Amazon weirdness

Today's featured gift

Picnics are SUCH a hassle. You have to sit on the ground, and balance a plate, and eat- ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Let's face it, unless you're remarkably dexterous, you'll starve. Or make a mess. Or both.

But now, there's Picnic Pants!

Now you can attend picnics unafraid of spillage or being unable to find a table! You walk around with what looks like a large gray scrotum, or crotch-cape, or whatever, secure in the knowledge that merely by sitting cross-legged you'll have a convenient place to set your lunch.

History rerun: December 6, 1917

It was World War I.

Gigantic convoys of ships carrying weapons, food, and troops went constantly to Europe, bringing supplies to the Allies. They left from several major Canadian and American ports.

On this day one of them went horribly wrong. And outside of where it happened, it's mostly forgotten.

A large convoy was gathering in Halifax harbor for the trans-Atlantic journey. One ship was a freighter heavily loaded with explosives, the S.S. Mont-Blanc.

At 8:40 that morning, due to a series of mutual errors, she collided with the freighter S.S. Imo.

The Mont-Blanc immediately caught fire. Her crew tried to put it out, but due to its rapid spread were unable to. Scuttling attempts were unsuccessful, and the crew were forced to abandon ship. Someone rang a fire alarm, and several firefighting teams quickly responded to the docks. But with the ship in the harbor, there was little they could to but watch it burn. None of them knew about its cargo.

At 9:04 a.m. the disaster happened.

The ammunition cargo on the Mont-Blanc exploded with the force of 3 kilotons of TNT (roughly 1/5 the strength of the Hiroshima atomic bomb). To this day it remains the largest accidental explosion in human history, and until the 1945 nuclear tests was the biggest man-made explosion ever. Windows were shattered 10 miles away. Objects fell from shelves 80 miles away. The explosion was heard over 200 miles away.

A mushroom cloud and fireball rose over a mile into the air, and a tsunami wave of water, 60 feet high, was sent surging into Halifax. The steamship Imo was picked up and thrown ashore like a toy. Many people (including the firemen) who'd gathered ashore to watch, or were trying to get to the Mont-Blanc to help, simply vanished.

Fire spread through the city. Since it was winter, many homes had furnaces and heating stoves alight, and the shock wave blew them over, spreading heating oil and coal on the ground. Red hot shards of the ship's metal rained everywhere in the city, starting fires in buildings not directly affected by the explosion. A half-ton section of the Mont-Blanc's anchor was thrown over 2 miles into the city, and is now part of a monument. To this day St. Paul's Church has a piece of wreckage embedded in the building.

The city within 1 mile of the entire explosion (326 acres) was utterly destroyed. Buildings, docks, warehouses, homes, and people- all gone in a few seconds. Large fires swept quickly through many city blocks, fueled by winter stores of coal and heating oil. An inferno grew quickly.

Many of Halifax's rescue workers were injured or killed by the explosion, and so the city's ability to react was already impaired. Firefighters from nearby communities came to help- only to find that fire hose and nozzle sizes weren't standardized, and they couldn't connect to the Halifax hydrants. In spite of this, they and surviving local crews worked valiantly to put out the fires, and began rescue efforts of the many trapped under collapsed buildings.

But it was a northern Winter, and darkness came early, along with bitter cold. Rescue workers struggled through the night, chasing voices and moving frozen debris by hand.

The dawn brought light- and a heavy snowstorm. It became the largest blizzard of that decade, dropping 16 inches of snow in a few hours. It put out the last of the fires, but also impaired efforts to reach those who were trapped. Many survivors stuck under debris died from exposure while awaiting rescue.

This view overlooking Halifax harbor was taken after the snowstorm. This had previously been a busy neighborhood and business district.

All told, roughly 2,000 people died- 600 of them under 15 years of age. Another 6,000 were seriously injured, with 9,000 total wounded. 31,000 more were either homeless or had only minimal shelter. Many of the wounded were blinded by flying glass, and care for them eventually led to new treatments for eye trauma.

Although there were many heroes that awful day, one man stands out. His name was Vince Coleman, and he was a railway dispatcher ashore. When he learned of the burning ammunition ship, he realized that a loaded passenger train would be at the waterfront depot in a few minutes. Instead of saving himself, he ran to the telegraph key and quickly tapped out "Stop trains. Munitions ship on fire. Approaching Pier 6. Goodbye." He was killed a few seconds later in the explosion, and is credited with saving at least 300 lives.

Local hospitals overflowed with the dying and wounded, and anyone with medical training was pressed into work. The overtaxed Canadians were assisted by medical crews from American and British warships that had gathered for the convoy. An old ocean liner was turned into a hospital ship overnight. Other medical responders arrived, sent from all over Nova Scotia to assist.

Word of the disaster reached America in a few hours, and the state of Massachusetts rapidly organized a relief effort. All available trains in Boston were frantically loaded with food, medical supplies, shelter materials, and volunteer rescuers and medical personnel. The first train left Boston the night of the explosion, chugging through the same blizzard that was impairing relief efforts, and arriving roughly 30 hours later. It was followed by many other trains from all over Eastern Canada and America. The supplies and workers they brought are credited with keeping the death toll from going higher.

It's been 95 years since the tragedy, and the American assistance hasn't been forgotten. To this day Nova Scotia annually chooses it's finest Christmas tree and sends it as a gift to the city of Boston. This is the tree that stands in Boston Common every holiday season, remembering assistance in a time of need.

Modern English

The introduction of a medical letter is important. It sets down basic patient data and gives you an idea of their chief complaint. When you screw something that simple up, you just know it's going downhill from there:

I get all kinds of letters from other doctors. Most are understandable (although the computer template ones often give me no clue what they're thinking, if they're thinking at all).

I get some, however, that are full of garbled phrases. I have no idea if this is due to bad language skills, lack of good transcription (yes, Dragonphiles, YOU!), crappy proofreading, or all of the above.


Here we have this sentence (from another neurologist no less) which defies all structural rules of the English language:




Or this:




You see all kinds of odd stuff:

 Some of which makes no sense whatsoever:

At times the salutation at the top isn't particularly flattering:

Lastly we have this doctor, who's apparently so embarrassed by his shitty notes that his name isn't even on them:


 

Thanks to all who sent these in!

Mary, call tomorrow's 3:30 and cancel him

A packet of records showed up on a new patient who has a pending appointment with me. It included this note from his previous neurologist:

"He's quite insistent on being allowed to get his drivers license back. When I refused to comply, he pulled out a gun and threatened me with it. Fortunately, his wife quickly took it from him and told me it wasn't loaded."

Weekend reruns: What does a neurologist do?

Every day a neurologist has to deal with many serious medical questions. Annie and I constantly exchange email concerning critical patient problems and other important issues.

Here, for example, is a conversation excerpt on a patient who called in for urgent medical advice.

Yes, I know

Dr. Grumpy: "Have you ever been a smoker?"

Mr. Vague: "No. I mean, not that I know of. But you never know. You know?"

Call out the instigator, because...

Guy walks in, stands at front counter.

Guy: "I have an appointment with Dr. Grumpy."

Mary: "Hello. Since you're a new patient, I'll need you to fill out this form... Here's a pen..."

Guy: "Oh my God! Can you smell the mold in here?!!!"

Mary: "Excuse me?"

Guy: "It's horrible! It's overpowering! How can you can work in here?" (whips out handkerchief, covers nose and mouth)

Mary: "I'm sorry, I don't notice anything... I'll also need a copy of your insurance card."

Guy: (talking through handkerchief) "You must be used to it. I'm amazed you haven't died. I don't want to fill out the forms, I'm sure the pen and clipboard are covered with mold. In fact, I can see it. Can you fill them out for me? You may be immune to it."

Mary: "Okay... but I'll need a minute. First I have to copy your card, and answer that call, and check out the person the doctor just finished with, and..."

Guy: "You want to do all that crap?  I could die at any minute from all the mold in your filthy building! I bet it's never even been tested. I can't sit in here and wait to see your doctor! This building is a death trap."

Walks out.

Dr. Grumpy's Gift Guide, 2012!

Yes, with the clock ticking down toward one of the most important birthdays in human history (Sir Isaac Newton, born December 25, 1642) it's time for...

(D-R-U-M-R-O-L-L))

Dr. Grumpy's annual holiday gift guide!

For those of you interested in fine merchandise featured in the past, please click here 


I'm going to start things off this year with a gift that solves a common argument in modern households:


Him: "We need a new alarm clock."

Her: "I need a new vibrator."


Well, now you can have BOTH! The Little Rooster is an alarm clock AND a vibrator!

Yes, ladies, with this remarkable product you just set the time you want to wake up, put it in your panties, and go to bed (I suppose guys can use it, too, but the sensation isn't the same).

It has 2 motors with 30 different power levels (of which 27 are "silent"- though I don't know if  that applies to the gadget, its user, or both) and features a "snorgasm" switch (I SWEAR!) for when you want to go back to sleep.

If you wake up at night wondering what time it is, no need to look at the nightstand: Now you can simply check your crotch!

The site notes it can also be used as a regular alarm clock "for when you simply have to wake up feeling grumpy." I'll let Mrs. Grumpy know.

It's available for $99 in both pink and white, has a "travel lock,"  and comes with a USB charging cable.

The website says "There is nothing else on Earth like Little Rooster." I'd have to agree with them.

My brain hurts

Dr. Grumpy: "Any other issues we didn't talk about?"

Mr. Huh: "No, I think you've covered everything you have, and you haven't covered anything you shouldn't, and everything that you didn't cover wasn't mentioned. So, I think we haven't talked about anything that wasn't discussed."

Doctors behaving badly

I'm with a patient, when Mary appears in the doorway.

Mary: "Excuse me, but there's a Dr. Fuchs on the phone. He says he's a radiologist, and needs to speak with you urgently."

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay" (looks at patient and starts to pick up phone) "Excuse me for a sec... Hello, this is Ibee Grumpy."

Dr. Fuchs: "Hi, this is Roy Fuchs, I'm a radiologist in north Grumpyville."

Dr. Grumpy: "What can I do for you? Is one of my patients at your place?"

Dr. Fuchs: "Not yet, but that's why I'm calling you. My brother Luke, who's also a radiologist, and I just bought a used MRI and have set up our own imaging facility. I was wondering if I could come by your office in a few minutes to give you some info about it."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm booked up with patients today, and..."

Dr. Fuchs: "I'm sure they won't mind waiting a little longer, knowing that your time hearing about our MRI is in their best interests."

Dr. Grumpy: "Wait... but you told my staff you needed to talk to me urgently?"

Dr. Fuchs: "Well, I'm on my way to your area, and thought you'd want to know about our facility before you order any more studies. So what do you say? Can I get you something from Starbucks?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Don't bother." (hangs up) "I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Patient, now back to your medications..."

November 23, 1983

On this day in 1983... A man died.

Okay, so I'm sure a lot of people left us on November 23rd, 1983. But this man deserves to be commemorated. Not for how he lived, but how he died.

James "Jimmy the Beard" Ferrozzo was 40 years old, but had a tough reputation from working in the strip clubs of San Francisco's North Beach area. At the time of his death he was the assistant manager of The Condor Club, which remains in operation today.

The Condor was America's first topless club, and was made famous by Carol Doda. She was among the first topless dancers (and definitely the first bottomless) in the area, and unquestionably one of the most famous strippers ever. She built the reputation of the club (which hosted several visiting dignitaries during the 1964 Republican convention), and for many years The Condor's sign featured a full length picture of her with flashing red lights on her silicone-enhanced size 44 chest.

Her act began in dramatic fashion. She'd enter the theater from above, lying on a white, velvet-covered baby grand piano. It slowly descended from the ceiling and moved to the stage, where she took it off- all off.

Back to my story:

We don't know exactly what happened on that fateful night 29 years ago, between The Condor Club's closing time and when a janitor came to clean up in the morning.

James Ferrozzo was dating a 23 year old stripper named Teresa Hill. Sometime after the club closed the 2 of them climbed on top of the piano, I assume to make sure it was tuned. They apparently hadn't started, as his body was fully clothed when found (she wasn't wearing quite as much).

Somehow, likely due to their legs hitting the switch, the piano turned on, and began rising toward the ceiling. Distracted with other activities, neither Mr. Ferrozzo nor Miss Hill noticed the slow change in altitude.

When the janitor arrived at 7:00 that morning, he heard Mrs. Hill screaming and called the San Francisco police and fire department.

James Ferrozzo was dead, crushed against the ceiling, and was still on top of Miss Hill, who was lying on the piano.

Miss Hill was alive, but trapped. Attempts to lower the piano were unsuccessful, as its motor had burned out during the night. The fire department had to destroy it in order to free the young lady. She was taken to a local hospital, and treated for bruises.

Due to intoxication, Miss Hill had no recollection of the evening's events, or even of getting on the piano at all. She remembered having been in the club that night, and then waking up pinned between the late Mr. Ferrozzo and the piano.

Mr. Ferrozzo was determined to have died of asphyxiation from being crushed between the club's ceiling, a nude dancer, and a moving velvet-covered piano. His large frame (6'2", 220 lbs.) is likely what saved Miss Hill's life, as it provided several inches of cushioning between her and the roof.

Today Carol Doda runs a lingerie shop in San Francisco, and still performs as a singer/dancer (with her clothes on) at local restaurants.

Teresa Hill vanished into anonymity, and likely lives in modern suburbia. She's probably grateful not to remember much of the night, and may not own a piano.

The Condor Club is still in business, albeit after some ownership changes. The drink menu now includes a concoction named "Sex on the Piano" in Mr. Ferrozzo's memory.

Thanksgiving Thursday morning

Dr. Grumpy: "This is Dr. Grumpy, returning a page."

Mr. Turkey: "Yeah! Are you guys open on Friday?"

Dr. Grumpy: "No, we're not."

Mr. Turkey: "Crap. I need to get my prescription refilled."

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, I can call it in. Which pharmacy do you use?"

Mr. Turkey: "I don't need it until Monday, so I'll just call back then. Thanks!"

Tuesday morning

Dr. Heller: "This is Dr. Heller, with Major Illness Insurance."

Dr. Grumpy: "Hi, this is Ibee Grumpy, I'm a neurologist, trying to get a brain MRI authorized on one of my patients."

Dr. Heller: "Okay, can you tell me about her?"

Dr. Grumpy: "She had a brain MRI on May 21, 2012, which showed a possible mass, so this is a 6 month follow-up study to see if it's changed."

Dr. Heller: "Okay... That sounds reasonable, but it hasn't been 6 months yet."

Dr. Grumpy: "What?"

Dr. Heller: "Well, her previous study was done on May 21th. Today is November 20th. So it isn't 6 months yet."

Dr. Grumpy: "Well, the study won't be done until next week, anyway, when it will have been 6 months."

Dr. Heller: "But the point is that you're calling on the 20th. It won't be 6 months until tomorrow."

Dr. Grumpy: "So you can't authorize this?"

Dr. Heller: "Nope. You'll have to call back tomorrow. Have a good day."