Perhaps nowhere in the world has the invasion of ‘texting’ become so obvious. It’s no longer uncommon to walk in to a patient’s room, put out your hand, and try to introduce yourself, only to be ignored by someone busy messaging. I silently count to ten, and if they’re not done by then, I excuse myself and put the chart back on the ‘To Be Seen’ rack, at the end of the row, of course.
I truly believe the off-spring of such individuals will be born without fingers, rendered unnecessary over time, and with hypertrophic thumbs, made large, and needful by extensive use.
But even given that, until last week I have never seen this obsession carried to such extremes as the two patients who texted in the middle of a prostate exam, and a pelvic. But there it was. Okay, I’m an old fuddy-duddy. Guilty.…
Her two-year old had had a fever seizure. We needed to find the source of infection; lab work and a urinalysis. But, the mom was objecting. “How are you going to get the blood and the urine?” “A catheter and a needle.” “Isn’t there some other way to get his blood?” “None, I’ve ever heard of.”
She swept her child up and shouted, “This is malpractice! I’m going to file a complaint! Who are your attorneys?!” “Hooke, Lyne, and Sinker. But don’t contact them just yet, they’re in process of moving into a new double-wide.” [Well, okay, we didn’t say that; but did we want to? Oh yeah!]
In a memorable parting shot, she promised a reproachful letter to Administration.
She went home and called her pediatrician who told her the child really needed the tests. Back she came. “So how are you going to get his blood samples?” “Same way we were before, Ma’am. It’s only been two hours; technology doesn’t move that fast.” To conclude this comment made the slightest difference to her would be a triumph of wishful thinking.
Again with the child snatched up, again with the anger, again with the threats. Again, she left. It seems that brainlessness and a glaring willingness to make a shameless, public display of yourself, share a common frontier. I’d sooner clean out stalls than deal with people like this!
Alas, she’s not one-of-a-kind. Albert Einstein once said, “There a difference between genius and stupidity; genius has limitations.” Well said, Al!
…
The doc enters the room. Without greeting, the patient states: I’ve got a kidney infection
Doc: What are your symptoms?
Pt: The symptoms of a kidney infection.
Ya try to help some people.
…
Her story was she ‘accidently’ took twelve Xanax, and an MS Contin. She had drunk a beer; one, a single beer. It must have been one duzie of a mug; her blood alcohol was four times the legal limit. She arrived somewhat snowed but would periodically rise up and slur: I’m in shoo muuush pain. Could I get shoome narcotic?
For three hours, as she lay there sobering up, she would repeat this request. Finally she left in a huff, announcing her intent to file a complaint. [Our poor administrator is going to need a larger mailbox!]
…
It’s uncommon for octogenarians to flirt, but when I entered her room, the older woman looked at me with a strange blend of interest and hunger.
“You look just like my third husband!”
“How many husbands have you had.” I asked.
“Two.”
Gulp!
…
And then there are the faithful and the courageous…
Like the husbands and wives who faithfully stand by their demented spouses; their marital vows to cherish not contingent on a fading IQ or a declining cognitive capacity. I walked in the door. A severely contracted, non-verbal female wasting away from Parkinson’s, her mouth gaping open held her husband’s hand. He looked at me, sensed my question, and answered, “Fifty-two years we’ve been together. I’ll never leave my lady.”
Or, the twenty-year old who came in to see me. He had fallen twenty feet during a rock climb, suffered a concussion, a dangling left wrist, lacerations to his face and some chest pain. By the end of his stay in the ER, we had found three broken ribs, a lung collapse, and of course, a badly broken wrist, plus facial lacerations. So, how did he get back to civilization? He bandaged his face, used a stick to brace his wrist, pulled on his knapsack and hiked for two hours! Tough? Brings new meaning to the phrase.
– Lucky Garvin
