Gee, why didn't I think of that?

Joe: "Local Hospital computer help, this is Joe."

Dr. Grumpy: "Hi, I went to read an EEG, and the reading room is, um, gone. I mean, completely vanished, and they're building an orthopedic supply closet where it used to be."

Joe: "Is this a problem?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Well, yeah. A lot depends on my ability to read EEG's on the hospital patients. If I don't have the results, then I can't make treatment decisions."

Joe: "Look, we spent a lot of time setting things up so you guys can read EEG's from home, WHICH YOU ASKED FOR, so why can't you just drive home, read them, then come back and round?"

Today's featured gift

Do you enjoy mini-golf? Do you love bathroom humor? Have you ever wanted to show the office golf asshat where he can put his ball? Then this is ideal for you!

Yes, with this remarkably tasteless gadget, you can pretend to whack a golf ball into someone's ass and listen to them fart. You can repeat this action until the joke is old (1-2 times) and then give it to that co-worker you hate in the office gift exchange.

Proud parenting moments

At my parent's 50th anniversary party, which was held at an incredibly swanky restaurant:

Grandma Grumpy: "Marie, are you enjoying your dinner?"

Marie: "Yes. I like this place. It's fancy. It doesn't have gum under the tables."

From the "No shit, Sherlock" research department

The mere anticipation of an interaction with a woman can impair men's cognitive performance.

Archives of sexual behavior, (2012) 41:1051-1056 

Abstract

Recent research suggests that heterosexual men's (but not heterosexual women's) cognitive performance is impaired after an interaction with someone of the opposite sex (Karremans et al., 2009). These findings have been interpreted in terms of the cognitive costs of trying to make a good impression during the interaction. In everyday life, people frequently engage in pseudo-interactions with women (e.g., through the phone or the internet) or anticipate interacting with a woman later on. The goal of the present research was to investigate if men's cognitive performance decreased in these types of situations, in which men have little to no opportunity to impress her and, moreover, have little to no information about the mate value of their interaction partner. Two studies demonstrated that men's (but not women's) cognitive performance declined if they were led to believe that they interacted with a woman via a computer (Study 1) or even if they merely anticipated an interaction with a woman (Study 2). Together, these results suggest that an actual interaction is not a necessary prerequisite for the cognitive impairment effect to occur. Moreover, these effects occur even if men do not get information about the woman's attractiveness. This latter finding is discussed in terms of error management theory


Thank you, Vince!

Today's featured gift

Before moving on to the post, I'd like to say something:


HAPPY 50th ANNIVERSARY MOM AND DAD!

And now back to our regular program.

 
Is your favorite cook tired of drab colors? Do they want to spice things up? Well, you should give them Esslack: edible spray paint for food!

Think of the possibilities: gold chicken, blue steak, or fire-red asparagus! Make your holiday dinner look like something out of Willy Wonka (the 1971 version).

Foodies in the 'hood can give up using plain, inedible Krylon and do some serious food tagging to let everyone know that particular Big Mac is YOURS.

Your kids already believe you're trying to poison them. So why not have fun with it?

Today

I want to offer my thoughts, prayers, and condolences to all affected by the terrible events of today.

Today's featured gift

Have a friend who likes tasteless historical knick-knacks? Consider this:

Now they can own a bobblehead doll of the man who murdered America's 16th, and probably greatest, President. Ideal for those who enjoy, um, I guess, this sort of thing.

As best I can determine bobbleheads of Lee Harvey Oswald, Charles Guiteau, and Leon Czolgosz are not currently available.

Wednesday night, 7:45 p.m.

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

Mrs. Down: "Hi, are you covering for Dr. Nerve?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Yes, what can I do for you?"

Mrs. Down: "I'm emotionally uncomfortable."

Dr. Grumpy: "About what?"

Mrs. Down: "I'm worried I may run out of gas on the way to the drugstore."

Mary's desk, December 11, 2012

Wild-eyed guy breathing rapidly throws open the door, runs in, stands at counter.

Guy: "HEY! CAN YOU GUYS BREAK A $100 BILL?!!!"

Mary: "Uh, no, sorry. We only have a few $5's and $1's for change."

Guy: "SHIT!"

(runs out, door slams behind him)

Today's featured gift

Have a friend who REALLY loves Christmas music?

Yes, now even in private moments you can enjoy the gentle melodies of holiday tunes, and imagine you're being bombarded with them in Wall-to-Wall-Mart. The more TP you use, the more it plays. So even if you're having explosive diarrhea you'll never run out of musical entertainment (as long as you don't run out of paper or batteries).

At present it is not available in Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Festivus forms, or with music that can be played year round (such as the Mama's & Papa's "Go Where You Wanna Go").

$5

Recently there was a news story about Dr. Russell Dohner, of Illinois. He charges all patients a flat fee of $5/visit. He doesn't take insurance.

This led to several online threads featuring comments such as "Finally! A doctor who cares!"

Apparently, this means that doctors like me, who charge more than practically nothing, are evil and don't care.

I respect Dr. Dohner, and am not putting him down. I think highly of what he does. I actually like what I do, and if I were independently wealthy and could see patients for free, I probably would.

It isn't until almost the end that the article notes Dr. Dohner is supported by his family's farming business, and NOT his medical practice. By that time most readers have moved on to the football scores and "Dancing with the Stars" results, and therefore are left with the impression that any doctor can do this for $5 a head.

Bullshit.

I do care.

But that doesn't mean I don't have my own responsibilities: like office rent. And paying Annie & Mary. And a mortgage. A wife. 3 kids. If I can't support those things, then I'm not going to be able to keep my office open to care for people.

Regardless of what people may think, just because I charge for my services doesn't mean I don't care.

I care enough to call in your seizure medication to a pharmacy at 2:00 a.m. because you're out of pills, even though you knew you needed a refill for at least a week.

I care enough to call you from my family vacation to go over your MRI results, because I didn't think they should wait until I got home, or that you should get bad news from a covering doctor who doesn't know you.

I care enough to come in early and see you at 7:00 a.m. because you can't get time off work, but really do need to be seen.

I care enough to spend time arguing with some pinhead at your insurance company about why you need an MRI, when they don't think you do.

I care enough to rush in to the hospital to see you on my weekend off, rather than let a hospitalist who doesn't know you from Adam try to figure this out.

I care enough to call a drug rep and beg for samples of your medication because you lost your job and can't afford it.

I care enough not to order unnecessary EMG's and EEG's on you, even though doing them would improve my revenue.

I care enough to face worsening reimbursements and rising expenses every day, when many colleagues have given up and gone into another field.

I care enough to try and give you hope, even when I'm not sure there is any.

I care enough to help you find another neurologist who will take good care of you, because your crappy insurance won't let you see me anymore.

I care enough to step out of my kid's music recital and take your call, because I know you're scared.

I care enough to take the time and explain why the drug you saw advertised on TV isn't a good idea in your case, rather than just writing a script to shut you up.

I care enough to stay in a job that has deprived me a of decent night's sleep, family time, and likely shortened my overall lifespan, in spite of the fact that my financial goal nowadays is just to break even.

I care enough to refer you to a neurological subspecialist who can take better care of you than I can, even though in doing so I'll lose you as a patient.

I care enough to call your spouse at 9:00 p.m. to reassure them that you'll be all right.

I care enough not to force you to have a test you can't afford, even though you can sue me for malpractice if I miss something.

I care enough not to dismiss you from my practice, in spite of your insanely annoying personality, because I know that you really do need my help.

I care enough to still be doing this job, even though every day a little bit of my idealism dies.

I care enough to be a doctor. I hope I always will.

It's time!

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.