Halloween memories - epilogue

For those wondering after reading Friday's post...

This, in memory of my grandfather, is the tie I wore. He bought it as an honest-to-God ordinary tie that he wore to his job. It is truly one of my most prized possessions, because, let's face it, ties this hideous aren't easy to find.

Sure, you can buy lots of gag ties that are intentionally horrid, but what makes this thing so awesome is that someone designed it in the 60's-70's as a serious tie for men to wear to business meetings, Bar Mitzvahs, whatever. And my grandfather paid good money for it and DID JUST THAT.

The day I found it in his closet, I knew I'd stumbled on something rare and worth keeping. Someday I'm sure one of my descendants will do the same.

The picture doesn't do the bright colors justice. The vibrant reds, oranges, pinks, yellows, golds, whites, and a few previously undescribed hues make a pattern so striking... It looks like Roy G. Biv threw up.

Also, it's so wide at the bottom that you could wear a midriff shirt and no one would notice.

Yes, I really did wear it to work. Be jealous.

Halloween Memories

A long time ago, in a medical office building far, far, away...

As my regular readers know, before I went solo I worked for a large group called Humungous Neurology, Incorporated (HNI).

I left them for a lot of reasons, one of which (as is usually the case) was money. I won't go into too many details, but when I left my "contract-guaranteed" salary had been slashed by roughly 75% (to less than I'd made as a resident) because the money was needed for "the research budget."

By coincidence, my last day working for HNI happened to fall on Halloween.

So that day I came to the office (with a full schedule of patients) wearing an old pair of pants that I'd used to paint the house, a shirt with holes in it, a sock on only 1 foot, a pair of badly mismatched rundown shoes, and, for the pièce de résistance, this horribly hideous 70's era tie that I found while cleaning stuff at my grandparents' house.

When people asked me what my costume was, I told them I was an HNI neurologist, who couldn't afford decent clothes.

Repeating oneself... a symptom of...

Medication list from a patient (highlights added).

For those not in the medbiz, Donepazil is used for Alzheimer's disease.

Thank you, Gary!

Skool Nerse time

This is Mrs. Grumpy.


Kid wanders into my office.

Nurse Grumpy: "What's up?"

Kid: (wailing) "I was playing in the sandbox and got sand all over my hands and under my fingernails!"

Nurse Grumpy: "Have you tried washing your hands?"

Kid: "Ummm... No."

Nurse Grumpy: "Go wash them in my sink over there. Use soap."

(Kid washes hands)

Kid: "It's all better now!"

Nurse Grumpy: "Okay, go have fun."

Kid: "I'm going back to the sandbox. What a neat trick!"

Doctor's lounge, Sunday morning, 6:18 a.m.

Cardiologist: "The coffee machine is broken."

Neurosurgeon: "Ah shit. I really needed some, too."

Neurologist: "I don't think they come in on weekends to fix it, either."

Pulmonologist: "They don't. We're fucked."

Cardiologist: "Maybe we can do something..." (Opens front of machine).

Neurologist: "Wow, what a mess."

Neurosurgeon: "I think this thing that fell over holds the used grounds."

Neurologist: "Yeah." (dumps grounds in trash, rinses holder in sink, puts it back in machine).

Nothing happens.

Pulmonologist: "It's still not working."

Neurosurgeon: "Let me see... Here, look. The part that feeds the filter paper roll got doubled up and twisted. It's stuck."

Neurologist: "Hang on..." (pulls out filter paper roll) "Ah, okay, looks like it wasn't put in correctly. Let me turn it around and toss the jammed paper."

Machine starts gurgling.

Pulmonologist: "It's working! Yay! Coffee!"

(All get coffee)

Cardiologist: "That's amazing."

Neurosurgeon: "The coffee gadget?"

Cardiologist: "No. For the first time in medical history it was a neurosurgeon who made the correct diagnosis, and a neurologist who fixed it."

The pulmonologist blew her coffee all over the bagels.

Dog WIN!

Christmakuh is coming

So, if any of you guys have horrifying gift ideas you'd like to submit for this year's catalog, please send them in!

It's just a jump to the left

Seen in a cardiologist's hospital dictation:

Dear American Medical Association,

Thank you for the brochure I received from you and Mercedes-Benz, making me aware of the great car deals available to physicians.

I'm glad to see the AMA is still living in some sort of fairytale land where doctors have money trees growing in their yards. This sort of stereotype only fuels the already crappy image the public has of us.

Here's the reality: In 2013 (my worst year ever, due to several factors) Dr. Grumpy's solo practice salary came out to $99,354. That's working 60-70 hours per week, with 4 weeks of vacation.

Now, I'm NOT (emphasize NOT) complaining or bragging. I'm just stating this as a fact, to make a point. I know there are MANY people who'd be grateful to be able to make that. I'm thrilled to have a job I like that allows me to support my family.

But the reality is this: I drive a 14 year-old Nissan Maxima with the passenger door smashed in. Sending me a booklet telling me that, as a "qualified physician," I can save $1000 off a $92,000 S-Class sedan, $3000 off a $72,100 CLS-Class coupe, $4000 off a $116,000 CL-Class coupe, $3000 off a $114,200 G-Class SUV, or $3000 off a $106,700 SL-Class roadster... just shows me how fucking incredibly out-of-touch you guys are with the reality facing today's doctors.

Granted, I'm not a member of your organization. Honestly, I'd rather spend the $420 annual fee on my kids. To the best of my knowledge, an AMA membership gets me a journal I don't have time to read, discounted admission to an annual meeting I won't go to, and, obviously, a token discount on a car I can't afford. In fact, if I was a member, I'd be pretty pissed to find out this is what you were spending my annual fees on: getting me a deal on an imported car that costs more than I made last year.

American medicine is in a serious crisis right now. I'm not going to take political sides, as there are plenty of blogs for that. But my point here is that you guys are obviously clueless as to how much docs are really making.

Not to mention medical students. The next generation of docs are coming out of school $200,000 in debt. Residency pays maybe $40,000 a year, and they're at the ages where they're starting families, buying first homes, etc. Then they get to go earn practice salaries that (like mine) are dropping each year. So realistically the only "luxury automobile" they'll get to ride in... is a hearse.

Note to medical students- if you're doing this thinking you're going to get rich, just stop now and cut your losses. In fact, I'd get out regardless of why you're doing this.

But, I'm glad to see you AMA guys are on the ball. I'm sure there are SOME doctors out there who can blow that kind of money on a car (likely all on your board of directors) and it's reassuring to know you're doing something to benefit them.

The rest of us hard-working docs trying to practice ethical front-line medicine will stick with our old cars with the sides smashed in.

With a capital E

Mrs. Eword: "So, anyway, I want an MRI, and can do it today."

Dr. Grumpy: "I agree with getting one, but your insurance requires a pre-authorization. I'll have my staff get started on that, but it takes a few days and..."

Mrs. Eword: "I don't think you heard me. I want it NOW. While I'm here."

Dr. Grumpy: "Well, it has to be scheduled with an MRI facility and your insurance. I don't do them here."

Mrs. Eword: "What do you mean you don't do them here? You're a neurologist, aren't you?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Yes, and I order MRI's, but don't have the machine in my office. We use Local MRI, across the street and..."

Mrs. Eword: "I cannot believe this. What's that room I passed with the door closed down the hall here? There was a lot of noise. Isn't that your MRI?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Uh, that's the bathroom. They're replacing the sink's pipes today."

Mrs. Eword: "So you've been wasting my time this morning. Doesn't other peoples time mean anything to you? This is incredibly inconsiderate."

Dr. Grumpy: "I..."

Mrs. Eword: "I'll go elsewhere." (gets up, leaves)

Bite me

The kids had a healthy breakfast of Costco chocolate muffins yesterday, one of which had a minor defect.

But they felt the need to text it to me:

Details

I'm with a patient, when Mary knocks on my office door.

Mary: "Dr. Schnozz is on the phone, says he needs to talk to you ASAP."

Dr. Grumpy: "Excuse me..." grabs phone "This is Dr. Grumpy."

Dr. Schnozz: "Hi, we have a mutual patient, Mr. Platelet, and he was here with his wife a short while ago for his sinuses. Anyway, I'm concerned he needs you to work him in urgently."

Dr. Grumpy: "What's up? I mean, he was just here this morning at 9:00."

Dr. Schnozz: "Really? They didn't mention that. Anyway, he's weak on his left side, and I'm worried he had a stroke."

Dr. Grumpy: "He DID have a stroke. I had him in the hospital last week for it, and I saw him today in follow-up. He's weak on the left, and I ordered physical therapy."

Dr. Schnozz: "They didn't tell me that either. Never mind."

Memories... part 3

Dr. Tallahatchie went home. Because he was unable to use stairs for several weeks, and his apartment building didn't have an elevator, he needed to find a place to stay that was on the first floor.

Which, as it turned out, was my apartment.

So, 3 of us went to his place to haul crap he needed for a few weeks to survive, like some clothes and CD's, over to my abode.

As he waited in the car, he suddenly realized he'd forgotten to tell us to get something else he needed: his comic book collection. So, grabbing his crutches, he got out and hobbled over to the staircase. Since we didn't respond to his yelling, he decided to try ascending a few stairs... and fell. Landing on his recently broken leg.

The leg, fortunately, was covered in such a huge cast that it was indestructible. But it still hurt like hell. We ran down the stairs to help him back up.

He was pale and looked quite uncomfortable. Without saying a word he reached into a pocket and pulled out the newly-filled bottle of Percocet we'd just picked up. He poured several into his mouth, chewed them up and swallowed, then hobbled back to the car.

All he said then was "Wake me when we get to your place."

Memories... part 2

Dr. Tallahatchie, as anticipated, required a fairly lengthy surgical procedure. He'd broken his leg in 3 places, 1 of which was a compound fracture.

Even worse (from his view) was that they wouldn't let him smoke.

Recovery from this sort of thing is not painless. After surgery he was put on a morphine PCA pump. For those of you not in medicine, this is a gadget that delivers IV narcotics controlled by the hospital patient. You need more morphine? Press a button and it gives you some. The pump is programmed with a maximum amount and frequency you can receive, and is locked out with a security code.

20 years ago, however, the security codes were only 4 digits, and Dr. Tallahatchie had a photographic memory. After watching the nurse set it up, it took him only a few tries to hack it. Due to ongoing pain, he increased his morphine dose. This made him much more comfortable.

Nursing found him still breathing, but unable to be woken. The internal medicine service, comically, called for a neurology consult, and my colleague, Dr. Violet, told them exactly what the problem was.

So they took his PCA pump away. Since his vital signs were okay Violet didn't have the heart to use Narcan.

As a result of the overdose, the good doctor was now unable to pee, and so a foley catheter was ordered. His nurse started the procedure, only to be stopped when Dr. Tallahatchie suddenly became wide awake, sat-up, and yelled "HEY! THAT'S MY WINKIE!!!"

Although now more alert, he still couldn't run the water. And when the nurse came at him with the foley again, he asked her to give him a few minutes to "prepare himself."

She stepped out, and he frantically paged me, asking me to bring him a pair of sterile size 7 gloves. He didn't say why, but I realized what was up when I got there. He took the gloves and told me to distract the nurse for 5 more minutes. He wasn't going to let anyone touch his winkie.

When the nurse came back, she was stunned to see he'd put it in himself. Correctly.

Note: As of yesterday, Dr. Tallahatchie confirmed that (20 years later) he still smokes and drinks. He has not, however, attempted climbing a tree again.