Hawaiian vacation, day 1

Due to requests that I re-start my vacation series, I now present my summary of our trip to the islands. For those who haven't read my past vacation archives, they can be found here.


Our trip got off to a wild start with Craig.

Craig HATES flying. In the days leading up to the trip he became increasingly worked-up about going, and convinced himself that we were going to have a horrible time (no, he's never been to Hawaii before).

This reached a comical highlight the night before we left. Mrs. Grumpy sent me to get some extra socks for the kids, and so I went to his room. He was on the phone with a teen-crisis hotline, hysterical about going on the family vacation.

One can only imagine the thoughts going through the mind of the crisis volunteer on the other end. I imagine all the issues she'd heard that day:

"My stepfather is sexually abusing me."

"Mom won't stop drinking, and my Dad left us."

"My parents are taking me to Hawaii."

By nature of this job I'm pretty good at keeping a straight face. But I likely would have had to mute the line if I were the one dealing with Craig's call.

Of course, once we got to the airport he was fine, worried only about his hair.

Mrs. Grumpy and my mom took the kids to the overpriced McD's for breakfast, and I sat down at the gate to get some work done. I try to ignore others at airports and on planes. Don't talk to me, I won't talk to you, and we'll be fine.

Unfortunately, many disagree with this view. No sooner had I sat down and started work on some CME than a lady plopped down next to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and screamed "Can you believe this is all the hummus they give you for $8?"

I looked at the styrofoam container she was waving around, and tried to discourage her by saying "mmmph" and turning back to my reading.  That only led her to believe I was deaf, mute, or both. So she stuck the thing under my nose and said "SERIOUSLY!!! THIS WAS $8! ISN'T THAT AN OUTRAGE?"

Failing to get my attention, she moved to a guy in a business suit, who pretended to be on a phone call. Then she went over to bug some family, who told her to go complain at the food place. She then left the gate area, making me wonder if the whole thing was a TSA test of some sort.

A few minutes elapsed. Then a guy in a business suit sat down on my other side, whipped out a phone, and immediately began talking loudly into it with phrases like "Did you talk to the senator?", "I have meetings with senators all week. This is a MAJOR national issue," and "You need to realize how much money is involved at this level. It's very serious." He kept this up until he realized no one around was staring at him, so he left the gate, too. Hopefully someone catches him and re-starts his medication.

Mercifully, Mrs. Grumpy and the kids returned, scaring off other attention-seekers with some I'm more familiar with.

Our flight was delayed because an overhead bin had a faulty lock, and wouldn't stay closed. We watched as 2-3 different techs got on the plane, tried to fix it, got out a greasy maintenance book, argued about which screw was the problem, and then finally left to find a different type of screwdriver. While they were off the plane some guy in a "Binford Tools" t-shirt got out of his seat, slammed it closed, and punched the lock with his bare hand. When the tech guys came back it was working fine, and we got to take off.

At one point during the flight Craig got up to go brush his hair in the bathroom, so I went to to get something out of my carry-on. I noticed this suitcase in the bin. I'm not sure if the suitcase is inoperable, or the medical equipment, or both. And if the medical equipment is inoperable, why is it being flown around? Or even left on the plane, for that matter?

While I didn't bother with the in-flight entertainment, I did look up at one point to see an excerpt from a television show with 3 guys pairing beers with different varieties of Rocky Mountain Oysters. I guess it beats combining them into 1 beverage.


The best part about the Maui airport is that even the restroom signs are on vacation:

Because, if there's anything more relaxing than a laid-back bathroom stick-figure, I don't know what it is.

Kahului airport here is conveniently located next to a Costco. This, I suspect, is probably the busiest Costco in the world, as it's constantly packed with people who just got off planes and are there to stock up on Diet Coke, bagels, beer, and other essential vitamins & minerals. And, of course, to have lunch after your flight. Because the lady bitching about hummus at the airport has nothing on the people who just shelled out $9.50 for a bag of nuts during the flight.

Thursday afternoon

"I have headaches all the time. Even when I don't have a headache, I know I'm secretly having one."

Skool Nerse time

This is Mrs. Grumpy.

School is starting soon, and, as your school nurse, I'd like to offer some tips to help make this a better year for all of us.

1. I'm happy to handle your child's medications. That's part of what I do. Please be sure to bring them in with useful instructions. DO NOT drop them off outside my office door after I've left, or hang them in a grocery bag on the school's front gate overnight. Have you people seen the kind of neighborhood Douglas C. Kenney Elementary school is in? Billy's bottle of Adderall is worth a lot of money here, and likely made some junkie very happy. Can't imagine how you explained that to your pediatrician.

2. Where it says "Allergies" on the form, writing "yes," "sometimes," or "depends" doesn't give me much useful information. Please be sure to include details, like what Sara is allergic to (unless she really is allergic to Depends).

3. Writing movies you don't want your kids seeing is not what the forms are for. Talk to the teacher. I understand, as I'm sick of the music from "Frozen," too, but I'm not the person who deals with this.

4. Some of your kids know my kids. Fine. As a result, they know my kid's cell phone numbers. That's fine, too. BUT my kids are NOT a reliable way to pass messages to me in my capacity as the school nurse. Hell, they aren't a reliable way to pass messages AT ALL. Having your kid text my kid something like "Lacey has a fever of 104 and rash, can she still come to school?" or "Please have Phil in your office at 8:15 so I can take him to the dentist" should not be relayed through my kids. Stop it. I have a direct line and emails. They're on the school's website.

5. Calling the above number is not going to get you an appointment with my husband. Depending on how badly you piss me off when trying, the opposite might occur.

6. Although I said this before, I need to emphasize it. DO NOT claim to be part of Jenny McCarthy's Army just because you're too damn lazy to get me your kids vaccination records. If as many of you were anti-vaccine as claim to be, you wouldn't be alive.

7. On the form where it asks who's allowed to pick up your kids "anyone I send" is not an acceptable answer.

8. Writing "Do not allow wasps or bees to sting Evan" will not prevent them from doing so. Please address such requests to the Apocritae. I will only show it around the office, and we will laugh at you.

9. I keep "emergency" clothes up here for accidents. This is not the charity shopping mall. Do not send your kids in to "see if there's anything good."

10. No matter what you put on the form, there is absolutely no medical reason for a 7 year old to be carrying a cigarette lighter to school. Don't argue with me.


Thank you! Everyone have a great year!

Sigh

Dr. Grumpy: "So, how are you doing with the new medication?"

Mr. Noventa: "It's awful! It isn't helping my symptoms, and hurts my stomach. It also makes me sleepy all the time, I can't concentrate, and I think it's thinning my hair."

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, then why don't you stop it, and we'll try switching you to..."

Mr. Noventa: "I'd rather continue it, because I just bought a 90 day supply."

Smokin'

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

Mr. Cheech: "Hi, I need to make an appointment with Dr. Grumpy."

Mary: "Okay, we can see you on..."

Mr. Cheech: "I don't have insurance. Does he accept other forms of payment?"

Mary: "Well, we take MasterCard, Visa, AMEX..."

Mr. Cheech: "No, I mean, like, in trade? I grow pot in my shed, and can give you some buds."

Mary: "No, we don't accept payment of that sort."

Mr. Cheech: "It's really high quality, organic. I don't use pesticides or any of that shit."

Gratitude

Dear Mrs. Patient,

I'm glad you're feeling better. It was nice of you to send me a thank you card. I actually treasure notes like yours, and keep them in (as my friend Amanda Brown calls it) the "I don't suck box." On really bad days I read stuff from it for solace, and to reassure myself that I really am doing my best, and some people appreciate that.

BUT I must admit, none of the notes I've previously received, in 15 years of doing this, came on a card with a picture quite like yours:

Run, Run, Away

All right, gang. With only a few weeks left before the kids head back to school, it's time for the annual Grumpy family Summer vacation. So we're loading up the minivan and adding pontoons for a 5000 mile drive.

I may post infrequently over the next 2 weeks, as time allows, but will return to my regular schedule in 2 weeks.

Major

Dr. Grumpy: "Any other major health issues?"

Mr. Durante: "I sneeze once a day, sometimes twice."

Memories...

It was the early 1970's. I don't remember the man's name. Maybe I never knew it.

My Dad didn't know it either, but he helped him.

Dad was downtown, driving home from his law practice one afternoon. I don't remember the time of year.

He was stopped at a red light while people crossed in front of his car. One was an elderly man with a cane. One of his legs was shorter than the other, and so he had a shoe with a platform bottom on that side to support him.

As he hobbled across the street, he tripped and fell, landing on his chest. The cane went flying, and he was unable to get back up. While he struggled to get to his feet the typical rush hour traffic began honking and yelling at him.

Dad got out, and helped the man up. The cane was gone, smashed by a car trying to beat the yellow light. He got the man to his feet, but without the cane he couldn't walk. So Dad put an arm around the elderly stranger, and got him to his car. He put him in the passenger seat, figuring then he'd find out where he lived and drive him home.

The man was scared, and badly shaken up. A stranger had just run out in front of traffic and yelling people to help him. And now my Dad learned he didn't speak a word of English - just Italian.

Nowadays maybe people would have left the man lying there, called police on their call phone, and driven around him. Or helped him to the edge of the curb and left him there for someone else to find. Or just not given a shit at all and continued honking at him.

But Dad brought him back to our house.

There was no cell phone. The first hint we had that anything was up was when Dad came in the carport door, supporting an elderly man I'd never seen before. He called my Mom, and as he explained what happened they got him to a chair at the kitchen table. Mom got him some water and a few band-aids for his bumps and scrapes.

Dad went to the phone. A friend of his was a doctor, whose father was an Italian immigrant. He reached him at his office as he was finishing up for the day, and the good doctor immediately called his father (who was fluent in both English and Italian) and they came to our house.

While the doctor checked him over, his father spoke to the man, and they quickly got his information. He didn't know the phone number of the building he lived at, but knew the address. It was a few miles from where he'd fallen, and he'd been on his way to the bus stop to go home when the accident happened.

The doctor's father drove the man home a short while later, though they stopped at the drugstore for a new cane.

I never saw the man again, but the memory is still there. A frail looking elderly man in a black suit, white shirt, and dark Homburg hat. The one shoe with the platform bottom. Sitting at the formica table in our yellow 70's kitchen.

I don't recall my Dad mentioning the events of that day again. I don't think I even remember him talking to me directly about it while it was going on. But I learned a lot that day that I hope I never forget.

Annie's desk

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

Mr. Blood: "Hi, I have a question about the labs Dr. Grumpy ordered."

Annie: "Sure, what's up?"

Mr. Blood: "It says here the labs are fasting."

Annie: "Yeah, that's standard for what he wants done."

Mr. Blood: "Okay, but am I the one who has to be fasting? Or is it the tech who draws them?"

Glad they cleared that up

Last night I was at a meeting about an upcoming drug study, and this was one of the slides:

I wanted to ask what they consider REALLY serious.

Words

On call yesterday I was in ER, examining a lady who'd just had a seizure. From the other side of the curtain I hear this:


Her: "Did you cover it? I don't want to catch diseases."

Him: "Yes. Now I'm going to put it in."

Her: "Please be gentle. I'm very sensitive there."

Him: "Of course."

Her: "Is it in yet?"

Him: "Just a little bit, I need to put it in further."

Her: "Ow! Don't push so hard!"

Him: "Sorry... It's in now."

Her: "I can feel it."

Him: "And... I'm done. I pulled it out. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Her: "Only when you first put it in, but it went fast."


And it was... A male nurse checking a tympanic temperature on an elderly lady.

Sigh

Mrs. Seven: "I also take Spazon-XR."

Dr. Grumpy (looking at her list): "You take that just once a week?"

Mrs. Seven: "No, it's every Saturday."

Looking for clues

Mr. Construction: "My hands have been getting numb over the last few years."

Dr. Grumpy: "Any change in your activities in that time?"

Mr. Construction: "Nope. Same old boring job."

Dr. Grumpy: "Is there..."

Mr. Construction: "I hope you can figure this out, doc. It makes it hard to hold a jackhammer all day."