Weekend reruns

The phones were really ringing today, and so a few calls went to voice mail. Annie had me listen to this one:

"Hi, this is Suzy Frazzled. I'm a social worker involved in the medical case of Kathy Smith. I'm calling to see if you have any records on her. You probably don't, because none of the other doctors on the list she gave me have ever heard of her, either, and I'm on my last damn nerve dealing with her. Anyway, she's blaming every freaking illness she has on a piece of cotton that was left in her ear 2 years ago after she had a glob of wax taken out. Thinks she's won the freaking lottery, apparently. What? No Bob, I don't have that info here. I've been working on Mrs. Smith all damn morning. How come you don't get these cases? The boss gives me all this shit, and it's not fair. Where the hell do these people come from and why do they always end up on my desk? Why can't I get normal cases? Oh, sorry, hello? Anyway, please call me back and let me know if you've ever heard of this lady."

Sigh

Dr. Grumpy: "Which orthopedist did you see?"

Mr. Vague: "He works over on the south side. It was a Dr. Hansen, or Martin. Maybe it was Stevens or Smith. It could have started with an 'S', but I'm not sure. You know who I'm talking about, right?"

Memories...

A long, long, long, time ago, during my college years... I was a volunteer working in an ER.

It was a fairly small ER, and I was allowed to do A LOT of things that volunteers today aren't. It was nice, because my help was genuinely appreciated, and I was made to feel like part of the staff.

Anyway, one day an elderly lady came in with trouble breathing. While the doctor examined Mrs. Gasping, the nurse and I hooked her up to some oxygen. She went to turn on the O2, handed me the oxygen mask, and asked me to put it on the patient.

So I was placing it on the lady's face when the elastic band snapped over, pulling the plastic mask to the side.

To my horror, her whole nose flew off. We hadn't been told she had a prosthetic nose to replace one lost to skin cancer.

The nose clattered over the gurney and onto the floor. I screamed, thinking I'd somehow accidentally torn her nose off. The nurse shrieked. The doctor jumped back. I saw my entire dream of a medical career vanish.

Her husband started laughing, picked up the nose, put it in her purse, and set the oxygen mask on correctly.

I hid in the bathroom for a while.

Better living through pharmacology

2:28 a.m.

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

Mrs. Insomnia: "Hi, my husband sees Dr. Cortex for epilepsy."

Dr. Grumpy: "Is he having a seizure?"

Mrs. Insomnia: "Oh, no. He's fine. He takes Felbacetam."

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, so why are you calling? Is he out?"

Mrs. Insomnia: "No, we have about 3 weeks left. But it requires an annual authorization from the insurance company to continue, and Dr. Cortex's nurse put the request in last week. Do you know if they've heard anything back yet?"

Dr. Grumpy: "No. Why don't you call his office when they open in the morning and ask?"

Mrs. Insomnia: "That's a good idea. Thank you, doctor. Have a great night."

A rose by any other name

Karen writes in:

"Dr. Grumpy, I've worked at different doctor's offices for over 20 years. But was still surprised when an infusion pharmacy rep came by recently and left his card and company information."

I'm going to have to agree with you, Karen. That's a TERRIBLE name for a pharmacy. Or pretty much any business (I wouldn't have dinner at DikPizza). Unless it's a sex shop.

According to the website, Dik is the owner's last name. And I respect that. Putting your name on a business is pretty universal. It's his name, and he's proud of it. But still, I think you have to take meanings into account, too. If your last name is Shithole or Fukme, you wouldn't want that on your cards. I think, in this case, going with your initials, or first name, or pretty much anything else, would sound better.

It also kind of distracts you from what the business does. I see "DikDrug" and I immediately assume they specialize in Viagra, Cialis, and Levitra "Here's a sample, why don't you see if it works? There's some magazines in the lobby bathroom."

Even more chilling (at least for a guy) is that DikDrug is an INFUSION pharmacy. This brings to mind painful images of Caverject and long needles being stuck in my winkie... I better cross my legs and end the post here.

Thank you, Karen!

Quote du jour

"I'm less aware of forgetting what I can't remember."

Squeeze

Last night I was watching a live CME presentation online. The discussion was about ways to measure stroke recovery by using a hand-grip dynamometer.

At one point the speaker said:


"The affected arm will be tested using a grip dynamometer for hand-jobs. Uh, I mean hand strength."


This led to a brief delay while the online panel composed themselves.

Reflections

Drug company advertising is, well, advertising. They're trying to get me to prescribe something.

I see drug ads all the time as I flip through journals. I ignore them. Most are meaningless collections of graphics, charts, and small print. But occasionally one will catch my eye.

A few years back Novartis ran a campaign for their Alzheimer's medication. Normally I'd have ignored it and turned the page, but the pictures were powerful and I stopped.

They've since moved on to more typical campaigns, but this one shouldn't be forgotten, so I'm going to share it here today.

Think of how you treat the elderly. Because someday it will be you on the other side of the mirror. Your newborns and toddlers and teenagers will be there someday, too. And the fragile old man/woman in front of you today was once you.

Overheard in the ER

Nurse: "I thought you were leaving AMA?"

Ms. Eword: "I am. You people here don't treat me right. I'm suffering, and in horrible pain, and you won't give me any Dilaudid. I'm never coming back to this dump."

Nurse: "So... why are you still here?"

Ms. Eword: "I want to finish my coffee."

Round & Round

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

Mrs. Feather: "I've been trying to reach you people all week. Why don't you return my calls?"

Annie: "It... looks like I've called you back 4 times. There was no answer, but I left messages each time."

Mrs. Feather: "I haven't gotten any of them. What number did you call?"

Annie: "The one you wrote on your info sheet, 867-5309."

Mrs. Feather: "That's my home number. I never answer that or check the messages. I only use that for outgoing calls."

Annie: "Well, it's the contact info you gave us. Is there a better number to reach you at?"

Mrs. Feather: "I use my cell phone for incoming calls. It's the only one I answer. It's the number my family tries to reach me on, but I don't give it out because I know you people sell phone numbers to telemarketers."

Annie: "No, ma'am, we don't sell or give out your personal information. So what's the cell phone number, so I can reach you next time?"

Mrs. Feather: "I'm not giving that out. It's only for family to reach me on, and no one else."

Annie: "Okay, but then how am I supposed to return your calls?"

Mrs. Feather: "You can call my home number."

Annie: "But you just told me you never answer that line."

Mrs. Feather: "Yes, but you can leave a message."

New Year's Day

Heading west

All right, we're heading to visit family on the west coast, and hopefully warmer weather, for the holidays. I'll be back in 2 weeks.

Whatever you celebrate, have a good one. If you don't celebrate anything, at least call your mother once in a while. She says it wouldn't kill you to pick up a phone. She's worried you aren't eating properly, and needs to tell you something about your cousin Max, Naomi's boy. You met him once at a birthday party in 1972, remember? He was the one with braces.

Weekend reruns

Dear Mrs. Nosybich,

Sorry about our little dispute at the school last week. Normally I don't take the kids in the morning, but Mrs. Grumpy had an early meeting that day.

It must be nice having a child that is naturally compliant with your orders. Frank, however, is not like your daughter, and will fight us to the death about wearing a jacket. Getting him to wear a sweatshirt over his clothes took an act of Congress and delicate negotiations. While it's not perfect, it was a halfway compromise.

So far he hasn't frozen to death or caught pneumonia/swine flu/AIDS/cooties/halitosis, or any of the other disorders that you seem to think are floating through the air specifically targeting unjacketed children.

But I'm glad you were concerned enough about someone else's kid to take time out of your busy day, walk over to me, and make a scene in front of all the other parents about how you've been watching the "horrible neglect" practiced by my wife and I. I appreciate you running down a list of communicable airborne illnesses that you got from Google, and closing your argument by threatening to report us to Child Protective Services if you ever see my kid without a jacket again.

I think it's great that you want to pay such close attention to the failings of us lesser parents. Reminded me of the Charlie Brown cartoon where Lucy took it upon herself to write New Year's resolution lists for everyone else.

I really like the way you punctuated your tirade by slamming your daughter's car door, HARD, to make sure we were all paying attention. We definitely all were (except your daughter, who looked too terrified to speak) because me, 3 teachers, and 20 other parents immediately began trying to tell you that you'd just slammed one of her backpack straps in the door. But you were clearly more concerned with my crappy parenting skills to notice.

Fortunately, your child had the presence of mind to let go of the other strap after she'd been pulled down and dragged about 3 feet as your drove away. And I have to admire the teacher who boldly leaped in front of your car to make you slammed on the brakes, at the risk of her own health.

Your kid will be okay, I swear. She has a small cut on one hand, and a tear in her jacket where it got dragged (maybe you should get her a new one).

I felt so awful about it too. You made me feel very guilty when, after you checked your kid and released the backpack strap from the car door, you turned to me and yelled, "Now look what you made me do!" before getting in your car and driving away.

Happy holidays.