Hmmm...

While flipping through a patient's hospital chart yesterday, I discovered this:

Medical research

             

The British Medical Journal recently contributed an important piece of literature to answer an age-old nurses station question: "Who the hell ate the chocolate?"

The article's introduction states "Subjectively, we noted that chocolate boxes emptied quickly and that determining which healthcare professionals ate the most chocolates was a common source of workplace conflict. Literature on chocolate consumption by healthcare workers in a hospital setting is lacking."

To study this critical issue, the authors placed 2 boxes of chocolates (1 each of Cadbury Roses and Nestlé Quality Street) at the nurses stations of 4 floors in 3 separate hospitals (258 pieces of chocolate in total). They were covertly observed and critical data collected.


They found that:

1. When a box of chocolates is placed out on the ward, there's an average delay of 12 minutes before someone opens it. The Cadbury box was more likely to be opened first.

2. The half-life of a box (time until 50% of chocolates had been eaten) was 99 minutes. Chocolates that were still present at the end of the 4-hour observation period were deemed "lost to follow-up."  Overall, 74% of chocolates were eaten during the observation time.

3. Chocolates are consumed in a non-linear fashion: initially there's a flurry of consumption when a box is opened ("Oooh! Chocolates!") which gradually tapers off ("No, I've had enough") with increasing intervals between pieces being eaten ("I'm trying to diet.").

4. Cadbury chocolates were consumed faster than Nestlé.

5. A statistical breakdown of "WHO ATE THE CHOCOLATE?!!!" revealed the following:

"Medical students who reached for one were shot."

Personally, I believe further research is needed, and propose the following:

1. A similar study comparing dark vs. milk chocolate.

2. A study powered to prove/disprove that ones with nougat are the last to be eaten.

3. Comparison of M&M's (plain vs. peanut vs. pretzel vs. dark vs. peanut butter). For example, in my office the half-life of a 1 lbs. bag of the peanut-butter ones is about 38 seconds, while up front the plain ones go faster.

4. Getting a staff breakdown to figure out who's pushing in the bottom to see what filling it is. And when you find out, beating them senseless.


More research of this type is necessary, and so, when you hit up a doctor to bring in some chocolates, remind them you're only doing so for science.

Lastly, I loved the "authors' conflict of interest disclosure" from the article:

"Competing interests: All authors have completed the ICMJE uniform disclosure form and declare: no support from any organisation for the submitted work; no financial relationships with any organisations that might have an interest in the submitted work in the previous three years. Other non-financial relevant interests: PRG is particularly sentimental about, and incredibly fond of, Lindt Lindor white chocolate truffles; DJM advocates abstinence as the only effective way to avoid chocolate over-consumption; PLRN is influenced by the intoxicating smells emanating from the Cadbury’s chocolate factory at Bournville near his home; FDA supports her native Ghana’s cocoa exports by eating a single Heroes chocolate (Cadbury) every night; HEC declares an interest in polishing off leftover Bounty chocolates (Mars); RDM’s Germanic background means that he is hard-wired, like his brethren, to love all milk chocolate; and CAM reports a preference for Milkybar buttons (Nestlé)."


Thank you, Jodi!

2014

What's that? The Northern Lights? Nope.

It's obviously the night sky... and it is. With a single pale dot. You can see it if you look closely. It's roughly halfway down the ray of sunlight on the right.

It's not much. In our era of 10 megapixel cameras the dot is tiny. It's only 0.12 pixels, in fact.

And... that's us. That miniscule dot is planet Earth, seen from 3.7 billion miles (6 billion kilometers) away. Voyager 1 took the picture in 1990, looking backwards during its ongoing journey out of our solar system.

"From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it's different. Consider again that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

"The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena... Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity – in all this vastness – there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

"The Earth is the only world known, so far, to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment, the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience.

"There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."

- Carl Sagan.

Boxing Day sales

Mrs. Grumpy bought a new vacuum at a post-Christmas sale. And, I must say, I think they nailed us.

Anyway, I'm signing off for a week to spend quality time with the kids, dog, and likely vacuum. We're mercifully going to get away from the snow for a few days, too, and visit relatives. I have one scheduled post for New Year's Day, but otherwise things will be quiet here until January 6, 2014.

Happy new year to all!

BREAKING MEDICAL RESEARCH!!!

Apparently from "The Journal of No Shit, Sherlock."

Christmas day, 2:10 p.m.

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

Mr. Dickens: "Hi, I need you to call in some Imitrex for my sister."

Dr. Grumpy: "What's her name?"

Mr. Dickens: "Martha Cratchit."

Dr. Grumpy (grabs iPad): "Hang on... She's not in my system..."

Mr. Dickens: "Well, she sees a neurologist in Grumpyville. Aren't you guys all connected?"

Dr. Grumpy: "No. You'll need to call her neurologist."

Mr. Dickens: "I don't know who that is. Can't you help me out? It's her Christmas present."

Dr. Grumpy: "Imitrex? Is this a prank call?"

Mr. Dickens: "NO! My sister takes it for her migraines, and I thought I'd get her some."

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, but I can't help you. She's not my patient."

Mr. Dickens: "Can you at least tell me what pharmacy she goes to, and if it's open today?"

Dr. Grumpy: "I have no idea. Look, I can't help you, and..."

Mr. Dickens: "Isn't it in the neurological database thingie you guys use?"

Dr. Grumpy: "There is no such thing."

Mr. Dickens: "Where's your Christmas spirit? Help me out here."

Dr. Grumpy: "I can't call in a prescription on a patient I don't know."

Mr. Dickens: "Scrooge."

(click)

December 25, 1914

Trench warfare is nothing new, but in World War I it became the standard. The Western Front was a seemingly endless series of ditches inhabited by young men ordered to kill each other.

The British Empire, France, and (later in the war) America faced off against the Germans, with a few hundred yards of No-Man's Land between them. For most of the tragedy of WWI it was a stalemate. Each side would shoot at the other, or throw grenades, but to leave your trench for an exposed position was almost certain death.

Winter made the trenches even worse. Men were exposed to the elements. The ground was too frozen to dig easily. Snow would melt and fill them with mud that got everywhere. And it was bitter cold. There was no comfortable place to rest or eat, and sanitary facilities were nonexistent at the front. Day after day men staked out their positions against each other.

Christmas of 1914 was just another day. It was cold. The worst war the world had ever faced up to that time was in its 5th month, and the Western Front had already become a stalemate. They shot at each other here and there, but mostly waited.

Even in the most inhumane of surroundings, people still try to be people. Both sides put up a few Christmas decorations in their frozen ditches. On the night of December 24, German soldiers in Ypres lit holiday candles and sang a few Christmas carols. The light gave British soldiers targets... but they didn't shoot.

Then the British soldiers began singing carols, too. The languages may differ, but the music doesn't change. "Silent Night" was the favorite, as it was commonly known in both countries.

After a while, men began leaving their trenches, walking across the desolate No Man's Land. No one fired a shot, even though exposed targets were everywhere. They shook hands and exchanged small gifts, food, and cigarettes. Most knew enough of the others language to talk.

Due to recent fighting there were still bodies on the ground. They each gathered their dead, dug a mass grave together, and buried them. They held a joint memorial ceremony in the freezing night.

The sun rose over Christmas day, to find them still gathered. Soccer balls were produced and matches were played on and off all day. One soldier recalled so many wanted to play that one game had teams of roughly 50 men on each side of the field.

Beats killing each other, eh?

A British officer, who collected trinkets, approached a German officer and asked to exchange uniform buttons. The German produced a scissor, quickly snipped 2 off their heavy coats, and they traded them.

A British machine-gunner who'd been a barber in civilian life spent the day giving haircuts to any German who asked. Many of the young men had been on the front for months, and wanted a trim.

Similar events went on across the Western Front, some ending on December 26, though in other areas they continued to New Years Day. One British captain later described a sing-along which "ended up with 'Auld lang syne' which we all, English, Scots, Irish, Prussians, Wurttenbergers, etc, joined in. It was absolutely astounding, and if I had seen it on a cinematograph film I should have sworn that it was faked!"

"That's funny... Except for their uniforms these guys look just like us!"

 
Officers behind the front were horrified when word of these events drifted back to them. Both sides began posting higher-ranking officials in the front to maintain discipline around the holidays, and strict punishments were threatened for those who celebrated with the enemy.

These rules reduced them, but similar events continued to occur. In 1915 a German soldier wrote that "when the Christmas bells sounded in the villages of the Vosges behind the lines ..... something fantastically unmilitary occurred. German and French troops spontaneously made peace and ceased hostilities; they visited each other through disused trench tunnels, and exchanged wine, cognac and cigarettes for black bread, biscuits and ham." He described the No Man's Land they gathered in as "strewn with shattered trees, the ground plowed up by shellfire, a wilderness of earth, tree-roots, and tattered uniforms."

And in 1916 a 23 year-old Canadian soldier wrote home that German and Canadian soldiers near Vimy Ridge shared Christmas greetings and traded presents: "Here we are again as the song says. I had quite a good Christmas considering I was in the front line. Christmas eve was pretty stiff, sentry-go up to the hips in mud of course. ... We had a truce on Christmas Day and our German friends were quite friendly. They came over to see us and we traded bully beef for cigars."

There are (roughly) 8,700,000 known species on Earth, only one of which routinely kills its own kind in large, deliberate, numbers. War can bring out the worst our species has to offer. Less frequently, though, it reminds us that we are the same. Our causes, weapons, and names change with time. But we are still people.

Winter vacation ditziness

I walk in the TV room to find Marie on the couch with Mello, surrounded by bags of chips and some sodas. She's watching Toy Story 3.


Dr. Grumpy: "Marie, do you know who does the voice of Barbie?"

Marie: "No."

Dr. Grumpy: "The same lady who did the voice of Princess Ariel."

Marie: "Really? They don't look alike."

Best used car ad EVER

Sooner or later, I'm going to have to unload my 2000 Maxima. When I do, I'm pretty sure I won't be nearly as creative as this guy, who sold his 1996 one with this ad.





Original story.

Thank you, Don!

Dr. Grumpy's gift guide

Today wraps up the 2013 guide. Thank you to all who sent ideas, and keep them coming! I'll be doing this again next year, and they'll be featured then.

"Patella" is such a great word. I mean, nothing about the sound of it would ever make you think it's just a kneecap.

Better yet is Patella Brothers. Unlike Mario Brothers, these guys design some interesting housewares, including dinner plates.

Want to freak your guests out? Why not serve them on a plate with bugs on it?

"Waiter, there's a bug in my ceramic."

This next one features a rock, nails, and a dead roach stuck in goo! Doesn't that help your diet?

"Honey, next time the Grumpys invite us over, tell them we have plans."

And this one is a strange combination of objects titled "I Eat You Pinoccio" (REALLY!).

Be sure to check out the rest of their stuff at the link above.

I hope you all enjoyed the 2013 gift guide. If you got some good ideas from it, you should probably see a neurologist.


IG

Dr. Grumpy's gift guide

Doesn't your dog deserve something nice this year, like clean and shiny fur?

I can't vouch for the quality of this brand, but I must say they have an, um, interesting name for their line of pet-hair-care products. The kind that will make snooping dinner guests call the ASPCA when they see it in your medicine cabinet.

"Oooh... They even have one called 'Dirty Talk' and another named 'Quickie.' "

Commodity trading

Here in the U.S., and pretty much ALL of the civilized world, money is still the standard method of financial transactions. Barter is generally not accepted. Especially when it involves a large, potentially dangerous, carnivore instead of currency.

Apparently, though, Mr. Fernando Aguilera of Florida hadn't heard of this. Thirsty, wanting a beer, and having no money, he decided to catch a live ALLIGATOR (a 4 foot long juvenile), carry it into a liquor store, and offer to trade it for a 12-pack. Being a gentleman, Mr. Aguilar was willing to take any brand they'd give him.

The owner of the store not only declined Mr. Aguilar's gracious offer, but called police (the alligator was underage).

Police have charged Mr. Aguilar with possessing an alligator (and, subsequently, assaulting a TV reporter). The alligator has been returned to the wild. And, inevitably, a local official said “I have never experienced anything like this in 25 years in law enforcement.”

And in Florida, that means something.

Thank you, Don!

Dr. Grumpy's gift guide

Guys are terrible at thinking of gifts. I know I am. You just never know what to get your special someone, something that says it all.

But now there's an easy answer: coated globs of moose shit!

 

These lovely accessories are available in earrings, necklaces, cufflinks, and a wide variety of forms. No moose were harmed in the manufacturing process, though I suspect some intestinal bacteria didn't fare as well.

Holiday memories

Back where I trained, he ran one of the country's top neurosurgery residencies. Before his retirement he was widely considered one of the best brain surgeons in the world, and people came from all over the planet to see him.

His position, and skill, brought him enormous financial rewards. Because of the size of his house he threw a large Christmas party every year to which all the neurology and neurosurgery people were invited, including peons like me and the other neurology residents.

He was also socially inept, and entertainment was never his thing. Obligated to host the party, he firmly planted himself by the door, greeting all who came with "Glad you could make it. Food is to your left, bar on the right." This was his mantra, repeated endlessly all evening until it was replaced with repetitions of "Thank you for coming. The valet is to your right."

For one night every year he was the highest paid doorman on Earth.

I went to his parties for 4 consecutive years. In that time I never once saw him leave the door (maybe he had a foley) and never heard him say anything there outside of those 2 phrases.

We all learn a lot from residency. Among other things, I learned I didn't want to be a doorman.