Claustrophobia

"Doc, I was a Navy Seal. We trained in all kinds of stuff. I got crammed into the torpedo tubes of a submarine to land on enemy islands. I sat balled up in a fetal position for hours in the dark cargo hold of a bomber to parachute out. I fought in combat in 2 wars. But holy shit, I couldn't handle that MRI to save my life."

Dear Patient,

I know you did it. Why, I don't have a clue.

A blue sponge that I use once a week for cleaning Ed's bowl has been sitting on the edge of that sink for 12 years. The sponge changes every few years, usually when it starts falling apart. It's not used for anything else.

I'd noted it there when I took you in. Mary pulled me out for 5 minutes to take an ER call, and when I went back in it was gone. You were standing in the center of the room, zipping your purse closed. And the sponge had vanished.

I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but a search of the room didn't turn it up. So I took emergency measures, and brought a new one from home the next day.

I have no idea why anyone would want to steal a used sponge, especially from a doctor's office. I mean, it's nowhere near the kitchen, and since its sitting next to a fish net and bottle of Betta water prep I figure it's pretty obvious what it's for (sorry if I came back you before you could grab the net, too).

The sponge has been used to scrub off countless fish turds, the fuzzy goop that grows on the glass balls at the bottom during the summer months, and whatever other disgusting things are in Ed's water. I hope you aren't using it in your kitchen, or for personal hygiene.

I don't think you're so destitute as to be unable to afford one (they cost 25¢, FFS). I also hope you didn't mistake it for some kind of snack, and are now lying in ICU dying of some horrible fish shit poisoning.

Perhaps you're secretly planning on taking it to the state board of health, to see what they can culture out of it. If the plan is to get me in trouble with them, I doubt they'll care. I'm not preparing food or medicine in that sink, or washing anything. It's used solely for changing a fish once a week.

However, we know who you are. If you read this, and are currently overwrought with guilt from your life of crime, please confess at your next appointment. In exchange I will not press charges, but will gladly give you an unopened, clean, kitchen sponge, as I feel sorry that you must resort to such lawlessness.

Yours truly,

Ibee Grumpy, M.D.

p.s. I also have an extra fish net if you need one.

Communication

Dr. Pissy still uses paper charts, and has a room near my office where he stores inactive ones.

1-2 times a year his secretary makes a list of patients who have died, and moves their charts from the front shelves to a box in the storage room.

Yesterday I was talking to Mr. Patient in my office, when Pissy's secretary wandered past my door behind him. She was struggling with a pile of charts, and looked like she might drop one at any minute.

Being a gentleman (or at least trying) I stopped talking to Mr. Patient and called out, "Hey, do you need a hand with those?"

Pissy's secretary said "No, I'm okay. I'm just putting a bunch of dead people in a box."

Mr. Patient looked startled, to say the least.

I just had to do it

I was on call this weekend, and overheard...


Unit clerk (flipping through a Rolodex) "Hey, does anyone know Jenny's number?"

Dr. Grumpy: "867-5309."

Hurricane news

As the warnings for Hurricane Sandy continue to come in ("Please remain calm, we could all be killed"), my reader Tanya noticed this incredible combination of weather alerts and an advertisement on her TV:

Thank you, Tanya!

p.s. I apologize in advance if I'm unable to post for the next few days due to power outages.

The Marines: Looking for a few good men

Tomorrow, in Washington, D.C., is the Marine Corps Marathon.

My reader Amy, while trying to figure out traffic routes, discovered this, uh, interesting map of the marathon's course:

I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP! The complete map, including the above, um, segment, can be seen here.

Thank you, Amy!

Thanks, Siri

I've gotten into the habit of having Siri do minor stuff for me. Sometimes she works fine, other times... not so much.

Last night I had a marketing interview, which finished ahead of schedule. So as I got in my car I picked up the phone and said "Siri, send a text to Mrs. Grumpy: I'm done, the interview went fast."

Upon getting home I found out she received "I'm done. The interviewer and I went to France."

October 25, 1962

The North American black bear (ursus americanus) is the smallest of the continent's 3 bear species, and (comparatively) the most docile. It generally prefers to avoid humans and be left alone.


It was the Cuban missile crisis. The 2 superpowers were locked in a potentially lethal stare-down that affected lives across the globe. Both were on a hair trigger, watching for the other to make the first move.

Volk Field, in Wisconsin, wasn't one of America's larger bases. It was primarily used for pilot training and didn't even have a control tower. Planes were directed from a command center at Duluth.

In the current state of readiness, though, the Air Force had dispersed American warplanes to many such small bases across the north. Tensions were high. There was fear that Soviet agents would try to destroy the planes or runways prior to a first strike. Extra alarms had been hurriedly rigged up everywhere, alongside the dreaded klaxon that meant "launch nuclear bombers." Armed sentries patrolled constantly.

There were no drills. The pilots and planes were ready. The men had been told that, given the world situation, if the alarm sounded it was the real thing.

It was around midnight when a sentry patrolling the Duluth command center noticed a figure just outside the security fence. As he approached, it suddenly began climbing the fence, trying to get into the restricted area. This might be it. A Russian spy, trying to sabotage the bases to let the Soviets get in a first nuclear strike.

The guard fired his gun at the figure and hit the alarm button that warned of a ground intruder. The trespasser jumped off the fence and ran back into the forest on all fours- a large black bear. But the sabotage alarm had now been activated at all the bases under Duluth's command, sending armed guards racing to protect the planes.

Except at Volk Field.

Due to an undetected wiring error when the base was hurriedly readied for bombers, the nuclear war klaxon sounded there.

Fighter crews scrambled to planes. Their mission (likely one-way) was to intercept long-range Soviet bombers coming over the North Pole. Aside from other weapons, each American plane carried a single AIR-2 "Genie" rocket with a 1.5 kiloton nuclear warhead to be used against enemy formations. The Russians, once they detected American planes heading for them, would certainly retaliate in kind.

They taxied down the runway to Armageddon. Once airborne they couldn't be recalled- they were under orders to assume any ground communication telling them to come back was from the enemy. There was no control tower to correct the error before they took off.

A quick-thinking officer in the base's command center called Duluth, and learned of the mistake. There was no war, only an errant bear. He hurriedly jumped into a truck, turned on the flashing lights, and drove onto the runway, blocking the fighters from taking off and alerting them to the mistake. He was able to stop them just in time.

It was another close call.

Those involved didn't even know what had happened for another 25 years, when the incident was officially declassified.

Life on the edge is scary.

Mary, call security.

Dr. Grumpy: "Are you married?"

Mrs. Latrodectus: "Widowed... Am I considered a widow if I killed my husband?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Um, I really don't know."

Mrs. Latrodectus: "Then just put down that I'm single."

Memories...

When I was in residency, there was a married couple in the program, Peter and Stephanie. They were often on call together, one supervising ICU and the other wards, or vice versa. Both were seniors, and I was just starting out.

One night when I was working with Peter, there was a code. Both on-call teams ran to it. Since I was the junior resident my job was to stay out of the way, but look like I was doing something important. Like leaning against a wall to keep it from collapsing.

Peter and Stephanie were at the head of the bed. She was setting up to intubate the patient, and Peter was watching the heart monitor and calling for meds (they were REALLY into this sort of shit. Another resident once told me that codes were probably their idea of foreplay). At one point Peter tore off a rhythm strip, handed it to me, turned back to the bed and yelled, "Sweetie! Can you intubate him now?"

There was a (pardon the phrase) dead silence.

The code stopped for a few seconds and all eyes were on the married couple. Finally, Stephanie said (with icicles on every syllable):

"Don't call me 'Sweetie' during a code."

Then she intubated the guy, and the code continued.

I don't remember if the patient made it, but I know I almost lost it.

Skool Nerse Time

Ms. Concern: "Hello?"

Mrs. Grumpy: "Hi, this is Nurse Grumpy, the school nurse at Douglas C. Kenney Elementary School, calling about your daughter, Karen."

Ms. Concern: "Yes?"

Mrs. Grumpy: "She took a bite of a friend's sandwich at lunch, and it had peanuts in it. Karen swelled up really badly, and had trouble breathing. I used one of our emergency EpiPens on her. She's much better now, and resting in my office."

Ms. Concern: "Okay. Do I need to send someone to get her?"

Mrs. Grumpy: "Yeah, but I went looking through her medical forms here. Did you know she's seriously allergic to peanuts?"

Ms. Concern: "Oh, yeah, she's been that way since she was five."

Mrs. Grumpy: "But on the allergy form you filled out just 2 weeks ago you wrote 'no allergies'!"

Ms. Concern: "That's because I don't have time for school paperwork."

Mrs. Grumpy: "Well, it really helps to have an accurate medical history, for when things like this happen."

Ms. Concern: "Her pediatrician knows, and I know. Why does it have to be your business, too?"

Mrs. Grumpy (sigh): "Do you have an EpiPen for her at home?"

Ms. Concern: "Of course. I keep two of them here."

Mrs. Grumpy: "Well can you please bring one to school? So we have it available in case this happens again?"

Ms. Concern: "They both expired years ago."

On the radio

This is the recording of an actual phone call to a Fargo radio station earlier this month.





Thank you, Tanya!

Family

Mr. Spouse: "What kind of side effects does this have?"

Dr. Grumpy: "A few. It can cause nightmares..."

Mr. Spouse: "Hell, so can my mother-in-law."

Literally

Dr. Grumpy: "Any major illnesses in your family?"

Mr. Clock: "My dad died early."

Dr. Grumpy: "Like in his 20's? Or 30's?"

Mr. Clock: "No, I mean between 4:00 and 5:00 in the morning."