Medication fun

Dr. Grumpy: "Are you still taking Ambien?"

Mr. Insomnia: "No, it stopped working, so my doctor switched me to Zolpidem, and that's much better."


(For my non-medical readers: Ambien and Zolpidem are the same medication)

I'm Living in "Airplane"

This morning I ordered a few bottles of Botox.

Miss Waytoohappy: "Okay, Dr. Grumpy, that's 4 bottles of Botox, and we'll get this shipped out today! Would you like a confirmation number?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Sure, what is it?"

Miss Waytoohappy: "It's a number we give you that allows you to reference this order if there are any problems or questions."

Strange things to find in the playroom, part 2

(for Part 1, click here)

Last night the boys borrowed Marie's Cinderella castle set, but told her they didn't need the dolls.

An hour later I wandered by and noticed this.

(click to enlarge)

Irrefutable logic

Dr. Grumpy: "You look kind of unsteady today."

Mr. Woodstock: "Yeah, I smoked a few joints out in my car before coming up here."

Dr. Grumpy: "Why did you do that?"

Mr. Woodstock: "I was really nervous about coming in today."

Dr. Grumpy: "Why were you nervous? You've been here before."

Mr. Woodstock: "Oh, not about that. I've been drinking scotch all morning, and didn't want you to notice I was drunk when I came in. I've never been drunk to a doctor visit before, so I smoked some weed to calm down, because I didn't want you to think I'd been drinking."

Do you enjoy wasting time?

Look, lady, I don't treat Glermfronger's disease*.

I've never treated it. I mean, I know some neurologists do, but most of us don't. It requires some additional training that I don't have.

In fact, when you called last week, both Annie and Mary told you I don't, and tried to give you some names of docs who do. You insisted on making the appointment with me anyway, saying you had "other neurological issues", too.

So, now that you're here, you tell me that you really don't have other issues, and you just made the appointment to discuss your Glermfronger's. And guess what? I still don't treat it. You coming into my office didn't magically give me the ability to treat it, like you apparently thought it would.

And handing me an insurance auth from your family doc saying "refer to neurology for Glermfronger's disease" doesn't miraculously make me treat it, either. So stop repeatedly showing it to me.

Oh, I get it, if it's on your insurance auth it MUST be true.

And now you tell me that there actually is a neurologist on your insurance who does treat it, but she's 5 miles from your house, and I'm only 3 miles. So you thought you'd lie to get in here, hoping to save some driving.

Well, you've now wasted a 1 hour slot for both of us, and your crappy insurance won't pay me for it, and someone else who needed to come in today is waiting for another day because of your selfishness and stupidity.

People like you make me wish I had a trap door under that chair.


*Not a real disease, but I'm using it for anonymity.

Attention Dr. Pissy!

Since I was on call this weekend, I appreciate you picking up the next week's soda supply for the office.

However, you have erroneously purchased Local Grocery Generic Brand CAFFEINE FREE Diet Soda.

You are never allowed to do the office shopping again. Ever. And I'm reporting you to your wife.

And if the staff uses up all the Provigil samples this week trying to function, it's your fault.

Dénouement

Aw, gee, they're towing Dr. Prik's car away.

What kind of asshole would have called security to report the expired placard?

That's a shame.

Sunday Morning, 4:05 a.m.

Bleary-eyed, I stumble into the doctor's lounge. I'm on call. I have a migraine, though the medication is starting to take effect. I'm sleep deprived. I forgot to grab a Diet Coke on the way out of the house. I need caffeine, calories, and fluids.

It's been picked clean. No bagels, bread, or muffins. Shelves empty. Refrigerator empty. Coffee machine broken and overflowing into the sink.

After a careful search I found:

3 packets of melba toast.

1 packet of fat-free, calorie-free, taste-free cream cheese.

And an 8 oz. can of caffeine-free diet RC cola that was lying between the refrigerator and the sink. It was covered with dust bunnies and warm from the fridge motor. The hospital hasn't carried RC in years.

This sucks.

On Call, Again. Live the Adventure

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

Mr. Cabbage: "Yeah, I see Dr. Nerve for my back problems, but for the last 2 hours I've had this heavy chest pain, too."

Dr. Grumpy: "Sir, you need to go to ER for that. NOW!"

Mr. Cabbage: "I don't want to. Can't you give me a pain pill or something?"

Dr. Grumpy: "NO! I'm a neurologist, sir. And chest pain is scary. You need to get it checked out ASAP. Do you have a cardiologist?"

Mr. Cabbage: "Yeah, but I already called him. He told me to go to ER, too."

Dr. Grumpy: "Then why are you calling me?"

Mr. Cabbage: "I hate going to ER, so I thought I'd call some of my other docs for ideas.

Dr. Grumpy: "You need to go to ER."

Mr. Cabbage: "My internist said that, too."

Dr. Grumpy: "Look. This could be serious. If you don't go, that's your business. But ER is the best advice I can give you."

Mr. Cabbage: "You're no help at all. I'll call some of my other docs. Thanks for wasting my time."

(click)

Things that make me grumpy

This morning I went to the hospital to round. As I was walking in, I ran into Dr. Prik, who'd parked in a handicapped space near the hospital entrance. He had a handicapped placard hanging from his rear view mirror.

He looked fine, but being a neurologist I know that many people who legitimately need handicapped spaces can look fine at first glance.

Dr. Grumpy: "You doing okay?"

Dr. Prik: "Yeah, fine. How about you?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Oh, I just saw the handicapped thing."

Dr. Prik: "Yeah. That was from when my wife broke her ankle a few years ago."

Dr. Grumpy: "I remember that."

Dr. Prik: "She's fine now. I just hold onto it. I hate having to walk too far to the building when I'm on call."


So, Dr. Prik, you hereby win the "Golden Asshole Physician Award" for your jackass sense of entitlement, and for your contributions to making the rest of us look like scum.

Also, you win the "Phailed Physically Phit" award for showing another reason as to why people are fat. Because YOU'D rather not burn a few extra calories, and at the same time ensure that someone who needs a decent space won't get one.

Mary's Desk, January 22, 2010

Mary: "Good morning, Dr. Grumpy's office. This is Mary."

Mr. Pancake: "Hi! This is Bill Pancake. I have an appointment with Dr. Grumpy this afternoon."

Mary: "Um, yes, at 2:15."

Mr. Pancake: "Well, I'm right across the street having breakfast, so I want to come in now."

Mary: "Let me see... I'm sorry, we're completely swamped this morning, and can't do that."

Mr. Pancake: "Well you're not very accomodating."

Mary: "I'm sorry, it's just very busy today. Normally we would."

Mr. Pancake: "That's rude! I'm already here! I don't want to have to go all the way back home."

Mary: "I thought you lived in the apartment building across the street, within walking distance?"

Mr. Pancake: "What does that have to do with it?"

Bwahahahahahaha!

The rivalry between doctorhood's medical and surgical branches goes back to Hippocrates, and has led to some friendly (and not-so-friendly) ribbing over time.


There's a surgeon upstairs in my building, who I've treated for migraines for a few years. Yesterday he had a severe headache, which was different from his usual ones. I was worried something bad had happened, so I admitted him to the hospital, and ordered a bunch of tests.

At around 9:00 last night I got paged by the radiologist with the MRI results.

Dr. Grumpy: "What have you got?"

Dr. Radar: "I'm looking at Dr. Surgeon's head MRI. It's very abnormal."

Dr. Grumpy: "Crap. What's up?"

Dr. Radar: "He has a large intracranial soft tissue mass, which is almost never seen in surgeons."


I was laughing so hard I had to get off the phone (the study was fine, folks).

More hairs fall out

Dr. Grumpy: "What can I do for you?"

Mr. Tremor: "My hands shake."

Dr. Grumpy: "How long has this been going on?"

Mr. Tremor: "Since they started shaking."

Skool Nerse Time

This is Mrs. Grumpy.

I'm sorry so many of you kids out there suffered injuries during the Martin Luther King holiday, and have required repeated trips to my office since then. I'm sure Reverend King would be flattered to know that you understand his life as "he was that guy who did something and then got killed."

Anyway, since your impression of MLK day (or Veteran's Day, or President's Day, or Columbus Day) is that it was created solely for you to spend it lying on the couch, eating Fruit Loops, and watching Nick, it's amazing to me how many of you suffered sprains. Apparently getting off the couch is trickier than it looks.

So I wanted to publish this guide for your future reference.

1. If you come to the school nurse about a serious injury of some sort to your writing hand or thumbs, DO NOT come in and write me out a detailed note on how you can't use your writing hand. Also, claiming you can't use your thumbs, and then texting your bff while sitting there, doesn't score points (And I get to confiscate your phone, since it's not supposed to be on during school).

2. If you come in more than once for a limb sprain, please try to remember where it was the first time you came in. Switching joints and limbs doesn't give you a lot of credibility. And asking "which one was hurting me last time?" is only going to get you sent back to class.

3. I know when the math quizzes are. Don't think I don't. Your teachers and I do talk.

4. Stop asking for ACE wraps (I know your parents want them). The school hasn't been able to afford them since 1995. Here is what I have: Band-aids and Kleenex. If you're looking for someone to make a miracle cast out of popsicle sticks, duct tape, and Jell-O you can either watch MacGyver or call a Boy Scout.

5. Walking around with a mouthful of hot chocolate to raise your temperature isn't going to get you anywhere. A temperature of > 110° F (43° C) is generally not compatible with life, let alone playing your Nintendo while I'm taking it.

Now get back to class.