Skool Nerse Time

Another exciting school year will be starting soon, and somehow I got sucked into becoming a band booster. This thrilling job involves me handling questions from other parents about band, upcoming band camp, musical instrument rentals, over-the-counter medications, do you know a good plumber, next week's weather forecast, and why are you calling me because the judge said it's my ex who has to pay for this stuff.

In a week of calls, this one was my favorite:


My iPhone rings.

Nurse Grumpy: "Hello, this is band booster Grumpy."

Mrs. Clueless: "I just found out my daughter, Marsha, has to bring her musical instrument to band camp?"

Nurse Grumpy: "Uh, that's correct."

Mrs. Clueless: "Why didn't anyone tell me this? You need to make these things clear!"

Nurse Grumpy: "Well, it is band camp."

Mrs. Clueless: "On that whole list of things to bring to camp, no where did it say 'musical instrument.' "

Nurse Grumpy: "She does need to bring it."

Mrs. Clueless: "What kind of instrument should she bring, anyway?"

Nurse Grumpy: "Um, whatever she plays. What does she play?"

Mrs. Clueless: "YOU'RE THE BAND BOOSTER! Isn't it your job to know that?"

Nurse Grumpy: "Okay... so you don't know what Marsha plays?"

Mrs. Clueless: "It's something she blows in. Where can I get one of those?"

Nurse Grumpy: "That covers a lot... What does it look like?"

Mrs. Clueless: "I don't know. It makes a lot of noise, so she has to practice with her door closed. I've never seen it. Can I rent one?"

Nurse Grumpy: "You don't have one?"

Mrs. Clueless: "Well, she has the screechy thing in her room. You mean I have get another one for her to take to band camp?"

Nurse Grumpy: "No. She can take the one she already has."

Mrs. Clueless: "Doesn't make that clear, either. This info sheet is useless."

Nurse Grumpy: "Just have her bring the instrument, whatever it is, that she has at home, to band camp."

Mrs. Clueless: "You people are really disorganized and unhelpful."

Fone Fun

The home phone rings.


Dr. Grumpy: “Hello?”

Accent Guy: “Hello, I am calling from Bank of Grumpyville technical support, and I need some information about…”

Dr. Grumpy: “I didn’t call technical support.”

Accent Guy: “Well, I am returning a call about a trouble ticket. I need your BofG…”

Dr. Grumpy: “Nurse Grumpy, did you call BofG technical support?”

Nurse Grumpy: “No.”

Dr. Grumpy: “Sorry, you must have a wrong number.”

Accent Guy: “Well, what we do is Windows technical support, so I guess there’s an issue with your Windows log-in for BofG. Can I have your computer…”

Dr. Grumpy: “No one here uses Windows.”

Accent Guy: “I’m sorry, did I say Windows? I meant it’s a Mac issue and I need your…”

 
As much as I felt like stringing him on for fun, I hung up.

Seen in a chart

"Are you shitting me?"

Thank you, ERM!

Another fun weekend

With all respect to Bob Seger.


On the long and lonesome highway
To the hospital
You can listen to your iPhone
Ringing with another call
You think about the differential
Of the case you saw the night before

But your thoughts will soon be wandering
The way they always do
When you've been awake for 27 hours
With consults still left to do
And you're sick of swilling coffee
You just wish the call was through

Here I am
Out on call again
There I am
On a rounding rampage
Here I go
Playin' doc again
There I go
Return the page

When you walk into the doctor's lounge
Strung out from Diet Coke
And the only food that's left in there
Is just a friggin' joke
So you take a half-eaten, stale, bagel
And try hard not to choke

They call to check the orders
"Hi, doctor this is Jan
In your note on Mr. Stroke
Did you want an MRI or CT scan?"
And at 2:00 a.m. you're there
Eating popcorn from a bedpan

Here I am
Out on call again
There I am
On a rounding rampage
Here I go
Playin' doc again
There I go
Return the page

Racing through the ER
The CT is 2 more halls away
And you've only got an hour left
To start the tPA
As the sweat pours out your body
"Please don't hemorrhage," you pray.

Later in the evening
As you lie awake in bed
With your cell phone like a live grenade
Lyin' near your head
You take another ER call
About a guy whose brain has bled

Here I am
Out on call again
There I am
Trapped in its cage
Here I go
Playin' doc again
There I go
Return the page.

Seen in a chart

Ashes to ashes, funk to funky

This summer we visited my in-laws, and one night they had a potluck in our honor.

Unfortunately, great aunt Frieda left a casserole at home, so I got volunteered to drive her down the block to get it. Craig came, too, as he was trying to avoid his cousins.

We walked into this small musty-smelling condo and were standing there while she rummaged in her fridge. Craig, trying to make conversation, asked “do you have any pets?”

Great aunt Frieda: “Yes, I have a cat, Marty.”

Craig: “Where is he?”

Great aunt Frieda: “Over there.”

And she pointed to a shelf above the stove. With a ceramic urn that said “Marty."

Theft

Mr. Ford came in for memory loss.

He drove himself to the first appointment with a friend's car, because his was in the shop. After the appointment he didn't remember that he had someone elses car, and walked all over the parking lot looking for his. He finally gave up, assumed his car had been stolen, and came back to my building for help.

He went to the cardiologist down the hall and told the receptionist his story. She called the police to report a stolen car. After interviewing Mr. Ford, the officer had him call a friend to come get him, but the one he called couldn't do so because Mr. Ford had his car, and couldn't make Mr. Ford understand that.

So the friend came in a cab to get my patient (who'd by now wandered back to my office). As they walked out to the friend's car, Mr. Ford said, "You know, I saw your car out there when I was looking for mine. I didn't know you had a doctor's appointment today, too.”

On Wednesday he called Mary to cancel an appointment for that day (which he didn’t have). He said he couldn’t come in because someone had stolen his car while he was at the doctor's 2 days ago. He later called in to see if he could get the appointment back, because the car had been “found” at a local repair shop (whose owner couldn’t figure out why it hadn’t been picked up for 5 days).

For the next 2 weeks we continued to get calls from Mr. Ford, asking if he could make an appointment now that he had his car back. He was politely reassured each time that he’d already been here.

I called and discussed things with his adult son, who took the car away while I notified the state about revoking his license. This only led to further (continuing to date) calls that someone has stolen his car. The local police aren't happy about this, either, and are now telling him to call me when he calls about the stolen car.

I can't say I blame them, either.

Random pictures

Okay, time to hit the mail bag for stuff you guys have sent in:


First is this book:

Mike writes in:

1. Is the guy at the top whacking off?

2. Isn't this sort-of racist?



Then we have this unusually comfortable looking external hard drive:

Another bad day for the photo-caption editor:

The name does not inspire confidence in this place's cleanliness:

This sign at Home Depot, which makes it sound like they're afraid of psychiatrists:

This car:

Jay says this sign is outside the orthopedic ward at her hospital:

"It's a total joint center, dude... totally."

Hospital rounds

Dr. Grumpy: "How are you doing?"

Ms. Dyspnea: "I don't like this oxygen mask. It hurts."

Dr. Grumpy: "Well, you need it to breathe. The other only other option would be to intubate you and have a machine do the breathing."

Ms. Dyspnea: "That's what the idiot nurse told me!"

Dr. Grumpy: "It's the truth. You need oxygen to keep going."

Ms. Dyspnea: "Bullshit. I asked the nurse if I could just get the oxygen in my IV, and she said she couldn't do that. We all know she could just take off this stupid mask and plug it into my IV instead."

1:47 a.m.

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

Ms. Phone: "Hi, this is Cindy Dingdong."

Dr. Grumpy: "Are you one of my patients?"

Ms. Phone: "No, I found your name on Google. I just moved here and have a sore throat. Can you call in some antibiotics?"

Winning bid

Dr. Grumpy: "How's the diet going?"

Mrs. Atkins: "It's on hold. I ordered that diet book you suggested, but the person I bought it from on eBay screwed up."

Dr. Grumpy: "What happened?"

Mrs. Atkins: "They sent me this instead. I'm actually going to the post office to mail it back later."


She reached into her bag, took out a book, and held it up. It was called "Working with a Transsexual: A Guide for Coworkers."


Dr. Grumpy: "That's definitely not the diet book I recommended."

Mrs. Atkins: "No. And you just know someone out there was hoping to get this book to help them at work, and is instead staring at my diet book."

Sunday night check-out

Dr. Grumpy: "In room 734 is a guy with arm weakness since a shoulder injury. I've ordered an MRI of his brachial plexus."

Dr. Nerve: "Where do you think the problem is?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Uh, in the brachial plexus."

Dr. Nerve: "You should have made that clear."

When dogs fly

Me: "What kind of dog is she?"

Mrs. Owner: "She's a Morkie. It's a cross between a Yorkie and a, um, Maltese Falcon."

Follies

I saw a guy for headaches recently. Nothing unusual in his story, but, since he'd never had them before, I ordered a brain MRI. I figured, like most of them do, it would come back normal.

I wasn't even close. It came back, not just abnormal, but weird. All kinds of odd changes. Nothing easy to point a finger at, like a stroke or brain tumor. But definitely not normal.

Like I always do in these cases, I called the neuroradiologist who read it, and discussed the case. He was pretty certain of the strange findings. We reviewed all the different causes, and none of them fit with his history.

Because of the unusual nature of the findings, I got a copy of the MRI and took it to another neuroradiologist for a 2nd opinion. She absolutely agreed with the first guy.

So, I was stuck with something weird, not easily explainable for his case. After hospital rounds the next night I went to the hospital library, and spent some time looking up the findings, what can cause them, how you work them up, etc. I had Mary bring him in, working him in over lunch to give me extra time to discuss the news with him and answer his questions.

He came in, and I took some time. I explained the findings, and what they might mean. I went over the steps to work them up further, including a spinal tap and labs. He and his wife sat in silence as I went over everything. Finally, I opened up the floor for questions.

Mr. Sternberg: "These abnormal findings, could they be caused by lymphoma?"

Dr. Grumpy: "You have lymphoma?"

Mr. Sternberg: "Had. About 10 years ago."

Dr. Grumpy: "How did they treat it?"

Mr. Sternberg: "I had chemotherapy, and they did radiation treatment on my whole body and head."

(Pause. I pick up the phone and call the neuroradiologist, who says that, yes, absolutely, the changes are typical for someone who's had radiation).

Dr. Grumpy: "Yes, they're likely from radiation. Why didn't you tell me you had lymphoma?"

Mr. Sternberg: "I didn't think it was important. By the way, my headaches are gone."

Today's lesson people: When the neurologist asks about your past medical history, lymphoma and brain radiation are things you want to mention.