Reliable sources

Mrs. Popliteal: "I've been having terrible pain in my knee. It needs an MRI."

Dr. Grumpy: "Hmmm. Have you talked to your internist about this?"

Mrs. Popliteal: "No, I talked to this lady at the Post Office."

Dr. Grumpy: "A lady at the..."

Mrs. Popliteal: "She was wearing a knee brace, so she must have known what she was talking about. Anyway, she said I need an MRI. Will you order one?"

Sounds right

Mr. Vague: "My mom died of vascular disease."

Dr. Grumpy: "What kind?"

Mr. Vague: "I don't know. The bad kind, I guess."

Oh no! Not BOTH!

I found this entry, presumably from the Department of Redundancy Department, in a hospital note this morning.

(click to enlarge)

Flattery

Mary: "Okay, your co-pay for today's visit is $50."

Mr. Aetna: "No, my co-pay is $25."

Mary: "It's $25 for your internist, sir. According to your card, a specialist, like Dr. Grumpy, is $50."

Pause

Mr. Aetna: "Here's $25. He wasn't that special."

Always in fashion

I'm ordering supplies this morning, and found this picture in the online catalog.





I just love the way they try to make the flimsy white paper gown look sexy. Maybe they should add a caption that says "Perfect for work, cocktail parties, and medical exams."

Today's criminal tip

When planning a burglary, you may need to ask your friends for help.

Or your family for help.

But, whatever you do, DON'T ASK THE COPS FOR HELP!!!

Homework

This weekend Craig had to read a chapter on world hunger, and answer a few questions on it.

So I was checking to make sure he'd done it, and encountered this:

"What are some causes of world hunger?"

He'd written: "In those countries they don't have stuff like pizza and hamburgers. They only eat gross food, and who wants that?"

Weekend Reruns

Dear Mr. I. M. A. "Rich" Azzhole III,

I'm sorry about the way things went at your appointment yesterday. I guess you and I just didn't have great chemistry.

I can understand you being frustrated with me. Obviously, a man of your means is used to people kissing his ass constantly. But here at Grumpy Neurology, it doesn't buy you much. Let's face it, Medicare pays me the same amount to put up with you as it pays me to put up with Mr. Nice Butpoor. If you were paying me $1000/hour to listen to your stories about the yacht club I might be more inclined to do so. But I'm only going to get Medicare's flat $115 for you, and my billing company gets 10% of that, and I have to pay Mary, Annie, my rent, the Diet Coke bill, and my malpractice insurance out of the rest.

Anyway, we were obviously off to a bad start when you told Mary that your regular doctor (who you pay cash to) dresses up for you. And this was before you even had a look at me. You also were not happy that, when you asked Mary what kind of refreshments we offer for waiting patients, she pointed to the water cooler.

I SO enjoyed being grilled over my credentials. I really am a doctor, I swear, not some homeless person who decided to rent an office, hire some staff, and buy some cheap office furniture just for the hell of it. You were clearly not impressed that I went through public schooling most of my life. Of course I've heard of your alma mater, but it was so much more fun to watch the horrified expression on your face when I pretended I hadn't, and then asked you if it was in Arkansas. The devil made me do, what else can I say?

I think we reached the low point during the appointment when, after I'd spent 30 minutes taking your windy history, and another 20 minutes examining you, your heavily plasticized wife (who may be putting arsenic in your prunes- watch out) asked me "So when will the doctor come in to talk to us?" That made me feel real special.

So when I heard you tell Mary that you didn't want to schedule a follow-up with me, and wanted to discuss matters with your internist, I knew this translated to "I'm never coming back here and am complaining to my internist about you". And guess what? I don't care.

Be careful the automatic door doesn't hit... oh, sorry, guess I should have warned you sooner.

This is your brain on drugs

You saved $60 (no idea how you got it) to buy your favorite treat: crack cocaine.

But your dealer has hosed you, and only sold you $20 worth of rocks, and won't give you the $40 change he owes you.

So who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters?

Nope. If you're this dude, you call 911.

Thank you, Alex!

But that's the problem, isn't it?

I'd like to thank Nicole, for sending in this headline from an online Psychology journal.

(click to enlarge)

Compliance

Dr. Grumpy: "Pete, it's been years since your last seizure. What happened?"

Mr. Ictal: "I didn't take it on Saturday."

Dr. Grumpy: "Why did you stop?"

Mr. Ictal: "Because you told me to!"

Dr. Grumpy: "What?... I don't have anything like that in your notes."

Mr. Ictal: "At our last visit you reminded me not to drink excessively on Noseizure! So, since my buddies were all in town, and I knew we were going to get wasted on Saturday night, I stopped taking it for the day."

Neither did I

"My Mom had bladder cancer. They killed the cancer, but said her bladder spread everywhere in her body. I didn't know bladders could do that."

Is there an echo in here?

Dr. Grumpy: "Mrs. Tangle, how has your memory been?"

Mr. Tangle: "It's the same, doc."

Mrs. Tangle: "HEY! I have a mouth, too, Ed! Don't answer questions for me! He asked me!"

Mr. Tangle: "I'm sorry."

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, let me try this again. MRS. TANGLE, how has your memory been?"

Mrs. Tangle: "It's the same, doc".

Beer: Go buy it yourself

Look, people there are a lot of good reasons to call the police. Traffic accidents, crimes, whatever.

However, they are NOT there to bring you beer.

So please don't call them to make a beer run for you.