Memories...

When I went to Big State University in the 1980's, I worked in a campus department office.

A girl name Alyssa worked there, too. We did not like each other. No idea what it was, just bad chemistry I guess. The kind of thing where within a few seconds of meeting someone you know you hate them.

We were able to work politely, but everyone in the office knew the temp got colder when we were both in the same room. So we tried to stick with different jobs in the daily routine, and avoid each other.

Until, one day... disaster struck.

That afternoon someone gave us both THE SAME DAMN JOB. Booklets were needed for a meeting of some sort, and we had to put them together. This would likely have gone fine, except for one minor detail: we had to share one freakin' stapler.

It wasn't a standard stapler, either, but one of those heavy-duty office ones designed for thick stuff.

So here we were, each taking page 1 from one pile, page 2 from another, and so on (I think it was around 25 pages total) and stapling them together. As the stapler got shuffled back and forth across the table things got nastier and nastier, with each accusing the other of keeping it for too long, not using it when it was taken, and working too slowly.

At some point we both reached for the stapler at the same time, and began fighting over it. Each of us was trying to staple stuff and not let go of the stapler.

And then, it happened.

All I remember is that we both yelled at the same time, then began swearing. Somehow, we'd stapled ourselves together. The webbing between my right thumb and first finger now impaled through the same area of her left hand.

Blood and paper flew everywhere. Now we were REALLY angry, blaming the other for the accident. And we couldn't get the industrial-grade staple out. There was no option but to walk to student health.

We opened the door and walked out into the main office. People who knew we hated each other, and wondered what the screaming was about, were stunned to see us holding hands. We didn't really have much choice. As blood dripped on the floor she grabbed a box of tissues to staunch things.

We got a few (okay, a lot of) weird looks as we walked across BSU campus to student health. In the waiting room someone told me we looked like a botched suicide pact.

It took about 20 minutes until we were separated.

We both got fired. No idea where she is today.

Overheard in the doctors lounge

Trauma surgeon: "How are you liking the rotation?"

Surgery resident: "It's all right, but a lot of it just seems to be people doing stupid shit."

Trauma surgeon: "Yeah, but if you take that away... it's not much of a job."

Microbiology

Lady walks in, stands at desk.


Mary: "Hi, can I help you?"

Mrs. Pasteur: "Do you realize there are GERMS on your doorknob?"

Mary: "Ummm..."

Mrs. Pasteur: "This is unacceptable for a medical office. Do you have some Purell?"

Mary silently hands her a bottle of Purell. The lady wipes off the doorknob (which isn't, say, visibly filthy).

Mrs. Pasteur: "I'm here for my 11:00 appointment."

Mary: "Let me give you some forms to fill out, and can I get a copy of your insurance card?”

Mrs. Pasteur: "You just touched the pen! And the clipboard! Don't you wear gloves? Whatever happened to personal hygiene?!!!"

Mary: "I..."

Mrs. Pasteur: "I'm going elsewhere. I don't think your office is safe."


She heads for the door, turns back, grabs a Kleenex off the counter, uses it to turn the doorknob she'd just wiped off, drops the tissue on the floor, and leaves.

Veterans Day reruns

Being a history buff, veterans (especially WW2) are prized patients. I love talking to them and hearing their stories, and it's not uncommon for a guy who served to have to point out to me that's not the reason he came to the doctor.

But one veteran in particular stands out (I've told this story before, but not since 2009).

Bill was a pleasant 90 year-old guy. He was in the first wave at D-Day, and had a shirt full of medals.

By the time I met him, however, he was mildly demented. Macular degeneration and glaucoma had left him blind in one eye with severely impaired vision in the other. His reaction time was terrible.

And, of course, he was still driving. His son brought me pictures of the damage to Bill's car from hitting signs, walls, trees, pedestrians, whatever.

"My son exaggerates, doc. Nothing a little paint won't fix."

Bill stubbornly refused to stop, so I ordered a driving evaluation. Which, of course, he failed miserably. Although it pained me to do it, I filled out the paperwork to revoke his license.

About a week later Bill came in for a follow-up appointment (he took the bus). But he wasn't alone. And my office is pretty small.

He was accompanied by his friends from the local VFW chapter. Like, 8-10 of them. All were well over 80, and wearing their VFW hats.

To my horror, Bill was the only one left in the group who (until recently) hadn't lost his driver's license. As a result, he was their driver. And now he'd lost it, too.

"Give Bill his license back, Dr. Grumpy. You're our only hope"

All gave me glowing testimonials as to what a wonderful driver Bill is, with comments like:

"He almost never hits things."

"It's not his fault traffic lights are outside his visual field."

"Gus's Bar is pretty close, anyway."

"Everyone knows Bill's car, and watches out when they see him coming."

"It wasn't like the dog had an owner."

And my favorite:

"Doc, Bill drove a tank all over France. He's perfectly safe".


Thank you, veterans!

Huh?

I got dragged in to do a consult (and I'm not on call!) today. As per tradition, I stopped in the doctor's lounge to grab a Diet Coke on the way up to the floor.

It was the usual Saturday mid-day crowd of surgeons and hospitalists, some at computers, others watching the Saturday college football games.

As I paused to look at the score, some TV announcer chimed in "Be sure to stay with us at halftime. Many Big State University alumni died serving their country in World War II, and BSU invited them to today's game. Nearly 50 were able to be here, and there will be a special Veterans Day tribute by the marching band."

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

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

Mr. Ceruleus: "My dad died in his sleep, so I guess, um, sleeping?"

GET A FREE iPAD!

How many times have you seen that?

All the damn time. Every medical journal, CME service, and medical supply company has some such crap. If you order the gold-level service you get an iPad-mini, go with the platinum and you get an iPad. My wife has seen it from companies selling school nurse supplies in bulk

Of course, the iPad isn't really "free." Its cost is figured into whatever they're charging you for the purchase, or they're taking a slight loss hoping to get you as a loyal customer (doesn't work, guys. Ask any pharmacist who's forced to hand out gift cards to people who transfer a prescription).

But I digress.

Anyway, my point here is that pretty much EVERY professional level product is often sold with a "get a free iPad" gimmick.

Including, apparently, rats.

Yes, lab researchers, now you too can get a free iPad with your order of research rodents. Need some transgenic rats to test antibiotics? You've got an iPad-Mini! Doing cancer research on knockout rats? Get an iPad!

"Wait, where's the iPad they promised me?"

Be sure to use the promo code, which ingeniously is RatPadB13.

After all, with an iPad you don't need a mouse.

Thank you, Caillin!

Live entertainment

Mary: "Can I get a copy of your insurance card?"

Mr. Garda: "Sure, hang on... Um, I can't find it."

Lady Garda: "JIM!!! Did you lose it again?"

Mr. Garda: "I guess I did... It must have fallen out at the restaurant last night."

Lady Garda: "For Pete's sake! This is the 5th insurance card you've lost this year! I'm tired of calling them to get you a new one!"

Mr. Garda: "I'm sorry..."

Lady Garda: "You're lucky I carry an extra around for you!" (hands card to Mary) "You're a freakin' policeman! Grumpyville trusts you to carry a loaded gun everywhere, and you can't even keep track of a damn insurance card!"

It's 2:00 a.m.*

Midnight. One of my patients is in the Emergency Room:


Dr. ER: "So, it looks like she had another seizure."

Dr. Grumpy: "Yeah, she wanted me to leave her dose as it is, but at this point she'll need to increase it. Have her go to 2 pills twice a day."

Dr. ER: "Okay, should she come see you this week?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Yes... I want to talk to her. I know my 2:00 is open tomorrow afternoon, so have her come in then. I'll let my secretary know in the morning."

Dr. ER "Will do. Have a good night."

Two hours later, my phone chimes.

"Hello, Dr. Grumpy? I was in the ER earlier tonight, and they told me to come to your office at 2:00. So I'm here, but your office building is all locked up and dark. Can you please let me in?"


* The fear is gone

I don't wanna know

I'm going to hope this is a horrible transcription error, and not how someone broke their finger:

Thank you, K!

This guy is good

Thank you, ER's Mom!

Patient quote of the day

"It's not the important things I don't remember. It's the stuff that's important, but not as important as more important stuff. Some stuff, you know, is important and some isn't important important, but still important. So I remember most of the important important stuff, or least the important parts of what's important, but not other important stuff because it's just not as important. I think this is important."

Fine, then call Google

Dr. Grumpy: "What you have is called Essential Tremor. It's a form of tremor that..."

Mrs. Parscompacta: "Wait, are you saying I don't have Parkinson's disease?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Correct. Essential tremor is a different disorder that..."

Mrs. Parscompacta: "This is ridiculous. Of course I have Parkinson's disease."

Dr. Grumpy: "Why do you say that?"

Mrs. Parscompacta: "Because the internet says I do!"

Dr. Grumpy: "Ma'am, I can assure you that you don't..."

Mrs. Parscompacta: "I DEMAND YOU DIAGNOSE ME WITH PARKINSON'S DISEASE!!!"

Dr. Grumpy: "Why do you want Parkinson's Disease?"

Mrs. Parscompacta: "I'm your customer, damn it! Haven't you ever heard 'the customer is always right'?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Yes, but for this..."

Mrs. Parscompacta: "You're the 3rd neurologist I've seen, too. Obviously, I've learned more from Google than you idiots did in training."

Dear Helen Keller Services for the Blind,

Yesterday you sent this email to one of my readers, who kindly forwarded it to me.

And beyond that, I'm not going to say anything.

Thank you, Dilbert!