounds

Dr. Testosterone: "You paged me?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Yeah, I saw Mr. Trauma, who you consulted me on, and I'm just trying to get an idea of why you called me."

Dr. Testosterone: "Which patient was this?"

Dr. Grumpy: "He was riding his bike and was hit by a drunk driver, and suffered multiple fractures."

Dr.Testosterone: "Oh, yeah. I want your input as to why he fell off the bike. Did he have a seizure, or balance problem, or something like that?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Uhh... Your dictation says he fell off because he was hit by a car!"

Dr. Testosterone: "So? My dictation doesn't mean anything."

Dumpster diving with Dr. Grumpy

After 10 years of faithful service, our office credit card machine won't be supported in 2011. Apparently some sort of new gadget is required. So I ordered one last week, and it came over the weekend.

Monday was a pretty frantic afternoon here, and Mary had to leave 15 minutes early to meet with her son's teacher. Since I was done with patients, and to procrastinate on dictations, I pulled out the old machine and installed the new, shiny, credit card gadget.

I tested it (it works) and on the way home tossed the old machine in the environmentally-friendly electronic recycling dumpster at Local Electronics Store.

So Tuesday morning Mary comes in, and runs back to my office. She looked frantic.


Mary: "Where's the old machine?!"

Dr. Grumpy: "I installed the new one last night."

Mary: "WHERE'S THE OLD MACHINE?!!!"

Dr. Grumpy: "I put it in the recycling dumpster down the street."

Mary: "I DIDN'T BATCH OUT AND CLEAR IT LAST NIGHT! I WAS IN A HURRY AND FIGURED I'D DO IT THIS MORNING!!!"

Dr. Grumpy: "Calm down, I mean, how much could be in it? 10 or 20 bucks?"

Mary: "$458!!!

Dr. Grumpy: "WHAT?!!!"

Mary: "You had a few cash-pay patients yesterday, and..."

Dr. Grumpy: "Is my first one here yet?"

Mary: "No."


I grabbed my coat and yelled to Pissy's staff we'd be back in a few minutes. Mary and I ran to my car, and drove over to the dumpster.

Someone had left the lid open overnight, and so there was snow on the pile of computer monitors, old hard drives, iPods, and cell phones. In conduct unbecoming a neurologist, I climbed into the dumpster and frantically dug through the snow (forgot my gloves at the office, too). Several downtown homeless people stopped to watch, and one kindly yelled that there weren't any cans in there.

I found the machine, tossed it to Mary, climbed out, and we sped back to the office.

While I was with the first patient Mary transmitted billing from the old doodad and wiped its memory.

My patient asked why I didn't have my usual Diet Coke on my desk. I told her I didn't need it.

Matching microbiology

After you've handled the putter in the previous gift, you should definitely wash your hands. So you may want bacterial-themed soaps from this site.

We at Grumpy Neurology, Inc. recommend good hygiene!

Today's featured gift

I know there are golf fanatics out there, who live to play.

But sometimes you can't get out to the course. Maybe the weather is bad. Or you're just too busy at work. Or you can't get a decent tee time.

And that's where this next gift comes in.

(click to enlarge)





Yes, it's a miniature golf course for your bathroom. It includes a putter, 2 balls (besides your own, guys) and a "Do Not Disturb" sign. I suppose you should also spring for some Clorox wipes to clean the putter between rounds.

Holiday travel tips

Attention potheads!

If you want to travel with marijuana and associated paraphernalia by plane, that's your business.

I'm sure there are many creative ways to try and keep airport security from noticing it.

HOWEVER disguising your marijuana grinder as a freakin' hand grenade isn't one of them!

Like this guy.

Thank you, Michelle!

Okey-Dokey

Mr. Acei: "I have terrible back problems."

Dr. Grumpy: "What kind of symptoms do you have?"

Mr. Acei: "My blood pressure goes up."

Dr. Grumpy: "But where does your back hurt?"

Mr. Acei: "My back feels fine."

Dr. Grumpy: "Then why do you say you have back problems?"

Mr. Acei: "What else could make my blood pressure go up?"

Is there a doctor on board?

Now I, Dr. Grumpy, consider myself a reasonably good neurologist. And I stay in my comfort zone. I don't try to treat chest pain, snotty noses, or dogs.

And, unless I really had no other options, would definitely NOT pretend to be able to fly a plane.

But Captain William Hamman, a senior jumbo jet captain for United Airlines, has apparently been doing both. He really is a pilot.

At the same time (sort of like in Catch Me If You Can) he's been passing himself off as a doctor. Not just any doctor, but a cardiologist. And he's done training courses for the AMA, American College of Caridiology, and FAA. He's done CME lectures at accredited training programs.

Guess what? After many years of doing this, he turns out not to be a doctor at all! He never did residency, or fellowship. He briefly attended medical school in the late 1970's, but dropped out and never graduated.

And it took 30 freakin' years for someone to realize this!

Here's the story.

Thank you, Don.

Today's featured gift

Do you have neck problems? Do you need more support under your head? Are you looking for a way to strangle yourself, but don't know how to tie a noose?

Well, look no further!




Here we have a gadget that you simply strap around your neck and gradually pump up until it reaches the level of asphyxiation and/or comfort desired.

We at Grumpy Neurology, Inc. DO NOT recommend that you have another person inflate this for you. Especially if they are your ex-spouse, or someone who will benefit from your life insurance policy.

On call- Live the adventure

A nurse called me yesterday because a patient was getting worse, fast. So I ordered a STAT CT scan of her head.

So Ms. Nurse asked if I wanted just a head CT, or a if I'd prefer to do a "Stroke Alert!".

This was a new one to me. She explained that a "Stroke Alert!" is a new protocol developed by my hyperactive colleague, Dr. Nerve. When a "Stroke Alert!" is ordered they automatically do a head CT, EKG, a few labs, and call a Nurse Practitioner who's in the hospital to come assess the patient.

So I said what the hell. Let's do a "Stroke Alert!". She said she'd take care of it, and got off the phone.

Roughly 3 minutes later my cell phone rings again. It's the clerk for that floor.

Dr. Grumpy: "This is Dr. Grumpy."

Mr. Clerk: "Yes, I'm calling to tell you that there's a Stroke Alert! in progress in room 52."

Dr. Grumpy: "Um, yes... I ordered it."

Mr. Clerk: "Well, the protocol says we have to immediately notify the neurologist on call for all Stroke Alert! situations."

Dr. Grumpy: "Even if the neurologist is the same person who just ordered it?"

Mr. Clerk: "Look, I'm just following the protocol."

Yet more gifts

Hi, Zuktar the Mighty here, penning a guest column for Dr. G's gift guide.

In the good old days, after vanquishing an opponent, we would celebrate by drinking from their skull. Sure, they leaked a little, and were tricky to grip, but they could hold a lot of wine or espresso, and made a decent insulated container if the coffee were too hot.

But for a modern barbarian, things are different. I mean, that block party tends to empty early if you put skulls next to the punch bowl. And if you hold up a skull at Starbucks and ask the barrista to pour your latte in there, you get some funny looks. Once she collapsed, though luckily a guy dressed as Elvis ran in and saved her.

So what's a 21st century barbarian doing a pencil-pushing desk job to do? Well, fortunately there are options. I can get pen holders made from vertebrae and femurs. These handsome accessories make any desk special.

Particularly when your new boss realizes what happened to the last person who didn't give you a raise.

Click to enlarge

Gifts for the ladies

Diamonds, pearls, and emeralds are so passé and 20th century. Buying jewelry in this era can be such a challenge.
What is it that the modern lady wants as an adornment? Why a necklace with carefully preserved anatomical sections from a bull's penis and testicles of course!

If bull gonads aren't your thing, you can also get pieces of horses and ducks, too.

Of course, some woman prefer bracelets or earrings when displaying dead animals in plastic. Fortunately, you can look here for other tasteful options. Just click on the subcategories.

Stop the presses! Shocking medical research!

Getting hit in the head likely isn't good for you.

Getting in the head repeatedly is probably even worse.

And getting hit hard enough to make you lose consciousness is assumed to be really bad.

Of course, as always, somebody felt the need to prove this. So they studied boxers and found that (GASP!) getting hit in the head repeatedly is bad for you!

Here's the article.

Thank you, Cherie.

Dear Health Monitor magazine,

Thank you for the letter that came this week asking me to remove your pulp rag magazine from my lobby.

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A couple points I'd like to make:

1. Your magazine came in freakin' MAY! There's no way my awesome office staff would have left it out there until December to read, anyway.

2. In fact, there's no way it would have made it to the lobby at all. It went into recycling shortly after it arrived. My patients prefer reading "People", "Sports Illustrated", and "Better Homes and Trailers".

3. I'm kind of sorry now that I did toss them, as I'd like to know what sort of "advertiser error" would lead you to recall it 6 months after the fact. Please feel free to comment if it's something juicy.

4. (MOST IMPORTANT). There is a DAMN good reason your magazine should have been recalled (or never published in the first place). The issue in question is the one I already featured on this blog because of the wild-eyed, Haldol-deprived, migraine patient you had on the cover!!!

Yours truly,

Ibee Grumpy, M.D.

Biting my tongue

Mr. Bright: "I had a brain MRI."

Dr. Grumpy: "Do you have the report?"

Mr. Bright: "No. That's personal information. Why would you need that?"

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm the brain doctor."

Mr. Bright: "You are? Oh, I thought you were a neurologist."

Dr. Grumpy: "I am. Brains are what a neurologist does."

Mr. Bright: "Oh. Well, my regular doctor said it showed nothing."

My inner voice: "I'm sure it did."