Seen in a chart

Parenting

I'm at the dreaded Wednesday morning neurology meeting at the hospital. My colleague, Dr. Mom, is sitting next to me.

About halfway through the meeting her iPhone rang. She answered it, listened for a few seconds, then said:

“LOOK, Mr.-I-had-a-Bar-Mitzvah-so-now-I-am-a-man, I don’t care how well you did at your Bar Mitzvah, the fact that you forget your lunch at home - again - still makes you an irresponsible moron in my book and you can shut up and go hungry for the day to learn a lesson and if you call me about this again you’re not getting dinner either!”

Then she hung up.

We fist-bumped.

Pathetic

You know, it's REALLY PATHETIC that 40 years after this public service announcement first ran, we need it now more than we did then.

Get your kids vaccinated. Don't believe the bullshit out there.

Planning

School competitions always bring a bunch of paperwork, rules, and forms for parents to sign.

This year they included this:

Thank you, A!

Addendum

I'm with a patient when Mary interrupts me. Dr. Unka, a deranged cardiologist in my building, is on the phone. So I apologize to my patient and pick up the line.

Dr. Grumpy: "This is Dr. Grumpy."

Dr. Unka: "Hi, Ibee. You consulted on a hospital patient of mine this morning, Mr. Sah. He's the one who fell and hit his head at home yesterday, and now has a brain hemorrhage?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Yeah, he's in ICU. What's up?"

Dr. Unka: "Well, I was reading your note, and in your dictation it says he slipped on water that was on the floor. I just spoke to his wife, and she's very certain it was iced tea, because he'd just knocked a glass over and was going to get a towel to clean it up when he fell."

Dr. Grumpy: "Um..."

Dr. Unka: "Anyway, I thought it was important you should know, in case you want to amend your dictation."

Breaking News!

From around the globe, Dr. Grumpy's crack team of reporters bring you the stories that shape our world.


DATELINE: WINNIPEG

Diners waiting for burgers in the drive-thru of an A&W restaurant kept waiting, even after it became obvious the restaurant was burning down.

In a remarkable testament to human optimism, brand devotion, and hunger, patrons were, apparently, convinced their dinners would be ready soon. This is in spite of smoke pouring out of the place, employees fleeing the building, and approaching sirens. In fact, more people just kept pulling in. One can only assume they thought the column of smoke was coming from the grill.

It wasn't until a total of 8 firetrucks had arrived that the hungry customers realized they should consider other dining options and left.



DATELINE: CHINA

A man in Zhangzou was hospitalized with fungal pneumonia. The potentially serious disorder has been attributed to his habit of repeatedly smelling his own socks after wearing them all day. He apparently did this as a way to relax after work.

I think I'll stick with a beer.




DATELINE: FLORIDA

Mr. Onelio Hipolit-Gonzalez was arrested for running a bogus medical clinic.

He charged people $160 for an initial appointment, which consisted of them holding a metal rod that was connected to a beeping machine (Ah! the machine that goes "PING!"). Afterwards he'd tell them the machine showed various organ problems and that he could cure them for $2000.

His "cure" for diabetes apparently consisted of him drawing blood and then re-injecting it back into their body.

Mr. Hipolit-Gonzalez was reportedly "shocked" to learn his actions were illegal, and, as proof of his ability to practice medicine, stated he'd been a lab technician.





DATELINE: BRAZIL

Mr. Abdias Melo, who must be a VERY sound sleeper, remained in dreamland while friends super-glued a colorful assortment of dildos to his back.

They then woke him by banging pots together.

Attempts to remove the dildos at home failed, and Mr. Melo ended up going to ER. I suspect even the most hardened team of emergency staff was taken aback by this case.

Either that or he was mistaken for a stegosaurus.

A really sick horse

Dr. Grumpy: "Any illnesses in your family?"

Mr. Patient: "My mother has smoked a pack a day for 70 years and, except for her lung
cancer and heart failure, is healthy as a horse."

Confessions

You ever killed someone?

I have.

Of course, "kill" is too strong a word for what most doctors have done at some point, but still, he died because of my direct actions (a nurse and respiratory tech were involved, too).

He was a retired farmer, around 80. Strong and healthy for his age. I was in my early 30's, just out of residency and starting life as a newly-minted attending physician.

He'd fallen from a ladder and severed his upper cervical spinal cord. He was awake and alert, but completely paralyzed from the neck down. He couldn't breathe on his own, so was facing the rest of his life on a ventilator, requiring complete care for everything. There was no hope for recovery.

In the first days of the injury the trauma and neurosurgery people worked their magic, stabilizing what was left of his neck, converting him quickly from a ventilator tube to a tracheostomy for comfort, getting a feeding tube in.

As the days went by and we began decreasing his medications it became clear that he would live, was mentally intact, and could communicate with us.

In spite of what his family had told us, he wanted to be let go. He'd led a robust life and didn't want to spend the rest of it in this condition. He was ready to have things turned off so he could pass.

This sort of thing is (comparatively) easy in someone with advanced dementia, or severe brain trauma, or end-stage cancer. But in a guy who was fully awake and who'd been healthy and vigorous a few days earlier it was a whole different matter.

The family was unhappy, but acquiesced to him. To cover myself I had a psychiatrist interview him and ordered a consult from the hospital ethics committee. All agreed that he was pleasant, had a good sense of humor, and was fully capable of making this decision.

The family didn't want to be in the room when it happened, so we gave them all the time they needed to say goodbye.

When the time came we chatted briefly, and he thanked me and the team who'd taken care of him. He even asked that we shake his hand.

I had the nurse give him megadoses of morphine and Ativan, to put him to sleep and take away any pain that might still be there. Once he was out the respiratory tech disconnected him from the ventilator. Between the medications and his non-functioning diaphragm he went pretty quickly. I wrote a death note and moved on to another case. There are always more consults.

What would you call it? An execution? Physician-assisted suicide? Compassion? I'm sure some out there would love to have me tried for murder, but I don't care.

To me, my responsibility is to the patient. This man had lived a good life, wasn't suicidal in the sense of someone who's depressed, and made a rational decision about his own existence. I did everything I could to make sure there wasn't a good reason NOT to end his life, and did what I could to respect his wishes and relieve his suffering.

That was the first, though not last, time I've had to face this situation. We may become more experienced, but it never gets easier.

It's been 20 years, and I'd still say the same thing: In the end it wasn't my decision, it was his. I just did what was right for the patient.

Neurology humor

Two neurologists were walking along the street when they saw an old-timer veteran cop walking a beat with his legs wide apart. He was stiff-legged and walking slowly. One doctor said to his friend: "I'm sure that poor old cop has Peltry Syndrome. Those people walk just like that."

The other neurologist says: "No, I don't think so. The old cop surely has Boyd Syndrome. He walks slowly and his legs are apart, just as we learned in training."

Since they couldn't agree they decided to ask the cop. They approached him and one said, "We're neurologists and couldn't help but notice the way you walk, though we couldn't agree on the syndrome you might have. Could you tell us what it is?"

The old-timer said, "I'll tell you, but first you tell me what you two fine upstanding neurologists think." The first doctor said, "I think it's Peltry Syndrome." The old-timer said, "You thought - but you are wrong." The other neurologist said, "I think you have Boyd Syndrome." The old cop said, "You thought - but you are wrong."

So they asked him, "Well, old timer, what do you have?"

The old-timer cop said, "I thought it was just a fart- but I was wrong, too!"

- Thank you, Officer Cynical!

Friday morning, 12: 38 a.m.

This message, left on the on-call emergency voicemail, woke me up:


"Dr. Grumpy, you can cancel all my appointments. I'm very hurt. This is the 2nd year that your lousy practice hasn't sent me a birthday card, like my dentist does. I think you're an asshole. Goodbye!"

No kidding

Dr. Grumpy: "Are you allergic to any medications?"

Mrs. Ambu: "Succinylcholine"

Dr. Grumpy: "What happened when they gave you succinylcholine?"

Mrs. Ambu: "I stopped breathing."

Snow

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

Mr. Flurry: "Hi, I have an appointment later this morning, but am trapped at home by all the snow."

Mary: "I understand, we can certainly reschedule it for later this week, or next. What times of day work best for you?"

Mr. Flurry: "No, I'd really like to make this appointment. Isn't there some special doctor's line you can call or something, where they direct snow plows to my house and clear a route so I can get to the appointment?"

Mary: "No sir, there is no such phone number."

Mr. Flurry: "That's ridiculous. He's a doctor. Doesn't he know the governor, or mayor, or someone who can do that?"

Mary: "No."

Mr. Flurry: "This is stupid. I thought he was a good doctor, but obviously my appointments there have been a waste of time."

Grammar

Seen in a veterinary orthopedic course brochure:

 

Thank you, Webhill!

Bagels

I recently was at a hospital staff meeting where one of the administrative clowns got up to speak. He was trying to show us how grateful the hospital is to have all of us, and mentioned that the food in the doctor's lounge costs the hospital $350,000 a year, so we should be thankful.

I know this sort of thing varies between hospitals, but here's what mine supplies to doctors for that $350K:


Morning: bagels and donuts. Boxes of cereal and instant oatmeal. Granola bars. Little milk cartons in the fridge.

Lunch: Tray of deli meats and cheeses in the fridge. Irritatingly small cans of soda. A tray of cookies.

Dinner: Not supplied. Whatever is left over from breakfast and lunch.

Always available: coffee, tea, sliced bread, English muffins, little packets of peanut butter, jelly, butter, and honey.


So, I guess that's what $350,000 a year gets you. I'm sure you also have to figure in there the salary of the person who restocks & cleans it each day, frequent repairs to the heavily-used coffee machine, and a few other items. Plus, they probably fudge in how much money they're losing by not giving us the finger and turning the lounge into another endoscopy suite.


That's not a huge sum of money in the modern healthcare world, but since hearing that figure, I keep wondering how it might be better spent. Maybe a few more nurses in the rotation. Or respiratory techs. Or physical therapists.

I'm sure some doctors would whine, but realistically I think most would be happy with coffee and a bagel in the morning, since that's when most round, and the hospitalists buy their own stuff for lunch anyway.

There are certainly bigger wastes of money in modern healthcare: CEO bonuses (at my hospital his was around $7 million last year) and paying Press-Gainey to do surveys, to name two of them. And the people involved in those things don't care about patients, anyway (regardless of what their PR staff tell you).

But I do care about patients, and would be more than happy to give up a deli tray, cookies, or even a bagel, to improve their care.

That's provided the money actually went to that use. Realistically, it would probably just go to some administrator's year-end bonus for the money he saved by cutting coffee and bagels out of the doctors lounge.