(larger version here) (her journal is here)

Monday, October 16, 2000:
What does STAT stand for:  Nobody knows.
Feeling:  Better.  I needed that vacation.
The Main Page is now Mac-friendly thanks to:  Charles.
 My Full-blooded Asian Brothers Need Love Too: www.goldencandy.com.

 

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YES MAMM!

Wrong number O’ the day:

CALLER:  "Hello, is this mammography?"

ME:  "No, I think you have the wrong number."

I do all my breast exams for free, and preferably orally.

REMINDER:  October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month!!!  So take care of those yummy mammies and get them checked.  Get the double scoop at the official site, www.nbcam.org.  (I just don’t understand why NBCAM won’t let me be their spokesperson.)

 

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ROUNDS

The team of residents and students convene in my office (a.k.a. Someone Else's Storage Room) and we discuss the plans for that day on each of our patients.

One of the new patients is a suicide attempt.

"What did he use and was there a note?" are my first two questions.

"He took twenty Benadryl -- " the intern starts.

"Benadryl? Hahaha!" I can’t help it, but I quickly recompose myself, "Sorry, go on."

"After the Benadryl, he left a note, and drove to a parking lot to die," the intern explains, "He ended up falling asleep outside his car for several hours.  When he woke up he drove himself home and called EMS."

The senior resident answers the second question,

"The note was found by his 16-year old son while he was sleeping in the parking lot."

He reads a copy of the note written to his wife, in summary:

"... I know I've caused you a lot of hardship and when you find out what I have done, there will be even more.  I'm sorry about that.  I can't talk to you about this or to anyone. 

"If I had to walk through hell to meet you on the other side, I would do that, but I know you would not be waiting for me. 

"... p.s.  I don't know what you'll do about money when I'm gone.  Maybe you can sue the doctors because they were supposed to make me better and they didn't."

"It gets better though," the senior adds,

"He was arrested a week prior for peeping into women's houses at night and watching them undress.  When they found him, he wasn't wearing any pants, and he was ... um ... you know."

"And his wife doesn't know about this yet?" I ask.

"No, but he wanted to tell her about it now since he was in the hospital," the senior answers.

"He said he just meant this as a cry for attention.  He was very nice to me, I kind of felt sorry for him," the intern states sheepishly.

The intern is an intelligent woman with a family of her own.  It just goes to show how charming some of these deranged fucks can be around a pretty woman.  Obviously I'm not psychiatrist material, but I do think the DSM IV would be a lot more interesting with chapter titles like "Deranged Fucks" or "Perversion Excursions" or "Momma’s Boys" or "There Are Insects Crawling Inside of Me!"

Even though no one was hurt, at least one woman's peace of mind was invaded by the threat of something horrible outside her window.  I don't consider voyeurism a bad thing, as long as its consensual, but this guy was a doorknob away from gaining a spot in an entirely new level of the Inferno.  Sure, he was just a Peeping Tom today, but maybe tomorrow the thrill would be gone, and he'd try to regain it in another way on the other side of the window next time.

The senior is shocked at the intern's sympathy.

"Feel sorry for him?  What if this sicko was peeping on your sister or your kids?" he asks her.

"Then he would be a DEAD sicko ... I just think he needs some help, is all," the intern defends.

I change the subject.

Eventually we finish going over the old and new tests, the certainties and the uncertainties, the consults and discharges for the day on our list.

"Let's go see these people," I say as my team grabs one last handful of M&M's from my ever-full Bowl of M&M's before hitting the floors.

We see Mrs. Crone first.  She's older than her years, and a bit crazy.  Her apartment manager sounds disappointed when we say she will probably be going back today.  Mrs. Crone has a different reaction.

INTERN:  "You're going home today Mrs. Crone."

CRONE:  "I am?!!  Oh my thank you thank you!!"

Her spindly limbs envelope our darling intern and she actually kisses her on the face hugging her tight.  Mrs. Crone has refused to take a bath or brush her teeth during this entire hospitalization.  She's not a huge fan of toilet paper either.

INTERN:  "Oh God!  Aghhh!!"

CRONE:  "Thank you so much my little grasshopper!  Mmm-whah!"

INTERN:  "Ggkkk!  Your what?  That's okay, just ... let ... go!"

Mrs. Crone doesn't seem to notice when the intern runs to the sink and scrubs her face and hands.

CRONE:  "La la lala la .... Hee hee ...."

INTERN (outside room):  "Can I order a STAT Infectious Disease and Derm consult for myself?  God, my face still itches."

ME:  "Hey, you've made two new friends today, an old psychotic lady and a suicidal masturbating peeping tom.  Did we check Mrs. Crone for scabies?"

INTERN:  "Eww! Eww!!"

I'm not kidding either.

The next patient is a sweet but incompetent HOH LOL (hard of hearing little old lady) who is being treated for heart failure.  She came from home, but her legal guardian agreed that a nursing home would be best for her.  Mentally incompetent, she has no choice in the matter, not that she would know the difference.

Nursing homes.  That’s another level in the Inferno.  The sin is growing old.

I touch her hand.

ME:  "HELLO MRS. HOHLOL!  GOOD NEWS!  YOU'RE ALL SET TO LEAVE TODAY!"

HOHLOL (smiling):  "What?  Food?  No I ate already, thank you dear."

ME:  "NO.  TODAY.  YOU.  GET.  TO.  GO.  HOME.... *ahem* ... a nursing home."

(After that last part, my team leaves the room because they're all laughing too hard.  She doesn’t hear them.)

HOHLOL:  "Roam?  No I don't get out too much."

ME:  "BYE MRS. HOHLOL!  HAVE A NICE TRIP!"

HOHLOL:  "You're nice too."

We eventually visit Peeping Tom's room.  Inside, his wife is sitting in bed with him, beaming.  She looks pretty in a washed-out plain sort of way.  She can't possibly know about him yet, I try to tell myself.

We talk briefly.  He's medically fine.  Just waiting for psych to come in and take him away to the Ninth Level, Psych floor.  I am as kind to him as I am to the little old ladies with the the twinkle in the eyes (the ones without cataracts).  And yet, he still gives me attitude, like I'm the lying lecherous potential rapist creep here.  Maybe he can read my mind, because when I look into his distant eyes, I feel like I can read his.  We look into each other's soul windows.  The darkness on the other side creates a reflection, a distorted obscene one though, like a gangrenous clown with a pus-filled head.   

I don't like him what I see, so we leave.

It takes about two floors before I look back at my innocent medstudents, shake my head again, and say,

"Was it my imagination or was he actually .... "

"No, he was definitely acting weird toward you," the student says shaking his head.

 

The rest of rounds are work as usual.

"There’s a mass in your liver…. Yeah … it could be cancer."

Next.

"Maybe you can go home tomorrow …. (Ducking.)  Yes, I did say that yesterday.  You’re getting sharper every day, and quicker too.  (Almost got me that time.)"

Next.

"Mr. Coma?  MR. COMA?!  No change, let’s go."

Next.

"No, Mrs. Brigand, we really can’t keep you here another day."

"You know Mrs. Brigand committed social security fraud, and she’s afraid of going home and getting arrested, right?"

Next.

"Just 20 more days of I.V. antibiotics and you’re free."  (We can’t send I.V. drug abusers home with I.V.’s.)

Next.

"No, I’M the Attending.  He’s the intern."

Next.

"That’s okay, don’t get up … could we have a nurse in here … CODE BROWN."

Next.

"… I SAID, IF YOUR HEART STOPS BEATING, DO YOU WANT US TO BANG ON YOUR CHEST TO START IT AGAIN? … I SAID … Jesus …."

Next.

"Did you have arrangements with a particular funeral home?"

Next.

"Doctor, Mrs. Brigand just told us (the nurses) that she is suicidal and will kill herself if she goes home."

"Sigh.  Fine.  Psych consult STAT.  Suicide precautions.  She’s staying.  I'm going then."

Next.

"How was work today baby?"

"The same."

 

[My desk, left to right:  Korea picture, two M&M dispensers given to me by my residents (different teams), and me.]

 

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