Next week

I'll be back sometime next week guys. Thank you for your patience.

Thank you

No, I'm not back to writing. I just wanted to thank you all for your wishes. I'm genuinely touched.

It's been a bad week. I've likely cried more than I ever have. I'm not one of those "boys don't cry" types, but am still in shock. Maybe someday I'll write about it.

One of the most remarkable things (at least to me) about the brain is its ability to remember songs and lyrics, long after we last heard them, or even remembered they existed.

Although I haven't heard the album in over 35 years, somewhere during the week my brain dragged out a song from my childhood that I'd long since forgotten about, and been playing it nonstop in my mental background. It's from Free to Be You and Me (1972) and is "It's All Right to Cry." It was, ironically, sung by football great Rosey Grier.

Normally my earworms drive me nuts, but this one has been very soothing. Thank you, Mr. Grier, wherever you are.

And thank you all for your good wishes and understanding.

IG

Sorry

Due to a serious family emergency I'm going to have to stop blogging for while. I have no idea when I will be back. I will return though, I promise. Please be patient.

Rimshot

Mr. Stumbles: "My vision hasn't been the same since I fell. Really blurry."

Dr. Grumpy: "Did you hit your head?"

Mr. Stumbles: "No, but I broke my glasses."

While you're waiting for the doctor...

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, we'll see what the test shows... Any questions?"

Mrs. Lipstick: "You have some unused space in your lobby."

Dr. Grumpy: "Oh, that depends on the day, and how many patients Pissy and I have."

Mrs. Lipstick: "I was thinking I could put a small table at the far end."

Dr. Grumpy: "For what?"

Mrs. Lipstick: "I sell Avon cosmetics, and could set up a small store out there. I think a lot of your female patients would appreciate the convenience."

Dr. Grumpy: "What? No. I'm sorry, but that's just not something we'd like here."

Mrs. Lipstick: "How much of a commission do you want? I'm sure we can make a deal."

Small talk

Dr. Grumpy: "How's your husband doing?"

Mrs. Latrine: "He eats, then he shits. It's like living with a goose."

Dr. Grumpy's book club

Today I'd like to review a few books I've enjoyed.

Disclaimer: I am not being paid to write this, nor am I related to any of the authors. I'm also not selling the books on Amazon (though am thinking of trying to unload Frank's Pokemon guides there if he doesn't get them out of the living room).

The first is a new novel written by the totally awesome Fizzy (writing as Freida McFadden), purveyor of high-quality medical cartoons. I am, I must admit, somewhat jealous. Writing a book about the insanity of my practice was always on my to-do list, but as the years went by it became pretty obvious that I'd never have time to do it. So the book became my blog, and is a work in progress until I hang it up.

Anyway, Fizzy wrote The Devil Wears Scrubs. (Available from Amazon here). It details what is likely the most terrifying part of a medical career: the first 1-2 months of residency. Yes, you may have the title "doctor," but that doesn't mean you have a clue as to what's going on. Far from it. And you are more terrified than you have ever been in your life.

The tribulations are familiar to anyone who's done a medical internship: malignant senior residents, brown-nosing co-interns, eccentric attendings, nurses that run the gamut from supportive to hostile, and, in her case, a psychotic roommate (the last didn't apply to me, as I lived alone). Other things she learns to deal with (which are still big issues as an attending on call) are desperately trying to find time to pee, grabbing something to eat before you die or the cafeteria closes, and getting 10-15 minutes of sleep every 24 hours.

I found it to be an accurate, and funny, portrayal of intern life (except I wasn't dating a hunky surgeon).

The second book I read a few years back, but have always meant to write about. Although written by a doctor, it has nothing to do with medicine.

It's by Dr. Doreen Orion, and is a true story called Queen of the Road. She and her husband, both psychiatrists, gave up their practices for a year and bought a bus to drive around the continental U.S. (and a little of Canada) with a dog and 2 cats. The book is an entertaining combination of travel adventures, humor, and personal observations, as well as commentary on shoes, unusual local attractions, a bitchy GPS system, and, at one point, a nudist colony (I SWEAR!). Dr. Orion and I also shared the same curiosity about frost heaves when we first saw a sign warning of them (she thought they were some sort of monster, I thought they were an illness induced from overeating ice cream).

I loved Dr. Orion's book. As a veteran of many North American road trips, as a kid, as a single guy, and now as a parent, I sympathize greatly with her musings and adventures.

The last book, of course, is the one I can never emphasize enough, especially to medical students and residents. It is the one I refer to as the Bible, and is written by my medical idol, Oscar London, M.D.

It's Kill as Few Patients as Possible, and is a collection of 57 essays. Brevity is the soul of wit, and in its few pages an aspiring physician will find a bounty of practical knowledge to use in a career. The book is a bit dated in some ways (drug reps no longer give away free pens), but it also has a certain retro charm. It is, for example only available in a format that the ancients called "paper." This connection, like the 2400 year-old Hippocratic Oath, helps tie us to the ancient physicians of yore. Those long-gone days when someone had to go find a huge copy of a PDR lying around a nursing station to look something up, use a Yellow Pages to find a pharmacy's number, and radiology images were printed on a silver-based substance called "film" (yeah, that was my residency).

Happy reading! It's a great use of your occipital cortex!

Huh?

Mary: "Dr. Grumpy's office, this is Mary."

Phone Lady: "Hi? What's your fax number? I want to make an appointment with Dr. Grumpy, and send him my records."

Mary: "It's 867-5309."

Phone Lady: "Great! What kind of doctor is he, anyway?"

Mary: "Uh, he's a neurologist."

Phone Lady: "Oh, never mind."

Weekend on call

DiaStat is an emergency anti-seizure medication in a liquid form, that's given rectally. It's for seizures that are hard to control. It's usually used when you're trying to avoid taking the patient to ER.

This holiday weekend, while on call, I was phoned by a lady who has a daughter with severe epilepsy. Her regular neurologist had already given the family a supply of DiaStat for emergencies.

So when they called to tell me the seizures were out of control, I had her mother give her a dose of DiaStat, without benefit. After I told her to give a 2nd dose, I got called again.


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

Mom Seizure: "Hi, I gave Lisa the 2nd dose like you told me to, then I gave a 3rd dose of DiaStat on my own, and she's still seizing."

Dr. Grumpy: "You're going to have to bring her to the ER, and I'll meet you there. I can't safely give her any more outpatient medication."

Mom Seizure: "I understand, but is there anything else you could do? We really don't want to take her to the hospital. Is there another medication? Or another way of giving DiaStat?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Nothing I'm comfortable with, she needs to get IV medication, and further testing, and..."

Pause

Dr. Grumpy: "What did you mean by "is there another way to give DiaStat?"

Mom Seizure: "Well, the instructions say to give it rectally. I could try doing that."

Pause

Dr. Grumpy: "What the... you haven't been giving it to her rectally?"

Mom Seizures: "No. I've been putting it in her ear."

Dr. Grumpy: "IN HER EAR???!!!!!!!"

Mom Seizure: "Well, since seizures start in the brain, I figured squirting it in her ear would get it there faster. I was afraid putting it in her rear end would be too far away from the brain."

Pause.

Dr. Grumpy: "You need to bring her to ER."

Lazy holiday post

Science marches on. And makes a mess!

Thank you, Tab!

Huh?

Cat-Vi was kind enough to send in this picture from a magazine:

 It raises a few points:

1. Eggs are not dairy products. Just because the grocery store sells them near the milk does not mean they come from cows. Or mammals in general (yes, I know monotremes lay eggs, but they aren't generally eaten).

2. Pie graphs are supposed to add up to 100%. Not 71%. Even if you're just showing the top 3, you still should have a 29% slice marked "other."

3. Your graph is flawed. It left out broccoli and cauliflower, which have a near-100% allergy rate among children.

 Thank you, Cat-Vi!

Quote of the day

Dr. Grumpy: "Any side effects with the medication?"

Mr. Colon: "Yeah, I'm constipated. I've been using Miralax, Sennakot, Colace, and some other stuff. You know how it goes. It takes a village to have a shit."

Skool nerse time

This is Mrs. Grumpy.

My, how did the Summer go by so quickly? Well here we are again, in the first week of school.

As always, I have the cherished task of sorting out the "medical information cards" you parents fill out. I'm sure in this day and age it could be done more effectively online, but apparently they tried that at another school last year, and the parents didn't bother. I guess the internet kiosk line at the bus station was too long.

So we're continuing with cards.

Since filling these things out is a surprisingly complex task for so many of you, I thought I'd offer a few pointers.

1. On the line where it says "name" write YOUR KID'S NAME. Not your name. Or his sister's name. Also, putting nicknames like "Raggy," "Dudette," and "Booger," while cute, do not help. Especially when you don't put on a last name. So, let's keep this in mind: Write your KID'S name, both first and last. Middle is optional, unless it's a name that ends in a Roman numeral (such as Harold Winthrop Higgleschweimer IV). Then it's required so the teachers know he's just killing time with school until he gets his inheritance.

2. On the line where it says "medications" please list any your kid is taking. Things your ex was taking at the time of conception that you believe explain junior's shitty math scores do not belong there. Nor am I looking for a list of EVERY FUCKING PILL BOTTLE IN THE HOUSE. Just what junior is presently on, not what he might get into because of crappy supervision by your baby-daddy's 9 year old watching him and playing Nintendo simultaneously.

3. Under allergies, please write your kid's allergies. That's all. How hard is that? Peanuts? Check. Penicillin? Good, you've got the point. So stop putting stuff in like "soap from a Motel 6," "the sunscreen my MIL bought," and (my favorite this year) "Disney backpacks."

4. I need a phone number where I can reach you in an emergency. 911 doesn't count, unless you work there. And even then, it's a stretch. Likewise, telling me that it changes from week-to-week doesn't help, and makes me wonder if CPS should be called.

5. A vaccination record is really helpful. Writing "I believe in Jenny McCarthy" doesn't make me think highly of you. But my REAL pet peeve here is those of you who are simply too damn lazy to actually look for the records, and just scribble "religious reasons" to save time in filling it out. If that many of you hadn't vaccinated your kids, most would be dead by now. I don't believe you, so get off your ass and look through the filing cabinet.

6. If junior takes pills, please bring them in a labeled prescription bottle. A plastic baggie that says "Give a blue pill to Joanie once a day" isn't helpful. Nor is dumping a handful of loose unidentifiable pills on the counter and mumbling "those are for Steve" as you rush out with a phone glued to your ear.

7. I am not the NSA. I am not trying to violate your privacy here. I really do need to know if your kid has epilepsy. Or diabetes. Or asthma. This is knowledge that can make the difference between Billy living or dying when he's brought to my office sick as shit. Writing "none of your business" or "PRIVATE!!!" on the medical history section doesn't make my job easier. If you're writing it because you're too lazy to call your ex and ask about medical history, grow a pair and and do it. This is about your kid, not you.

Have a great school year!

For more skool nerse stories, please see my page.

Pop quiz!

Time for another contest, class:

These gadgets were in an MRI-supply catalog that (for unknown reasons) showed up at my office. So let's forget I told you that.

Take out your #2 pencils, and try to come up with some creative answers as to what they might be. I've already started you off with three ideas. 

These items are:





A. The latest in BDSM equipment.

B. Props from the next Hannibal Lecter movie.

C. Um... stuff used in a new Olympic sport? From, uh, that country over on that other continent?