A quote from a nurse tonight in reference to a man who was brought in by his mother because he hadn't shit since Christmas:
"Doctor, the patient in room 11 is saving his stool to show you. You will not believe what came out of that man's rectum. There is no way it's going to flush."
Another satisfied customer.
Okay, now that you've appreciated the humor just in what the nurse said alone... there's more:
Let it be known that this man actually came to the ER HAND-CUFFED!! IN POLICE CUSTODY!! with an ECO (emergency custody order) for medical treatment. I saw him cuffed and assumed he was suicidal or homocidal. So my interview went something like this:
"Do you want to hurt yourself?"
"No."
"Do you want to hurt anyone else?"
"No."
"Why did the police bring you to see me today?"
"I haven't pooped since Christmas."
Hand-cuffed for constipation. That's a first. Apparently this man didn't want to see the doctor because he hates enemas, so his mom actually had him dragged in by police so we could have the pleasure of birthing has baby-sized shit. Before you get any ideas, you can't just call the police to drag whoever you want to the ER... this guy has mental retardation and therefore limited insight into his medical condition. It all worked out for him, though. He was as proud as a new papa of those big turds that clogged our toilet. Go fleets enema, go.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Our Little Parrot
Cole is hysterical these days. He absorbs everything, and as his language skills grow, so does his ability to crack us up.
Before I realized Cole was retaining my word choices, I used to scream down to Dan from the nursery about the status of Graham's diaper as I changed him. "Eewwwwww.... runny shit," or "patty shit" (the hard rock-like kind), or "green shit," or "BIG shit."
I stopped this when Cole started to echo "BIG shit" back to me. Recently I've been trying to say "BIG Poopy" in front of Cole, but it's too late.
The other week Cole came running over to me, smelling obviously like he had just dropped a deuce, and he put his hand on his butt and informed me, "Mama, Big shit." Great. Bet that's a hit at daycare.
I tried to correct him, "Big POOPY, Cole," but it did little good.
This morning I put him on his changing table for his morning diaper change and tried to reinforce "poopy" as the appropriate term. "Okay, Cole, let's clean your POOPY."
Cole simply corrected me. "Big shit, Mama. Big SHIT."
Before I realized Cole was retaining my word choices, I used to scream down to Dan from the nursery about the status of Graham's diaper as I changed him. "Eewwwwww.... runny shit," or "patty shit" (the hard rock-like kind), or "green shit," or "BIG shit."
I stopped this when Cole started to echo "BIG shit" back to me. Recently I've been trying to say "BIG Poopy" in front of Cole, but it's too late.
The other week Cole came running over to me, smelling obviously like he had just dropped a deuce, and he put his hand on his butt and informed me, "Mama, Big shit." Great. Bet that's a hit at daycare.
I tried to correct him, "Big POOPY, Cole," but it did little good.
This morning I put him on his changing table for his morning diaper change and tried to reinforce "poopy" as the appropriate term. "Okay, Cole, let's clean your POOPY."
Cole simply corrected me. "Big shit, Mama. Big SHIT."
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Two-Toothed Crawling, Babbling Wonder
Little Big Graham is speeding through all his baby milestones. Now he has his two front bottom teeth. They're charmingly lopsided right now since the left one came in first, and the right one is just barely peeking up through his gum.
Just around the time his teeth came popping in, he began dragging himself around in search of things to bite. No longer does he sit and cry for stuff that he can't reach, or even try to log roll over and over until he rolls into it. Now he commando-crawls wherever he wants to go. We'll see him set his sights on something and then slowly and steadily drag himself with his big chunky arms across the floor on his belly and elbows until his supreme determination pays off and he gets what he wants in his fat little hand. Half the time he has gone after something Cole was playing with and then, after all that work, Cole looks down at him and says "No, Gi-gi" and takes it away. Poor Graham! He just keeps practicing and goes after something else. He's working on staying up on his hands and knees. Right now he gets up and as soon as he tries to move he does a belly flop, but it won't be long until he really crawls!
He sure has had a lot to say about all these new developments. The last week or so he's discovered his voice. Now he babbles so expressively that even Cole is inclined to answer him. He mixes it up between "BaBaBa", "WaWaWa," and "YaYaYa." A few times I thought I heard "MaMaMa." (Maybe I'll get lucky and Gi-gi will be one of the rare babies who says Mama before Dada. It's a known phenomenon that babies usually say Dada first, because it's an easier sound for them. Cole said Dada months and months before Mama. But Gigi has been working on "MaMaMa" and hasn't said anything resembling "DaDaDa," so I am optimistic.) The boy has got some lungs on him and will belt out his new syllables quite loudly. He tends to do it when he's pissed, so half the time it sounds like a little baby swear. "WaWaWhere's MaMaMy F***ing Dinner YaYaYou BaBaBitch?" Or something like that. Graham's a trip!
Just around the time his teeth came popping in, he began dragging himself around in search of things to bite. No longer does he sit and cry for stuff that he can't reach, or even try to log roll over and over until he rolls into it. Now he commando-crawls wherever he wants to go. We'll see him set his sights on something and then slowly and steadily drag himself with his big chunky arms across the floor on his belly and elbows until his supreme determination pays off and he gets what he wants in his fat little hand. Half the time he has gone after something Cole was playing with and then, after all that work, Cole looks down at him and says "No, Gi-gi" and takes it away. Poor Graham! He just keeps practicing and goes after something else. He's working on staying up on his hands and knees. Right now he gets up and as soon as he tries to move he does a belly flop, but it won't be long until he really crawls!
He sure has had a lot to say about all these new developments. The last week or so he's discovered his voice. Now he babbles so expressively that even Cole is inclined to answer him. He mixes it up between "BaBaBa", "WaWaWa," and "YaYaYa." A few times I thought I heard "MaMaMa." (Maybe I'll get lucky and Gi-gi will be one of the rare babies who says Mama before Dada. It's a known phenomenon that babies usually say Dada first, because it's an easier sound for them. Cole said Dada months and months before Mama. But Gigi has been working on "MaMaMa" and hasn't said anything resembling "DaDaDa," so I am optimistic.) The boy has got some lungs on him and will belt out his new syllables quite loudly. He tends to do it when he's pissed, so half the time it sounds like a little baby swear. "WaWaWhere's MaMaMy F***ing Dinner YaYaYou BaBaBitch?" Or something like that. Graham's a trip!
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Whatever Works
It’s February. It’s freezing out (high of 32 here today). It’s cold and flu season. So people are getting sick and they’re coming in mass to my ER, where many are getting admitted to the hospital with things like pneumonia. The other weekend between the other ER doctor and myself, I think we admitted 20 patients to the same on-call internist. I was working overnight and I swear I called this poor doc every 2 hours all night long, and he was remarkably gracious about it.
I had heard some of the other ER docs complain that this internist and some of his colleagues can be difficult when you call them for an admission. This is not entirely uncharacteristic of internists… There is a constant war of wills between ER docs and internists – We call them to admit patients and they get annoyed because they don’t always agree with our plan and instead think the patient can go home, etc., etc. BUT they are not the ones at the bedside and can’t really make that call over the phone from the comfort of their couch, so they have to either get off their ass and come in to see the patient or give telephone orders for admission and then suck it up and take charge of the patient’s care upstairs. So you can imagine that sometimes they are not too fond of us, since we create a lot of work for them. Although, on the flip side, they are the ones sending us all the patients who call them with anything that might sound remotely concerning… basically when they get too busy to see their own patients they tell them on the phone, "Just go to the ER." So it works both ways. But you can imagine it could be grounds for some conflict every now and then.
One thing I like about where I work is that, personally, I’ve found the group of internists to be very agreeable. They seldom give ME a hard time about admitting patients. I joke that I could call some of them and say, "I’m sending a young healthy person with a hangnail to the ICU," and they’d respond "Sure, Dr. So&So."
So the other night I wasn’t too terribly surprised when this poor internist that I was hammering was so gracious. I felt bad about torturing him all night with admissions, but it was just one of those shifts when everyone was sick. The next morning one of the nurses was teasing him: "Dr. Mo, What are you trying to do? Admit the whole town?"
His response maybe explains some of the reason I don’t seem to encounter too much resistance when it comes to admissions. I wasn’t there for the comment, but the nurse passed it on to me the next time I saw her. He answered: "It’s Dr. So&So. She’s so damn cute, I just can’t say 'No'!"
Hey, cuteness isn’t at the top of the list of what is supposed to make a good doctor, but if my cuteness helps get my patients admitted when they need to be, I’ll take it.
I had heard some of the other ER docs complain that this internist and some of his colleagues can be difficult when you call them for an admission. This is not entirely uncharacteristic of internists… There is a constant war of wills between ER docs and internists – We call them to admit patients and they get annoyed because they don’t always agree with our plan and instead think the patient can go home, etc., etc. BUT they are not the ones at the bedside and can’t really make that call over the phone from the comfort of their couch, so they have to either get off their ass and come in to see the patient or give telephone orders for admission and then suck it up and take charge of the patient’s care upstairs. So you can imagine that sometimes they are not too fond of us, since we create a lot of work for them. Although, on the flip side, they are the ones sending us all the patients who call them with anything that might sound remotely concerning… basically when they get too busy to see their own patients they tell them on the phone, "Just go to the ER." So it works both ways. But you can imagine it could be grounds for some conflict every now and then.
One thing I like about where I work is that, personally, I’ve found the group of internists to be very agreeable. They seldom give ME a hard time about admitting patients. I joke that I could call some of them and say, "I’m sending a young healthy person with a hangnail to the ICU," and they’d respond "Sure, Dr. So&So."
So the other night I wasn’t too terribly surprised when this poor internist that I was hammering was so gracious. I felt bad about torturing him all night with admissions, but it was just one of those shifts when everyone was sick. The next morning one of the nurses was teasing him: "Dr. Mo, What are you trying to do? Admit the whole town?"
His response maybe explains some of the reason I don’t seem to encounter too much resistance when it comes to admissions. I wasn’t there for the comment, but the nurse passed it on to me the next time I saw her. He answered: "It’s Dr. So&So. She’s so damn cute, I just can’t say 'No'!"
Hey, cuteness isn’t at the top of the list of what is supposed to make a good doctor, but if my cuteness helps get my patients admitted when they need to be, I’ll take it.
Monday, February 05, 2007
One-Toothed Wonder
Special Milestone: Graham got his first tooth one week ago today!
And not-so-swift Mom and Dad were not even the first ones to appreciate it. Graham’s note from day-care Monday night said, "Graham loved showing off his new tooth today." When I read it, my heart sank because no one is supposed to have to point it out to you that your own child got his first tooth.
Ironically, Dan and I had just discussed the night before that his tooth was working its way up. I had felt it there under his front lower gum a couple of days before, and then Sunday night Graham had a fit of inconsolable crying which is not like him at all. He went to sleep for the night only after Tylenol, so we figured that a little tooth was cutting through… but I guess neither one of us had clean hands at the time to be poking in his mouth. In my defense, I went to work Sunday night after he went to bed and didn’t even see him Monday morning. The tooth made its debut at day-care Monday, so the ladies at Goddard got to tell us about it, instead of the other way around.
Either way, Graham is proud as a peacock! Go, Graham, Go!
And not-so-swift Mom and Dad were not even the first ones to appreciate it. Graham’s note from day-care Monday night said, "Graham loved showing off his new tooth today." When I read it, my heart sank because no one is supposed to have to point it out to you that your own child got his first tooth.
Ironically, Dan and I had just discussed the night before that his tooth was working its way up. I had felt it there under his front lower gum a couple of days before, and then Sunday night Graham had a fit of inconsolable crying which is not like him at all. He went to sleep for the night only after Tylenol, so we figured that a little tooth was cutting through… but I guess neither one of us had clean hands at the time to be poking in his mouth. In my defense, I went to work Sunday night after he went to bed and didn’t even see him Monday morning. The tooth made its debut at day-care Monday, so the ladies at Goddard got to tell us about it, instead of the other way around.
Either way, Graham is proud as a peacock! Go, Graham, Go!
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