Sunday reruns

Must be a full moon. Today I had some of the following exchanges with patients:


Dr. Grumpy: "I'd like to see you back in a month".

Ms. X "I'll be here. Unless, of course, the Lord comes before then. He is coming soon, you know."





Dr. Grumpy: "How's your physical therapy been going?"

Ms. Y: "I stopped going because angels have been surrounding my bed at night to heal me."





Dr. Grumpy: "How long have you been seeing Dr. Smith for your heart problem?"

Mr. Demented Psychotic: "Since he raped me in prison".

(for the record, Dr. Smith has never been in prison, nor raped anyone, that I am aware of)

More artisanal crap

Okay, my intense hatred of the overused word "artisanal" (and its derivatives) is pretty well known.

But this one is thoroughly annoying:





Let's look at this:

1. It uses the word "artisan" twice. Once to make you nauseous, and once to make you puke.

2. It's a FREAKIN' JAR OF HONEY PEOPLE! Humans can't even make it.

3. The "Artisan honey keepers" are BEES! I'm pretty sure they aren't making this claim, any more than my dog claims to be an "artisan shitpile keeper."

4. If you're going to put a "gluten free" label on honey, maybe it's time we started putting "fat free" stickers on water.

Trivia answer

Earlier this week I used the term "Hufnagel's Syndrome" in a post.

It wasn't meant to get any sort of attention, I just needed to come up with a disease name.

To my surprise, my stats have since shown a surprising number of people googling "Hufnagel's Syndrome" trying to find out what it was, then being directed back to the post. I've also received about 20 emails asking about it.

So here is the answer: There is no such disease.

The name idea is from a TV show I grew up watching, St. Elsewhere, set in a teaching hospital.

Florence Hufnagel (played by the mostly forgotten, but truly awesome, Florence Halop) was a recurring character. She was the classic patient-from-hell that we all encounter during our training (I didn't realize how accurate her portrayal was until I did my residency 10 years later). She was comically abusive and sarcastic, and made you realize how hard it could be to try and take care of someone you couldn't stand.

Her character made such an impression on a generation of TV watchers (and future doctors) that as recently as 2010 she was being cited in the news as an example.

In one of the most memorable scenes in TV history, Mrs. Hufnagel died from a bizarre combination of cardiac surgery complications and (more importantly) a malfunctioning adjustable hospital bed. It folded up into a V shape, bending her in half and suffocating her. Her death scene showed only one arm, sticking straight out the side of the folded bed.

In a bizarre postscript, it later turned out that she'd left her entire estate to one of the residents (Elliot Axelrod). When he met her lawyer it was (roughly) $50,000, but with taxes, funeral costs, and "an ongoing legal action with American Samoa" it left him with something like $18.73.

So, if you really want to think there's a disorder called "Hufnagel's Syndrome," I suppose it would be being killed by an electric adjustable bed.

Mistaken identity

While he's spending time in Juvenile Detention, I hope this kid gets some botany lessons.

Thank you, Nurse Kitty!

No kidding

This is a drug ad I saw in a journal recently:





What makes it great is the line at the bottom:

Medical research

A number of studies have addressed withdrawal issues, covering alcohol, tobacco, and controlled drugs. A review of the literature, however, shows a surprising lack of research into other addictions. In an attempt to rectify this situation I'm publishing the following data, addressing a transient, yet debilitating, condition.

For the purposes of assessment, and for possible use in future cases, a grading system was developed for this paper. It was based on the World Objective Zeitgeist Joint Organizational Bureaucratic System (WOZJOBS) staging scale data.


Case report:

A middle-aged neurologist recently left his MacBook Pro overnight at the Apple Store for repairs. Over the next several hours he underwent a gradual series of decompensations, which are presented here.

Stage 1: Minor inconvenience. "I can live without my computer for a few hours." Reads paper mail, realizes it's all junk advertising real estate agents, car dealers, and grocery stores.

Stage 2: Needs alternative. Finds things around house which weren't previously noticed: books, magazines, children, pets, spouse. Fingertips begin tingling.

Stage 3: Decides to go online with iPad. Discovers it was left at the office. Considers 1 hour drive through snow back into dangerous downtown area after dark to get it. Finds that spouse let air out of car tires to prevent this. Hyperventilates.

Stage 4: Tries to use iPhone to send long emails and write blog posts, discovers it's not particularly well suited to this. Sprains thumb.

Stage 5: Desperation. Diaphoretic & dyspneic. Dusts off old Windows laptop in the back of closet and is able to get online. It freezes up every 2-3 minutes, reminding him why he stopped using Windows in the first place. Blames Steve Jobs for his current state of despair. Spouse administers sedative consisting of caffeine-free Diet Coke laced with an old Vicodin tablet from the medicine cabinet.

After being sedated the subject was tucked into bed, carefully guarded by a pair of 4-legged orderlies. All symptoms resolved the following day after picking up the repaired computer.


Discussion: Computer withdrawal blows. They should be able to carry out all repairs in less than one-fourth the estimated time (like Mr. Scott) and not have to keep it overnight. Also, caffeine-free Diet Coke sucks.

"Hey, you want to land in jail for Valentine's Day?"

Okay, lovebirds, let's keep this in mind: When getting kinky, remember to keep it private.

Technology

Dr. Grumpy: "How are you doing? I heard you were in the hospital?"

Mr. Bag: "Yeah, I had a bad infection down there. They had to filet my scrotum to clean it out."

Dr. Grumpy: "That sounds awful."

Mr. Bag: (whips out phone) "Here's a picture."

Probably the T-shirt guy

Why is Papa Smurf smiling?

More hairs jump off

Dr. Grumpy: "Did anyone else in your family have Hufnagel's Syndrome?

Mrs. Helpful: "My sister did."

Dr. Grumpy: How old was she when she developed it?"

Mrs. Helpful: "She died when she was 38, in a car accident."

Dr. Grumpy: "But how old was she when she developed Hufnagel's Syndrome?"

Mrs. Helpful: "Well, she actually didn't have it. But if she'd lived, I'm sure she'd have gotten it in her 50's"

No! Really?

Dr. Grumpy: "When was your last appointment with Dr. Mortis?"

Mrs. Obvious: "It was before he died."

Love and Rodents

This morning I was looking through the weekend fax machine pile, and found Local Swanky Restaurant had sent over a menu for their "Valentine's Day Special."

It featured this mouth-watering item:



I think we'll just stay home. It's supposed to snow, anyway.

Election 2012

As my readers know, I'm running for President this year.

Now, admittedly, my entire campaign thus far is based on one issue, but yesterday while attending a 9-year-old girl's birthday party with my kids, I came up with a second point.

While I strongly support freedom of expression, I also believe some times are better than others to express your beliefs.

So, if elected President, I promise you this:

Any father who shows up at his 9-year daughter's birthday party wearing a T-shirt that says "IT AIN'T GONNA SUCK ITSELF" with an arrow pointing downwards, will be immediately castrated by specially trained fashion police.

Vote Grumpy, 2012!

Random Saturday pictures

Today I'm going to feature some unrelated, yet thought provoking, shots.


First is this plan posted at a hospital. I think it's particularly important, because when you have to urgently "evacuate" it's good to know where the bathrooms are.






Next is this insanity. When "artisanal" or "handcrafted" aren't enough, they have to pay someone to think of better names. Because just calling it "moisturizer" or "hand lotion" is boring.





On the other hand, it also opens up the possibility of Mrs. Grumpy telling me "Not tonight, honey. Why don't you just rub yourself with some Happy Sensation instead?"



And last, we have this bit of hyperbole from a medical marketing company. Instead of a network or panel of doctors, they have an "organically grown community" of them. Whatever that means.

(click to enlarge)