Patient quote of the day

"My Dad had cancer. I think it was prosthetic cancer."

Why do I bother?

Dr. Grumpy: "Did that medicine help?"

Mr. Pill: "I don't know. The pharmacy never filled it."

Dr. Grumpy: "Whaaa..."

Mr. Pill: "I dropped it off last month, but they never called to tell me it was ready."

Dr. Grumpy: "Did you go by to get it? Or call them to ask if it was ready?"

Mr. Pill: "Was I supposed to?"

The ink is black, the page is white

Race relations are more complex than passing laws and saying "look, we elected/hired a black person." A lot of the time real change is seen at a level that politicians and activists won't even tell you about.

So here's a story that you won't hear on the news or from a politico's mouth.

I have a patient, an elderly white man. His wife died 2 years ago, and he has no kids or local siblings. In 2010 he developed a relentlessly progressive neurological disease, with increasing disability over time.

A long time ago, when he was a teenager, his parents were prominent members of the Grumpyville community. When a group of black families wanted to build a community center, the majority of Grumpyville whites fought like hell to keep them from doing so. Because, after all, they were black people.

But Mr. Patient's parents were different. They had this bizarre (for the time) view that people were equal, and should be treated fairly. So they stood up against the majority of the community, bought a parcel of land for the community center, and then financed a large part of it out of their own pockets.

So it got built. And became a successful (and still in existence) black center in Grumpyville. Years went by. Mr. Patient's parents grew old and died, and then Mr. Patient grew old and sick.

There's nobody at the community center old enough to remember how it got started. Although the center's humble origins are doubtless memorialized somewhere on a wall or booklet, most of its members are my age or younger now.

Mr. Patient is stubborn (like most guys) and been reluctant to leave the house he and his wife have owned for 50 years. To him moving into a care home was out of the question. His financial resources, though comfortable, didn't allow him to hire much in the way of outside help. And he was too stubborn to call friends for help. So he worsened, and became increasingly unable to care for his home and self.

Usually these situations end in disaster. The patient is found lying on the floor, dead or near it, after the postman notices no one is getting the mail. But this one was different.

Last month, through the community grapevine, one of the administrators of the black community center heard about white Mr. Patient, and realized who his parents were. He contacted him to offer help, and to my surprise, Mr. Patient accepted.

So now Mr. Patient is able to continue living at his house because volunteers from the community center, all born long after the place was established, come to his home a few times a week. They bring him meals and groceries, help with the upkeep of the house, and are allowing him to stay there as long as possible.

That's what real measures of human change are.

"That was the wrong button, Nigel."

"British Airways apologizes for this unfortunate incident, and will pay to wash or replace our loyal passengers' underwear."

Doctors behaving badly

Mary interrupts me with a patient. A doctor who doesn't refer to me is on the phone, and says it's urgent he talk to me.


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

Dr. Dislike: "Hi, does Fukitol interact with Noshakes?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Is one of my patients over there?"

Dr. Dislike: "No, I just want to know for someone I'm seeing tomorrow."

Dr. Grumpy: "You had me interrupted with a patient to ask me a simple drug question?"

Dr. Dislike: "I'm very busy. I don't have time for this. Answer the question!"

Dr. Grumpy: "Look it up on ePocrates." (hangs up)

Magazines at the grocery store check-out line

Sheesh. All I wanted was some hamburger buns, tomatoes, and onion rings.





Reminded me of this.

Thank you, Webhill!

Clothes make the man

Due to a laundry machine catastrophe yesterday, Local Hospital has run out of patient gowns. So they're using a bunch of promotional T-shirts they found in the basement.

As a result, my drooling, incontinent 92 year old male stroke patient, with advanced Alzheimer's disease, is wearing a T-shirt that says "I'm a proud new Daddy!"

With little baby footprints under the word "Daddy."

Sunday musical interlude

Random Saturday pictures

First, in case you've forgotten the obscene kiwi fruit, we have this tomato:







Next we have a store computer showing the blue screen of death, which is generally NOT a selling point:







A reader sent in this coupon for a "fluid exchange". He commented that "if it didn't show a picture of a car, I'd wonder what they were selling with that headline."

Having the place named "BJ's" probably doesn't help, either.






And, lastly, for those of you trying to lose weight for New Year's, keep in mind that there are always alternatives to diet and exercise.

Life in America

In a world of serious problems, it's nice to see lawmakers gutsy enough to tackle the really big issues facing us.

Thank you, Lee!

Corey Hart, where are you?

Dr. Grumpy: "You're looking better today."

Mrs. FosterGrant: "Well I don't feel any better! I have a horrible migraine today. Look at me! I'm even having to wear my sunglasses indoors!"

Dr. Grumpy: "Uh, you don't have sunglasses on."

Mrs. Fostergrant: "I don't?" (feels face, then rummages through purse, puts on sunglasses) "Now I do! See? I feel awful!"

Keystone Medical Transport

I want to know if it went bouncing down the street, like in movies.

Thank you, Sam!

Mary, bring me a strong drink

I'm with a patient, when Mary interrupts. There's a hospital call for me. So I pick it up.

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

Dr. Webster: "Hi, I'm the hospitalist taking care of Mrs. Migraine, and I have a question about your note."

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay."

Dr. Webster: "This morning you wrote: 'Brain MRI didn't show an ominous cause for her headaches'."

Dr. Grumpy: "Yes?"

Dr. Webster: "What does 'ominous' mean?"

Wednesday

Dr. Grumpy: "So we'll see how the medication change works. Any questions?"

Mr. Funky: "I'm not happy about this."

Dr. Grumpy: "Not happy about what?"

Mr. Funky: "My visit co-pay. I paid $25 the first time I came here, and then another $25 at my last visit, and now I'm going to have to pay another $25 today. That's $75 to see you for the same damn problem."

Dr. Grumpy: "I understand, but I don't set your co-pay."

Mr. Funky: "It should be one co-pay covers all visits for the year, or something."

Dr. Grumpy: "Your insurance company is the one who decides your co-pay, not me."

Mr. Funky: "Yeah, but I bet you're sleeping with some insurance company bitch."