Something for the Girls

No, it's not nekkid men. I save those for myself. But if you've ever had a manicure, I think you will find this funny.

Another Work Related Letter

Yes, I’ve “unpublished” my last two posts. It’s fun to delete. My posts now have an average lifespan of 6 hours. Maybe this one will stick.

A letter to a fellow associate:

Dear Dickhead,

Your secretary is not a bitch and she is not incompetent. You are a prick. Once you realize this and start acting halfway human towards her, your job will become a whole lot easier. She might even start covering your ass for you so that the next time you screw up, you won’t get invited to another one of those intimate closed door meetings with the partners. And your refusal to participate in the Secretary’s Day* festivities made you look like the biggest asshole loser on this planet.

Sincerely,

Medblog

P.S. If I were you, I’d think twice about eating any chocolates you receive on Boss's Day.


* That’s what the secretaries call it, so that’s what we call it (as opposed to Administrative Professional’s Day)

4/26/07 1:15 p.m Okay, I was going to "unpublish" this one because it makes me sound like a Grade-A bitch. But I'm going to leave it up and just say that I was a little cranky when I wrote it. I really do need a vacation.

Goodbye MSG

Yesterday I read that MSG was retiring Creating the Godcomplex. I really hate to see him go. MSG’s blog was one of the first medblogs I found. I made one of my rare early ventures out of lurkdom just so I could ask MSG to write about how medical students learned to suture. And he was nice enough to do it.

I don’t know if other readers experience this, but sometimes I just “connect” with a blogger. MSG was one of those connections. I didn’t always agree with what he wrote, but I always felt like he was writing from his heart and I appreciated his honesty.

Good luck, MSG. I'm going to miss you.

There is No Math on the LSAT

During law school orientation, the speaker (can’t recall who it was) asked people in the audience why they were going to law school. There were the usual answers: I want to help people; I want to make a difference; my father (mother, brother, etc.) is a lawyer. Naturally, I was trying to blend in with the woodwork so I wouldn't get called on, and of course I was called on. I answered truthfully: There is no math on the LSAT (Law School Admission Test). Everyone laughed and several other people admitted that was the reason why they were there as well.

Occasionally, I am asked why I don't go to medical school since I am enamored with all things medical. It’s easy. I suck at math/science and I am very particular about what I will put my hands on. And then there is what I call the “Yuck Factor”. You know, pee, poop, pus, puke, blood, etc. I don't think I could ever get past the Yuck Factor. Whenever my cat threw up a hairball, there was always a 50/50 chance that the clean up of said hairball would be interrupted by my own cookies being tossed.

Surprisingly, despite being the sensitive marshmallow that I am, I don’t think I would have too much of a problem with the emotional aspects of medicine. Of course, there would be the challenge of trying to suppress the urge to giggle at inappropriate times. And since I have the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy, that might be an insurmountable obstacle.

But what if someone really, really, really wanted to become a doctor? Could they learn to overcome the Yuck Factor? Are there people who start out in med school/nursing school who have weak stomachs and then learn to deal with it? Or do people drop out after eventually realizing that they will never be capable of basking in the glory of butt pus?

Delete Heartbroken?

I just got finished reading a horrible post on another blog. It included threats of de-linking. It sounded so lame and pathetic that I immediately came back to delete my “Heartbroken” post. I reconsidered though (mainly because of the comments re: EMTALA; you should check them out, very informative and entertaining).

Hopefully, everyone who reads “Heartbroken” realizes that I am poking fun at myself for briefly getting my feelings hurt because ATM was removed from the KevinMD feeds (ATM did not get de-linked by Kevin). If I were really upset about it, I would do what I always do: remain silent, pout and make BF’s life miserable until I got over it, even though BF had nothing to do with it.

Lawyer Joke of the Day

Q: How many lawyer jokes are there?

A: Just two, all the rest are true.

I've added a new feature to my sidebar. Lawyer Joke of the Day. Now all I have to do is remember to post a new joke every day.

And y'all be nice. I know they are old jokes. But some of them are kind of funny.

Heartbroken

Sadly, every word in this post is true.

A while back, there was a little controversy going on in the med-blogosphere and I found it interesting that some bloggers used their blogroll like a weapon:

"I cannot believe you feel this way. I have banished you from my blogroll."

"You are brilliant. I have added you to my Links and put a star by your name."

Addicted to Medblogs ("ATM") has been de-linked twice. I couldn't give a rat's ass about the first de-linking. I still think that blogger is kind of nutty. The second de-linking stung, but I understand why he did it.

But I was heartbroken to learn today that ATM has been removed from the KevinMd.feeds. While I never felt like I deserved it, I was truly honored that ATM was included on the KevinMd.feeds page. I don't know why ATM was removed. Hopefully it was removed because it was unpopular, and not because Dr. Kevin thought it sucked.

So now, drawing on what I have learned from the medblogs, I realize that today I have gone through the five stages of grief:

1. Denial--this can't be happening to me. Surely it must be a technical problem and ATM will be back up tomorrow. Maybe I should e-mail Dr. Kevin.

2. Anger--feelings of wanting to fight back or get even. I am going to de-link KevinMD.feeds. No, I can't do that. I love his blog and the feeds; plus I like the convenience of the link.

3. Bargaining--attempting to make deals to stop or change the loss. Please Dr. Kevin, I will post more frequently. I will finish my research and write an interesting, thought-provoking post on EMTALA [instead of going with my original plan, which was to just write a post asking someone to explain why ER physicians say that they do not get paid for treating uninsured patients. I understand the on-call physician situation, but not ER docs. Not too dumb a question, is it?]

4. Depression--feelings of hopelessness, bitterness and self-pity. Well, yes, but not enough to warrant a visit to ShrinkRap for anything other than entertainment.

5. Acceptance--accepting the loss and finding that good can come out of the pain. I am going to work on my writing skills and improve the quality of posts on ATM. It will be the best damn blog ever written (umm, is delusional part of the grieving process?).

Everyone knows what mends a broken heart. I have to go now. There is a giant bowl of chocolate fudge ice cream in the kitchen with my name on it.

Spring Fever?

Today, I spent most of the day looking out my office window, wishing I was someplace else. With someone else. Doing something else. I only worked when the phone rang or someone asked me a direct question.

I don’t see how you medical people do it. With your jobs, it looks like you would never be able to have an “off” day. Or a bad day. Or a I just don’t give a fuck day.

I think I need a vacation.

Post About Nothing

I had planned on posting something this weekend, but I made the mistake of wandering through the medblogs before I started writing. It was a mistake because after reading so many great blogs out there, I lost my will to write.

So instead of writing, I spent part of my allotted home computer time doing some research on EMTALA. I want to be a little more informed when I am reading the ER blogs. Pretty interesting, but I still have some unanswered questions.

While I was wandering through the medblogs, I stumbled on something kind of surprising. It seems some ER nurses have a dirty little secret. Something they like to call Emergency Nurse Porn. But it's probably not what you think. Geez, they are respected professionals. Of course it's not what you think.

I think I will make this a post a cliffhanger. (Really, I forgot the name of the ER nurse’s blog and this will give me time to find it again so I can link to it. I'd do it tonight, but Dr. Schwab is finally talking about gallbladders (!!!) and I have to go read his post.)

Silly Question

When I was growing up, my mother told me and my brothers to make sure that we always left the house wearing clean underwear and clean socks because “what if we were in an accident and had to go to the Emergency Room?” Do doctors and nurses really notice whether a patient is wearing clean underwear and socks?

[Umm. Just so we're clear on this. I would wear clean underwear and socks even if there wasn't a chance I might end up having to go to the ER. Although, I have to admit there might occasionally be a hole in my sock. Well, if it's on the bottom, who's gonna see it? Except maybe someone in the ER. Okay, no more socks with holes.]

Note to MSG: Hey sweetie, I really like your blog (sorry, I couldn't resist).

UPDATE: Yes, I'm still alive. I will have a new post sometime this weekend. Thanks for stopping by.

Dr. Doctor

I just read a medblog about how patients and doctors address each other.

I don’t know if it’s where I am from or how I was raised, but there is absolutely no way that I could call a doctor by his or her first name. I cannot even bring myself to call a blogger doctor by his or her blogging name without inserting Dr. in front of it, e.g., Dr. Dinosaur. Mostly, it’s a sign of respect for the person and the profession.

But that’s not the only reason. I don’t want to call my doctor by his first name. To be honest, I don’t even want my doctor to have a first name. I want that person to be a superhero, with no feelings and no faults. That way, there is no possibility of a bad outcome. I’m not being unrealistic, am I?

Cookies for Doctors

I feel like a crumb because I never considered bringing cookies to my doctors as a way of saying "thank you". This post was inspired by EchoDoc. She wrote a great post about one of her partner's ungrateful patients.

I am hoping that I at least told Dr. Gastro and Dr. Jekyll (surgeon) thank you for taking away my pain and jaundice. But I don’t think that I did. I know I gave them the standard polite thank you each time I left the examining room, but I don’t think I ever thanked them specifically for making me feel better. I don’t know if this is because I’m inconsiderate or if I just figured they were doing their job. Maybe it was just my inexperience at being a patient. And I never once considered bringing them baked goods.

I ended up having to stay in the hospital for five days after my chole (something about not letting me go home with a fever). I received excellent care from the nurses, et al. When I finally got sprung, I wanted to do show my appreciation to those that took care of me. I told the nurses, et al. that they could have all of my flower arrangements. They seemed to like that. I also arranged for a friend to bring a humongous bowl of miniature candy bars and other edible goodies for the nurses’ desk. They really seemed to like that.

I did this because everyone that took care of me during those five days seem to go out of their way to be nice to me. I don’t think I would have felt right leaving without doing something special for them.

Which brings me to this. Now I feel like a crumb for not showing more appreciation to my doctors. My family doctor came by my room every day and never billed for it. I hope I told him thank you, but I can’t remember. The next time I see him, I plan on telling him how much I appreciated him stopping by. Because now I realize that he didn't have to.

There is no way I am asking for a “do-over” of the chole. So I’ll just try to be more appreciative next time. I still don’t see myself bringing cookies to a doctor. I guess some people are cookie people and some aren’t.

Crap, Crap, Crap

I finally have some time to write something for my blog and I don’t have a damn thing to say. I hate it when people don’t post regularly and I have become one of those people. Okay, anyone who has me Bloglined knows that I do post, I just pull the posts before anyone gets a chance to read them. Since I'm in the mood to blog, yet have nothing to say, I am going to write about what I have written and rejected as being not blogworthy. Something tells me this is another one of those 3 minute posts, i.e. I publish the post, wait three minutes, then remove it.

Cookies for Doctors -- This post was inspired by something I read on EchoDoc’s blog regarding an ungrateful patient. I wrote about how I felt like I didn’t show enough appreciation to my doctors. You know, some people are cookie people and some aren’t.

Five Pounds – This post didn’t even make it to the “Publish” button. I wrote about how I gained 5 pounds over the holidays and had been walking around hoping that the 5 pounds had been distributed evenly over my 5’7” frame and had not landed all on my ass. The point of the post was that last week I was back down to my fighting weight, yet no one had mentioned it. No one except a U.S. Marshall at the Federal Courthouse that I only see maybe once a week. I know, poor, poor pitiful me.

Men and Cabinet Doors – Another post that didn’t make it to “Publish”. This was a work rant asking why can't men ever close a cabinet (or closet or any other kind of) door. And why do they leave their Styrofoam coffee cups on the counter instead of just turning their lazy ass around and dropping it in the garbage can. They are standing right next to it!!!

Poop, Pus, Pee and Barf – Post where I attempt to answer the occasional question: Well, MA, if you’re so interested in all things medical, why don’t you get a job in the healthcare industry? (And no, you perv, I don’t have a “thing” for doctors, although I must say y’all look mighty cute in your scrubs.)

The Perfect Patient—After reading the medblogs, I learned that doctors don’t like all of their patients. Probably naïve of me to think that they did, but naïve is my middle name. Anyway, the competitor in me makes me want to be the perfect patient. So I wrote about the posts I had read and whether I was, or was not, the perfect patient. This post has some promise and I may actually do a little tweaking and publish it.

Where are all of the Funny Medblogs? – I wrote this when it seemed like every medblog I read was either serious, whiny, or sad and depressing. But then, that was my mood at the time, so I figured it was just the medblogs I was choosing to read. The last thing I want to do is be critical of other people's blogs when, well, look at this post.

Recipes and Medblogs—Enough said. Addendum: Recipes and medblogs are two of my favorite things to read. When a medblog includes recipes, I am in hog heaven.

Sorry, Wrong Blog – This was actually two different posts that I withdrew. I am always surprised when my blog comes up when people are googling medical terms. I do have a suggestion if anyone needs a topic to write about. STAPLES OR STITCHES? I get at least 20 hits a day for that question alone. “Atrophied testicle”, “I hate lawyers” and “butt pus” are also very popular. My favorite though was “nurse prostate nude stirrups”.

Request for Lawyer Jokes--I know. I was really, really struggling when I wrote this one. Although that post did start off with a great doctor/golf joke. I am considering posting a new lawyer joke on my sidebar everyday. Then I won't feel so guilty about people stopping by when I haven't posted anything new.

Hey Scalpel, It’s Snowing!—The title says it all; there is no accompanying post. We came close, but I was never able to hit the “Publish” button for this one.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DR. DINO!

First Lesson I Learned in Law School

Today at lunch, the boys and I had margaritas and shared law school stories. This was mine.

It was in Civil Procedure during my second week of law school. Class had just started and I lifted the tab to open my Diet Coke. It sounded like a cannon shot in the otherwise quiet classroom. The professor glared at me but continued his lecture.

Then came time for recitation. In recitation, a student is called on to state the facts, the procedural history, the issue before the court, and the reasoning behind the court's holding on one of the cases assigned for class. This is sometimes known as "leading the helpless lamb to slaughter". At some point, the professor will begin pummeling the student with questions in an effort to bring out the more important aspects of the case.

This particular professor randomly called on students to stand and recite. It was the second week of law school. No one was comfortable reciting and we all tried to blend into the scenery when he was deciding on whom to call upon to recite.

For the first case, he called on the person sitting to my right.
For the second case, he called on the person sitting to my left.
For the third case, he called on the person sitting in front of me.
For the fourth and final case, he called on the person sitting behind me.

Then he called my name. I stood up on shaking legs, not knowing what to expect because there were no cases left. All he said was “Ms. Addict, I’d like to see you after class.”

After class, the professor just told me that he would appreciate it if I opened my soda before he began his lecture. The four people who were called on to recite because of my "Diet Coke incident" never let me forget about it. I was teased about it whenever I was spotted with a beverage in my hand, in class or out.

I didn’t realize it at the time but I got off very lucky. The professor could have thrown me out of his class. Or made me stand and recite during the entire class. Or he could have called on me to recite and then embarrassed and humiliated me to the point of wanting the ground to open up and swallow me. All of the above would happen to me at various times during my law school career. But I never again took a canned drink into the classroom.

Everyone Lies

I just read a post about patients who lie [it’s TrenchDoc, I’m just too lazy to link it]. Everyone lies. I lie. Witnesses, clients, bloggers, men, boyfriends, imaginary boyfriends, pretend boyfriends, ex-boyfriends (take it easy MA, they get the picture). They all lie. Why should patients be any different, even if it may kill them?

In law school, a professor once told us that everyone will lie to us, especially our clients (and not just the criminals). He said we would have to learn to ask the same question over and over, in different ways, so that we could learn what the truth actually was. Because no matter how bad the truth is, it is still better to hear it from your client alone in your office, rather than in a deposition, etc.

My question is: Is this something a doctor is taught in medical school, so they are prepared for patients who lie? Or is this something you learn on your own, through experience? And if it is taught in medical school, do med students immediately embrace the fact that all patients will lie to them? Or does it take awhile for them to accept this? Do you always go in assuming the patient will lie? Even the slightly nervous girl lawyer or the sweet Grandma sitting in your examining room?

Of course, I guess I shouldn't mind the reluctant truth-challenged client. I'll sit there all day listening to you dance around the truth, because my billing meter will be running every minute. And please, feel free to take that cell phone call during the middle of our meeting. I can always use the billable hours.

A Post From Work

Yesterday I received an e-mail from Junior Partner (“JP”) re: a research assignment. JP wants me to spend three hours gathering information on a certain medical condition. Now, the Firm doesn’t take any personal injury cases, so this could only mean one thing: JP’s teenage son has to write a research paper for English! (Umm, if anyone knows of any good articles on asthma, let me know. Especially if they contain cool pictures.)

For as long as I have been at the Firm, JP and I have been helping JP Jr. with his homework. Everything except math. JP had to hire a math tutor because we both suck at math.

When I first read JP’s e-mail, I had this brief moment of panic. Why does he want me to research a medical condition? Does he secretly monitor my Internet activity? Does he know about the medblog addiction? Can he read the e-mails I send/receive on my Yahoo mail account? [Please – no comments on whether the e-mail thing is possible. I don’t want to know the answer. I would rather live in ignorant bliss.]

In a (now deleted) post last week, I questioned whether I should continue to keep the medblog thing a secret. Really, I questioned whether I should continue to blog at all. I thought the strain of hiding my secret life as Medblog Addict was getting to me. Obviously, I chose to continue. At least for now. And I will continue to keep my identity as Medblog Addict a secret. I think I have to because I seem to remember writing a post wherein I revealed that (1) Boyfriend is an old fart trial attorney; and (2) I hated every pompous, tiny prick, rat bastard attorney that I worked with.

Right now, I have a research project to do. I have to finish it by 3:00 or else Dad won’t let me go to the big dance on Saturday night.

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.