The Switch to New Blogger

I finally made the switch. Everything seems to be okay. Except certain commenters' names were replaced with "Anonymous". Sorry Seaspray. Seaspray wrote the funny comment on my Throckmorton post and has now become famous in TrenchDoc's comment section. hee hee.

Bat Shit Crazy and a Positive Throckmorton Sign

I wish this post could live up to its title.

I have no medical background, nor an aptitude for science. So it should not come as a complete surprise that after wandering through the medblogs for about six months now, I am still pretty much clueless. I probably still skip over more than I actually read. Nevertheless, I have picked up a few things over the past six months:
1. Batshit crazy. I love this expression and have incorporated it into my everyday vocabulary. I just wish I could use it when I am drafting a pleading to file with the Court:

The Plaintiff is batshit crazy. See Affidavit of Dr. Scrubs attached hereto as Exhibit “A”. For this reason, Defendant requests that the Court grant its Motion to Dismiss.

2. I am getting better at reading x-rays. Okay, let’s just say I can now tell when fingers have been blown off and I am starting to locate the bullets and knives a little quicker. I can also recognize a positive Throckmorton sign. Who knew those things showed up so well on an x-ray? My favorite post on the subject is on MDOD. Even a clueless layperson like me can appreciate that x-ray.

3. Along that same vein, I have also learned some medical slang and acronyms.

I started using these at work, thus making them legal terms:

BMW - Bitch Moan & Whine

DMFNFL - Dumb motherfucker, not fit to live

Goat Rodeo - Emergency scene which goes badly (resembles a bunch of people riding or wrestling goats) [occurs at least twice a day in our offices]

SWAG - Scientific Wild Ass Guess.


This is the reason I will never tell an ER doctor what I do for a living:

Chandelier's Sign - The result of any test or probing after which the patient must be removed from the chandelier.


I just like these because they are funny:

FDSTW - Found Dead Stayed That Way

OB/GYN - Oh Boy! Got You Naked!

Blade - Surgeon: dashing, bold, arrogant and often wrong, but never in doubt

RPVU - Relative Porsche Value Unit: surgical index of potential income from the repair of patient injuries, usually orthopedic in nature. Fractured finger = a windscreen wiper; a fractured hip = new tires, etc.

TTFO - Told To Fuck Off or, when being deposed, "Told to Take Fluids Only".


You medical people are so funny.

A Six Word Story

I’ve been tagged by Difficult Patient. I have to tell a story. In six words or less. I spent part of my afternoon reading other people's short stories. They were great and DP was especially clever in writing hers. I won't even attempt cleverness. I’ve been sitting on this secret for weeks. Here’s my story:

Medblog lurking afterhours. Steamy. Who knew?

Color Me Green

I am jealous of the Bohemian Road Nurse. And it’s not just because she has a message goat, or that she’s a nurse, or that she knows how to knit. It’s because she can write a good comment. Every medblog I go to, she’s been there already, leaving behind a witty retort, an insightful question, or a practical tip. She’s even been kind enough to leave a comment or two on my little blog.

One of my “work” projects is to read Bohemian’s archives. And I want to leave her a nice, witty comment. So I was just reading one of her posts (oh yeah, I’m also jealous because she’s such an entertaining writer). The post had pictures (yep, jealous), including a picture of drinks from Sonic. So when it came time for me to leave a comment, what was the only thing on my mind?---how much I wanted to go to the Sonic and get me a Cherry Slush. What kind of comment is that? So, I didn't leave a comment. But I will next time. A real good one.

If I find out Bohemian has good hair, too, there is gonna be a catfight. Just kidding. Bohemian-Lou used to be a biker chick. She could kick my ass with one hand tied behind her back.

Addendum: I think maybe a little clarification is needed. This post is supposed to be an expression of my admiration for Bohemian's writing abilities and my frustration at not being able to think of a damn thing to say after reading a great blog. I hope it is taken that way.

Another Day at the Office

The writer’s block continues. Dr. Dino has suggested I let the obnoxious lawyer bitch girl out to play on my blog. I love how that sounds. I am going to write about medblogs tomorrow. But today, here’s a glimpse into my glamorous, exciting work life:

This morning, Bookkeeper comes into work with a little sniffle and a tiny cough...

Partner: Oh BK, you’re sick. You are such a dedicated worker. But you should go home and take care of yourself. Be sure to call us if you need anything.


I drag my ass into work, nose red and running; a deep wet cough...


Partner: You’re late. Where’s that memo (legal research) I asked you for?

Me: Sorry. I took some cold medicine and overslept.

Partner: If you’re sick, stay in your office and keep the door closed.
AND TRY NOT TO BREATHE ON ANYONE.


I don’t know if it will work, but I plan on licking every piece of paper I hand to him today.

Warning: Boring Work Related Post

We have a client who owns a business in a very litigious industry. He has more money than he knows what to do with and isn't afraid to back down from a fight when threatened with legal action. He's also a sexist asshole. And a good buddy of Senior Partner. I try to avoid Mr. Client, but he likes me to work on his cases because I “really know how to write a classy ‘fuck you’ letter”. Before you start thinking conceited, braggart, etc., hear me out. Mr. Client doesn’t attribute these letters to my skills as a lawyer. He thinks I excel at writing these letters because I am a woman, you know, vindictive, mean, spiteful, vengeful, malicious. And he’s not joking when he says it, which is every time he comes into the office.

So, here’s a letter I drafted after you left my office today Mr. C.


Dear Mr. Client:

Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

Sincerely,

M. B. Addict



How’s that for classy?

[hmmm...maybe he was right]



Happy Birthday Elvis

(Yes, this is my original post. It's my blog and I can change my mind if I want to. After all, that's what women do, right?)

Wandering Through the Medblog Comment Sections

I don’t know if anyone else does this, but I read all of the comments on all of the medblogs. Even if a particular post is way over my clueless layperson head, I will still check out the comment section. And I will keep going back to read all of the new comments.

I am having a serious case of writer's block (or is it called blogger's block?). Someone said to just "write through it". Easier said than done. Because I can't think of anything original to write, I thought I would just share some of my favorite comments with you.

The first three come from my favorite surgeon (thank you Dr. Schwab).

1. "When a med student, a classmate of mine was on OB, went to the ER to do a “consult.” (yeah, right: blunder around until the resident arrived.) After doing the pelvic, still wedged in, as it were, he decided it was time to remove his wedding ring from where he’d tied it into his scrubs. (What else is there to do, really?) As he was absently untying his pants, he happened to look up at the lady who, horrified, was trying to scoot out of the stirrups and scuttle away. Bad call." (this one made Diet Coke come out of my nose when I read it)

2. "I realize it's not exactly the gist of your post, but this puts me in mind of a (hopefully true) story one of my fellow military docs told me (for only in the military might you conceivably try such a thing).

In doing prostate exams, the story goes, this doc would have the patient lean forward onto the exam table, and insert his finger while standing. For certain selected patients, he'd have a medic hidden behind a screen. He'd place his left hand on the patient's left shoulder, insert his right index finger in the anus, and then the medic, who'd have slipped quietly into the room, would place HIS right hand on the patient's right shoulder...."

3. Dr. Schwab’s thoughts on the spray on condom—
"I'd read about the spray-on, too. Tried to imagine the process, who'd be in charge, whether the act would be, uh, deflating in any way and if so, how, uh, forgiving would the substance be during reinvigoration."

4. A comment made by Dr. Dork after reading one of Dr. Schwab’s comments re: brb per rectum — "Damn surgeons and their rectums..."

(I am very glad Dr. Dork is back. And I'm also rather impressed with myself that I knew what brb was without having to look it up.)

5. I can’t remember where I read this, but it made me giggle. Butt pus. Heh.

"I too am a medical student and while talking to the head trauma surgeon, he somehow got on the subject of butt pus and I endured about 20 minutes of the most vividly colored stories I had ever heard. I'm glad that other people are basking in the glory of butt pus."

I liked that one so much, I almost named this post "Basking in the Glory of Butt Pus".

Just Out of Curiosity

Suppose someone gets a knife planted in his neck. If the knife punctured his lung and large airways, how long was the blade of the knife? I don’t know which part of the neck was stabbed. Being a layperson, I don’t even know, technically, where the neck begins and ends. But just assume the knife entered the neck at the place most convenient to hit a lung and large airways.

I’m back to lurking and I had to write this question down somewhere, so it landed here on my blog. No one should feel obligated to answer. But it would be nice to know whether it was a long knife, short knife, impossible to determine from the facts. . .

Are Surgeons Really Better Looking Than Other Doctors?

“Male surgeons are taller and more handsome than male physicians, according to a study in this week's (traditionally lighthearted) Christmas issue of the British Medical Journal.

Doctors at the University of Barcelona Hospital in Spain noticed that the tallest and most handsome male medical students were more likely to become surgeons, and that the shortest (and perhaps not so good looking) ones were more likely to become physicians.

Observers used the "good looking score" to classify each participant (ranging from 1, ugly to 7, very good looking). The results show that, on average, senior male surgeons are significantly taller and better looking than senior male physicians.”

See BMJ-British Medical Journal, Dec 2006; 333: 1291 – 1293.

I’ve already admitted I’m the researching type, so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that when I saw this article, I immediately decided this was an important issue that needed further investigation. Are surgeons more good looking than other doctors?

I have really only known four doctors: my family doctor, my gyno, my former family doctor, and my eye doctor. In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that, despite going to him for years, I’ve never actually seen Dr. Gyno. During my visits with him, 80% of the visit is spent with my eyes tightly squeezed shut, and the other 20% of the visit is spent with me looking awkwardly down at my hands while mumbling unintelligible answers to his questions. But I’m still going to include him in my study.

I definitely needed more data, i.e. I needed to check out more doctors. As much as I would have liked to have done this in person, I just couldn’t see myself hanging around a hospital oogling men. Even for an important research project such as this one. Who am I kidding? Of course I could see myself doing that, and enjoying it immensely. Nevertheless, I just went to the website of a local hospital that provides photos of their doctors. (I only know about this because I was researching BF’s orthopedic surgeon for him.)

I saw the website as a kind of online sales catalogue listing each doctor’s specialty, medical school, and special interests: “Hi, my name is Dr. Jekyll. I am a general surgeon. I attended UTMB-Galveston. I enjoy Hernias, Gallbladders, and long walks along the beach” (ok, I added that last one). I noted that in some of the pictures, the doctors had placed their left hand on their chin, conveniently displaying their ring finger. Nice to know because I immediately deducted points for being married.

I clicked on five specialties, and started picking names at random. Three of the secretaries at work also acted as judges. I swear, I am not making this up, one surgeon’s picture looked like a DWI mugshot. The cutest guy we saw was an ENT doctor.  Therefore, I’m not sure I can agree with the BMJ’s findings.

I think that if someone did a study like this in the medblog world, where doctors are read and not seen, you’d find ER doctors, not surgeons, at the top of the survey. They just seem like the bad boys of medicine. And I don’t need a survey to tell me that good girls are drawn to bad boys, or, in this case, their blogs.  Happy Holidays.

Blogger Etiquette

I really do need to get a book on Blogger etiquette. I've been accused of being crass in the comment section of someone's blog. I know I've been vulgar and obnoxious, but I didn't know I was being crass. Geez, I knew I should have stuck to lurking. My apologies. It won't happen again.

No mystery, sugar, it's called Technorati

From a comment by Dr. Flea in the Addicted to Medblogs Comments Section. November 15, 2006.

Thus began my education regarding “links”. Dr. Flea taught me that the people you link to have a way of finding out about your link. Gutless lurkers like me don't like that.

It has been gently suggested that I include links to the blogs that I write about. Some people want me to stop having blind items on my blog. I also received a hilarious, but filthy, now-deleted comment from someone ("Anonymous", my ass. I know who you are) telling me to start linking and stop having blind items.

After receiving some superior tutelage regarding links (who knew that little button on Blogger that said “insert link” was for linking other people’s posts?), I have no excuse for not including links on my blog.

Does that mean that I will always link to a post that I am writing about? No.

Being the gutless wonder that I am, I can’t. I won’t.

If I don’t link a post, it’s because

a. I don’t want the blogger to come to my blog, although I’m probably leaving a trail in some obvious way known to everyone but me. I’m gutless, so sue me.

b. I don’t want you to go to the blog I am referring to. There are some obscure blogs out there. I have never seen the bloggers’ names in the comment section of other blogs. There are few or no comments on their blogs. These are the juiciest blogs. I am afraid if they know I am reading, they will stop being so open. Ok, so I am gutless and selfish.

c. I find the blog “suspect”. There are a few out there that I think might be fakes. Written by someone with a medical background, but not a doctor. Yet. Or, I could just be full of crap. But in my defense, I spend a lot of time at work reading and responding to crap. I don’t analyze blogs the same way I analyze work related writings, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get that same feeling in my gut when I read a load of crap in a blog. (And Fake? General Surgeon, I hope that you stopped writing because of an increased surgical workload and not because I questioned your doctorhood.)

So, I will link to posts that I think will be of interest to someone (and whose author’s don’t scare me). And I won’t leave any more blind items.

And, please, if I write about a blog, I am not endorsing its content. What do I know? I’m just a lawyer.

Last blind item ever: You are still my favorite blogger and one of your posts last week and your post today made me an even bigger fan, if that is possible.

Update: Sometimes I don't link just because I'm lazy.

Weird: My First and Last Response to A Meme

I used to see these things on blogs called memes and think to myself, boy, I am glad I am a lurker and don’t have to participate in those things. But now I have been tagged by Frectis. According to the rules: Each player of this game starts with the “6 Weird Things About You”. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state the rule clearly. After you’re done, tag six people by listing them on your blog and leaving a note in their comments section.

Let me start by saying this. I set this blog up in July but didn’t get the courage to write anything until October. Right now, I delete half of what I post and, in the remaining posts, I am usually apologizing about something I just wrote. I'm not sure I can reveal six weird things about myself on this blog. But I don’t want to offend my new blogger friend Frectis, so I am going to try.

1. I think the fact that I have this blog is a little weird. I am fascinated by your jobs as healthcare professionals. I want to know what your job is; what it entails, how you learned to do it; why you do it; whether you like it. I want to know about your relationships with your co-workers; how your job affects your personal life, etc. And let me just take this opportunity now to thank you for letting me, a clueless layperson, have a glimpse into your world.

2. I can’t keep an ATM card. Tonight I just activated my 4th card this year. The first card was left in the bank’s ATM machine (grabbed the cash, left the card). The second card was in my purse that got stolen. (Free advice, always take your purse with you. Do not try to hide your purse by stuffing it under the seat, even if it is broad daylight, you are parked in front of a ritzy dress shop in the rich neighborhood, and you’re only going to be in there a few minutes.) Third card, don’t know where it is.

3. My nails (fingers and toes) must be perfectly manicured at all times. I hate it when they don't look nice. I never wear nail polish on my fingernails; they are always buffed. Toenails are always a shade of red; never any other color. And since I never mastered the art of the home manicure, I spend an inordinate amount of time and money at the “Nail Place”.

4. The place where I work is kind of weird. Today, junior partner stops by my office, tells me to meet him in the conference room, then heads in the opposite direction. I see this as an opportunity to make a pit stop, so I head for the ladies room. Right when I get to the restroom door, junior partner, in the lobby surrounded by other attorneys, yells out “Hey M.A., I didn’t mean that conference room, I meant the other conference room.” If he had been alone, I would have flipped him off.

5. I've been told I have weird eating habits. Tonight I was on my own for dinner. It consisted of half a pint of Haagen Dazs strawberry ice cream, eaten in bed while I watched Survivor. The weirdest part is, I had been happily looking forward to doing this all day and couldn't wait to get home.

6. I am deathly afraid of turtles, large or small. I’m not too comfortable around clowns either.

I just don't have the heart to tag anyone else. But please feel free to list all of your weird traits in the comment section. I mean, it's only fair.

I think I am going to go visit Dr. Dinah at Shrink Rap now.

Update: A Lurker's Dream Come True

I think I have been banned from making comments on other people's blogs (I apologized, what more do you want from me?). Or else I'm having technical difficulties. Blogger won't let me log into the comment section of other blogs.

No Answer Expected

I just read on a doctor’s blog that “. . . there is a generally accepted rule that one surgeon does not clean up another surgeon's mess. It's a bad idea for many reasons not the least of which is a liability one.”

How many chances does one give a surgeon to clean up his own mess?

I don’t expect an answer.

I'm not really picking on surgeons. I'm just in that kind of mood.

Further Wandering Through the Medblogs

I’ve been in a little bit of a medblog rut lately. Not that I wasn’t enjoying my regular reads, I was just craving a little variety. So I ventured outside the U.S. and found me a med student, an ER doc, and I think a surgeon, but I'm not sure.

I don’t know anything about the UK (except for Celebdaq, which is what occupied my time at work before I discovered the medblogs), so I don’t understand half of what these guys are talking about. But I love the way they turn a phrase. Plus they can be kind of moody and dark.

The Angry Medic is a medical student at Cambridge. Very enjoyable reading, but I will be more interested in his take on the upcoming "The Apprentice".

Dr. Shroom is an ER doctor. I read him so I know what colour I don’t want to be, i.e., blue, yellow, parchment white.

Hospital Phoenix is a surgeon (I think), unemployed at the moment. Damn NHS (whatever the hell that is). If you are offended by Nurse Quacktitioner, you’d better skip this one.

What I agonized over whether to delete or leave in this post: ["I thought I was developing a little crush on one of these guys, but reconsidered after reading a headline declaring there was a serial killer on the loose in England. With my track record . . ."]

In case you ever wanted to know what lawyers talk about while eating birthday cake in the conference room:

1. Dead rock stars
2. Autoerotic asphyxiation
3. Rising property taxes.

Note to HospitalPhoenix: I am going to miss you and nurse quack.

Stitches or Staples?

My secretary is back, appendix-less. She walks in my office and immediately lifts up her blouse and pulls down her pants a little to show us (me and two boy attorneys) her scar. She had to have an open procedure because of prior abdominal surgery.

So, of course, the two boy attorneys had to show their old scars (and tell the same old stories re: how they got them.). Two more boy attorneys come into my office, more scars to see; more boyhood stories. They love an opportunity to show their old scars. 

Anyway, this made me wonder: Staples or stitches? Boy attorney had staples for his appy; secretary had stitches. What’s the difference? And what if the patient has a preference? It looks like the scarring might be worse for staples. And if it’s an attractive patient, will the surgeon make an extra effort to make sure there is less of a chance of scarring (if that’s possible)? If someone is concerned about scarring, can they request a plastic surgeon? And does that offend the original surgeon?