Monday, July 31, 2017


It's Saturday afternoon. As I'm heading home from the hospital, Mrs. Grumpy texts me to get some tomatoes at the grocers and to pick up my Sarcasma at the pharmacy before she has to kill me.

I'd been at Marie's basketball game when the hospital called, and so was wearing an old Motörhead T-shirt. While waiting in line at the grocery store some guy came over.

Some Guy: "Hey, I like that T-shirt."

Dr. Grumpy: "Uh, thank you."

I'm generally not one for small talk, so stared at my iPhone and began checking email. Unfortunately, this didn't stop him.

Some Guy: "I'm a big Motörhead fan. I saw them in person back in the day."

Dr. Grumpy: "Cool."

Some Guy: "I love their stuff. I was busted up when Lemmy died. You know, I don't think I've ever seen that particular T-shirt. Where'd you get it?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Uh, don't remember." (Actually, I'm pretty sure I got it at the charity thrift store for $1)

(I texted Mary asking her to call me so I can answer my phone)

Some Guy: "How much do you want for it?"

(He didn't really say that, did he? I'll just keep staring at my phone.)

Some Guy: "I like it. How much do you want for it?"

(For a fleeting second I think about it. I paid $1 for it... Ask him for $40 and see what he says.)

Dr. Grumpy: "No, thank you. Then I'd have nothing to wear home, and I still have errands to run."

Some Guy: "That's easy. I'll give you mine."

I look at him. He's wearing a white wife-beater undershirt with food stains and probably more antibiotic-resistant organisms than an uncleaned colonoscopy tube.

Dr. Grumpy: "Uh, no thanks."

(Mary texts me back, asking how much a call is worth to me)

Some Guy: "Your loss, dude."

He walks off. I got the tomatoes and headed over to the pharmacy. While in line there...

Some Guy: "Hey! It's you again. Did you change your mind? I came by to get some condoms. I'm still willing to switch shirts."

Dr. Grumpy: "No, thank you. I'll keep this one."

(The other people in line are looking at both of us like we're street performers)

Some Guy: "I've got a sort-of cleaner T-shirt in my car, I'll throw that one in, too."

Pharmacist: "Next in line, please."

It's my turn. Thank heavens.

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Back next week!

We're still dragging kids around (and vice versa).

Sunday, July 9, 2017

Off, again

Heading out for our big trip of the summer.

3 kids, lots of relatives, and our credit cards.

See you in a few weeks!

Wednesday, July 5, 2017


Back in residency, I occasionally had to round with Dr. Levodopa on weekends.

Dr. Levodopa, in a field of pathological personalities, had more odd mannerisms than I could count. But his strangest was that he carried a cup of black coffee... in his white coat pocket.

Not a travel mug, or even a generic cup with a plastic lid on it. But an open styrofoam cup. He'd fill it about 3/4 to the top at the nurses station, take a few sips, shove it in one of the coat's lower pockets, and start rounds.

So he had a large collection of white coats, all with dark coffee stains running from the right front pocket to the hem. As he'd walk, or move, or cough, coffee would slosh out, running down his white coat, pant leg, and to the floor. He never seemed to notice.

He was, though,  clearly aware of it, because he'd change into a clean coat as soon as he got to his clinic.

Like in "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," the resident on rounds with him would carry around a large towel (we kept several old ones in the call room for this purpose) to keep the floor from being slippery and wet as Dr. Levodopa wandered to and fro. He was, as best we could tell, completely oblivious to our efforts. Or, more likely, just didn't care.

25 years later... and I still don't understand why he did this.

Monday, July 3, 2017

Not particularly helpful

Seen in a chart. Apparently, death is a diagnosis, and it has a 100% chance of running in families.

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