Doctor Grumpy in the House

I'd like to personally thank the reader who was kind enough to come by today to bring me a bottle of Diet Coke with a packet of Sweet-N-Low.

Forgive me for not mixing them together in front of you...

This letter from a patient was on my fax machine this morning:

"Dear Dr. Grumpy,

"Since my injury I haven't been able to go hunting, which used to be one of my favorite things. I found out that the state has a program for disabled deer hunting. Could you please complete the attached forms to let me participate in this?"

I hope this is simply a misplaced adjective, and not some bizarre new state program.

I've had my current office number since 2000.

I have no idea who had it before. But apparently she was quite active in doing monthly breast exams. So much so that she subscribed to a phone service (run by a local celebrity) to remind her.

So, for the last 9 years, on the 5th day of each month, at 8:00 p.m. sharp (who picked that time?) when the office line is rolled over to my cell phone, I always get this recorded message: "Hi! This is Pamela Perky! Calling to remind you that it's time to do your monthly breast check! And call a buddy, and remind her to do it, too!"

I once called the service. They refused to take me off the list, since I didn't know the name of the original subscriber.

Miss Nutbag: (panicked on the phone) "I was in the ER yesterday, and they gave me Newpill! I think it's interacting with my Fukitol because I feel weird!"

I frantically check Epocrates and do a literature search from my desk.

Dr. Grumpy: "Hmmm. Should be okay together, I'm not finding any reported interactions between Newpill and Fukitol."

Miss Nutbag: "Oh no! What's wrong with me then?!!! Then why do I feel weird?!!!"

My inner voice: BECAUSE YOU ARE WEIRD! YOU'RE A FREAKING WHACKJOB! OKAY?

Dr. Grumpy: "Not sure, but it doesn't appear to be these medications. Why don't you call Dr. Anna, your psychiatrist?"

Apparently Happy Hospitalist was offended by my MasterCard post, and felt the need to tell his readers that I've "failed incredibly" by feeling the way I do.

When I wrote that post I figured someone would be offended by it. Just didn't know it would be you, Happy.

At the hospital this morning I saw a guy who was admitted for a seizure. He'd bitten his tongue and wet himself.

The admitting internist wrote this note:

"The patient states he was incontinent. To personally verify this, I checked his underwear. It was wet, and smelled of urine."

I have to tell you guys. In 11 years of doing this, I have never been that thorough. If someone tells me they wet or pooped themselves, I take their word for it.

Mrs. Grumpy sent me to Local Grocery for ice cream, tomatoes, and other stuff.

The guy in front of me in line had Tardive Dyskinesia and kept leaning over my cart to see what I was buying and DROOLED ON THE TOMATOES! THEN THE ICE CREAM! THEN THE OTHER STUFF!

I understand you can't control Tardive Dyskinesia, sir. I do this for a living. But you don't need to repeatedly drool on my groceries.

Glancing through a pile of old journals, articles, magazines, etc. while sitting outside watching the kids play.

Found this great article.

So now, just so you know, marijuana CAN impact your thinking process. In case you hadn't figured that out already.

(click to enlarge)

(I'm sure someone will be offended by this post and send me hate mail. So if you're easily offended, or have your head up your butt about how doctors are supposed to be perfect, just click out now).


Four years of undergrad at State University: $20,000

Four years of medical school: $60,000

Getting to pronounce brain dead from a heroin overdose the bully who beat you up and humiliated you almost every day throughout 8 years of grade school: Priceless.

Mrs. Hedayk: "When I get a migraine, it lasts for 2 weeks straight".

Dr. Grumpy: "How often do you get these 2-week-long headaches?"

Mrs. Hedayk: "At least every other day."

We decided to get passports, in case we go on a cruise next Summer. They're now required, so we figured we ought to get them now rather then wait till the last minute.

My last passport is long gone. I got it in the early 80's, when I was 15, for the generic American-Family-Goes-to-Europe trip. I have no idea where it is. It may be buried in a box at my parents' house. Or in my closet. Or lost/tossed in one of my countless moves between college, medical school, residency, marriage, etc. It had a hideous photo of me with early 80's shoulder-length hair, thick plastic rim glasses, braces, and zits.

So we made an appointment to do this over at our local post office yesterday. The girl is typing in our social security numbers. When she gets to mine she stops, and stares at the computer screen.

Ms. Postal: "Mr. Grumpy, are you aware there's already a passport in existence for this number?"

To be honest, I'd forgotten about it until she said that.

Dr. Grumpy: "Oh, yeah, that was from the early 80's. I'm sure it's long expired."

Ms. Postal: "May I have it please?"

Dr. Grumpy: "I don't have it. I have no idea where it is."

Ms. Postal: "WHAT! DO YOU REALIZE HOW IRRESPONSIBLE THAT IS?!!!"

Dr. Grumpy: "Uh, no, I mean, I'm sorry..."

Ms. Postal: "There could be a TERRORIST out there somewhere right now! Using your name, picture, and passport!"

(If Al-Queda has operatives out there who look like I did in the early 80's, I sort of feel bad for them).

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm really sorry, I didn't know I needed it."

Ms. Postal: "WELL! I guess I'll just have to mark the box here for previous passport lost. And let's hope that's ALL that's happened to it."

Dr. Grumpy: "Thank you. I'm sorry."

Ms. Postal: "Let's just try to be more careful with your new passport, shall we?"


I had no idea I was such a threat to national security.

This invitation to an upcoming drug company dinner talk was forwarded to me today.

Generally you don't see this combination of topics.

I'm covering for Dr. Outoftown the next 2 weeks.

So her office manager sent over a fax today that says "Patient Jan Junkie may call you for pain meds. DO NOT give her ANY Tylenol" (Paracetamol for my UK readers).

This was somewhat confusing, because she didn't clarify Tylenol with Codeine, or what. So I called the office to clear this up.

Dr. Grumpy: "Did Dr. Outoftown mean Tylenol with Codeine, or all pain meds, or what?"

Ms. Manager: "Just plain Tylenol. She doesn't get any narcotics."

Dr. Grumpy: "She can buy plain Tylenol at the store."

Ms. Manager: "I know. So don't give her any. She's not supposed to be taking it."

Dr. Grumpy: "But she can get it without me."

Ms. Manager: "Well, Dr. Outoftown says you shouldn't give her any if she calls."

Dr. Grumpy: "Don't worry."


Whatever.

I told the girls that if she shows up here, and asks us to give her Tylenol, we will NOT share any from the bottle back in the break room.

(What's a Dragonism?)

Catching up on dictations this morning.

What I wanted to say: "He's accompanied by his girlfriend, who's brought his past MRI reports."

What happened: "He's accompanied by his girlfriend, who's... (cell phone rings, I answer "Hello, Really? WHAT!?")

And the computer typed: "He's accompanied by his girlfriend, who's really hot!"