Dear Patient

Dear Patient,

I am annoyed. That is your fault. My frustration level just blew through the roof. Why, you ask? Ah, sit back, relax, and I will explain.

You lie. You lie. You lie. I detest dishonesty. You deny alcohol abuse. You don't admit to your cocaine binge. You state you are not pregnant. I know better. I should not have to arrive at work with a polygraph slung over my shoulder. Have you ever heard of honor? Do you have any candor? Have you no morals? I doubt it. You were probably sucking down a 40 and snorting a line while servicing your pimp that day in elementary school. Yes, this applies to you, whether you are female or male. Back, Abdominal, Chest, Neck or Head pain. It is all the same. You lie. You Lie. You Lie. Your alleged suffering is really starting to irk me.

I will not wipe your arse. I refuse to wrap myself in toilet paper this Halloween and call myself an Emergency Physician. I did not suffer through four years of medical school and then four years of residency to wipe your tush at 2 o'clock in the morning after you missed your doctor's appointment. I know you binged on Crack, somehow developed chest pain and then found your way to my abode. I do not feel sorry for your pathetic existence. Just because you felt it was necessary to destroy your remaining brain cells the past few days gives you no excuse for torturing me. I do not care about your ineptness.

You do not work. Yet, you have no desire to unearth some sort of employment. You are 25 years old and lack being bipolar. You have use of all four extremities. Your IQ is greater than 70. Huh? It is 11 o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday. Your left pinky has been bothering you for a month. You decide to have it "checked out?" I ask what you do for work. You then state...

"I don't have a job."

In disbelief, I reply "Why?"

I know it is not sexy to work at McDonalds or Pizza Hut. I know that manual labor is beyond you. However, you dropped out of elementary school in the 3rd grade. You have been smoking Black and Mild's since the age of 9, as well as drinking O'E on a stoop the past nine years. This does not give you the luxury of living off all of those that work for a living, which includes those that attempt to feed their family with their nominal daily income. There are many that work two jobs just so their children can have a toy for Christmas. You disgust me. You induce nausea.

Get out of my Emergency Department. Don't come back!

I am irate. I can no longer type.

Up yours,

One Dood...and OneDood Done...for now

Family Photos

I thought I would share pictures of my cousin and his sister with my faithful reader. My family in this post refers to my customers when I am possibly an ER doctor. Yes, this may actually be my career (for now).

This is my cousin after he was evicted from my Emergency Department on a beautiful Fall day.

His sister lives an box three blocks north, in the good section of town. Here is a picture of her day's supply of crack after she made herself available, wink wink!

She really likes Crack, one of her suitors gave a her a gift of a lifetime, Herpes.

But that was not enough, she was also given Pubic Lice. She loves the itch!

She just loves infectious diseases. She has frequented my abode multiple times to get rid of Scabies, but they keep coming back.

Finally. Once she was not given enough crack for her services. She decided to cap that person, open up his skull and allow flies to mate on the cerebral tissue. Here is a picture of the maggots that grew on the cheap-dude's brain.

I hope everyone enjoyed my photo album. I just love my family. They make me glow. More to come in the near future.

For now, OneDood...Done.

Driver's Education

Oh how I yearn for New York City. My stomach aches for pizza and real Italian food. My shoes long for missing the land mines, ie dog excrement, as I meander down the street. I am drawing a blank, there must be something else that I cannot experience in Red-neck-ville.

Now I am torturing myself. Not driving. That's right, I did not have to drive unless I had to unleash my road rage going to the hospital just outside the City. However, when in the Big Apple, I never had to drive. Taxis, buses and the Subway shuffled me around town. Unfortunately, in my newest locale, I have to drive and the drivers here are starting to piss me off.

Here is how this post is going to flow. Like usual, I am going to illustrate incompetence and then will offer a solution. Sit back, relax, grab a Fat Tire and enjoy. I know the post is missing Maggots and Pelvic Inflammatory Disease, but that is for another day.

Entering a Road

This is a simple task. Put on your turn signal, look both ways, if no-one is close, just pull out and start moving. This seems quite simple. I think not. I am sick and tired of the dimwit who makes a right with a red signal and then enters my lane as I briskly approach. Listen goober, I have the right of way. My light is green, this means go. Do not pull out in front of me when I am moving 50 mph. Better yet, do not enter the road, nearly kill me by cutting me off, then travel 10 miles per hour under the speed limit. If you are in such a hurry, and insist on testing my ability to avoid a collision, floor it after you turn.

I was driving home the other night on a one-lane road (in each direction). Some knuckle-brain decided to pull out right in front of me. I was going straight, had the right of way, yet he was too stupid to figure that out. He pulled out, I hit my brake and then turned on my brights. I decided to leave them on for a while. I figured,

"If you are going to piss me off, then I am going give it right back."

Typical. He drives 10 miles an hour under the speed limit. Following idiot, we finally both turn onto a road with two lanes. He then stomps on the pedal, but I have a V8. I am stronger and bigger. I pass terd-brain. He then moves behind me, starts flashing his brights and proceeds to beep incessantly. Listen moron, you are the one that started this imbroglio. If you just stayed out of my way, you would not have had me sniffing your rectum the entire ride to your shack down by the river. Learn how to drive and your experiences will be much more pleasant.

To all of your brethren out there, look both ways before you attempt to turn. This is Drivers Ed, 101.

Stop Enjoying the Scenery

Listen putz, if you are driving on a one lane road, pay attention to the speed limit and your surroundings. Occasionally, gaze at your rear-view mirror. If there are 10 cars in your wake and no one in front, you are traveling too slowly. I will pass you, mark my words. When I drive, I drive for a purpose, and so should you. If you want to enjoy the topography, let someone competent drive your Pinto. I am not in the mood for your ineptness.

Hear me now and listen to me later. When I pass you, do not speed up. Do not flick me the bird. Here is how it works. You are unperceptive, I am not. I need to get to where I am going. You cannot drive. I am not passing you in attempt to teach you how to pilot your Nova, that is a lost cause. However, when you realize you are retarding a dozen cars from getting to their destination in a timely matter, do not try to rectify the situation. You are too late and we all know of your inadequacies.

Show me the Bird

I grew up driving on the East, or Right, Coast. There, should two drivers have a difference of opinion on the rules of the road, show-and-tell time begins. One driver will show his middle finger and tell the other what he thinks of him. Then the other driver will disclose his third finger and insult the first driver's mother. That's all good, they move on. This is a typical day of driving in Jersey.

Not where I live. Some moron in a truck cut me off a when I first moved to Town of Red. I was not about to back down. Listen, I am from Jersey, some Red-Neck in a delivery truck is not going to get the best of me. I drive a V8, remember, I can move. Well, I pull up along side of said moron as we approach a red light. I decide to demonstrate to Red the shape of my middle finger, without showing the other four, and pass him. Listen, I had the right of way, it was mine. We both come to stop at the light, he behind me. I bet you all can guess what happened next.

I look in my rear-view mirror and see fat Red getting out of his truck. He then starts running at me.

"Oh no."

I think, more like...

"f*&#, this guy is going to hurt me. "

I hit my gas, pull into a right turn lane and thankfully, the light turns green. I am able to illegally pass the cars in front and get away from Red. Not so fast. I glance at my rear-view mirror again and he is now following me in his truck, right on top of me. I am not happy. All I did was show him a finger, no harm there. I slow down, so does Red. I speed up, so does Red. I see red waving his hand at me and speaking gently. I reach for my cell phone, I'll just call the police. Oh not again, I left my cell phone at home. Now what? I make a sharp turn onto a one lane road that tends to wind. Red is on my tail, he doesn't miss a beat. I am wondering how in the world is that delivery truck so agile, how does he keep up? I go around a few 90 degree turns, Red is right there. Now I am nervous. Then I think to myself, I am smarter than Red. I use my brain for a living and Red is told what to do. I am higher on the food chain, at least at that time, maybe not now and likely not in the future. But then and there, I was smarter. I hit the gas, turn onto a major road and find a police station on the left. I turn in, get out of my car and Red stops, yells uncontrollably at me then pulls away. After he is out of site, I move along, shaken but not stirred.

Here is my message to Red and his posse, learn to flip me back, it will be much easier on everyone.

With these messages, I have determined that should I now approve of one's driving ability. I will have the authority to suspend their license. No questions asked.

How about that?

Drive safely out there...I may be right behind you.

For now, OneDood....Done

Maggot Killing

If my sole reader knows how to kill a Maggot without enduring close contact, let me know. I detest flies and their larvae and would like to rid the world of those varmints. So would some of my patients, hint, hint.

Blame it on HIPPA, and fear of losing my job.

Enjoy Carl Spackler.

Pss....stay tuned for my next post.

For now...OneDood, done.

Reasons

I apologize for the prolonged hiatus. My medical posts would be so much better were I not so dependent upon my job. The job enables me and my family to have shelter, clothing and food...and beer. Grab a brew, smoke your cigarette, take a hit off your bong, sit back, relax and enjoy.

Instead of citing the countless reasons for which my services may be in need, I will review the opposite. Daily, I wish I could beat my head against the wall after bantering with my peeps regarding their trivial reasons for their visit. Let's not get the wrong idea here. Legitimate chest pain, abdominal pain, stroke symptoms, and the inability to remove a foreign object from one's rectum are all valid motives to frequent my ER. However, do not waste my time with the following:

Boredom

Hard to believe, yes, but it is true. The 25-year-old bipolar chick has absolutely nothing to do at 4:30 am, so she comes to visit bringing along her powers of persecution. She may say she has chest pain or abdominal pain. She may state she has the worst headache of her life. I know better. I am not stupid. I may not be shrewd, but biploar chick cannot delude me. She has no friends, her boyfriend just passed her herpes along to the next desperate fool, her family despises her, and she abhors her life. Misery loves company. BPC is bored, she is awake, has countless free time. She reckons...

"I want to make other people despondent, just like me. I wonder who is awake?"

A lightbulb flickers in her peabrain and she realizes those idiots that work in the ER are conscious at 4:30am. She fabricates a complaint that has potential to be life-threatening, then ruins my shift. I know she is out to get me.

Pregnancy Test

Yes, inconceivable. I have touched on this one to some degree in a previous post. However, the 19-year-old chick with three kids believes she may be impregnated by father number four. She uses her one remaining neuron, purchases a home pregnancy test, and then does not trust the result. She wants to go to the ER for verification. To make matters worse, she has no complaints. She is pain-free. Her cervix stopped dripping weeks ago. Potential father number four has not pummeled her in weeks and none of her friends are currently under my care. She has absolutely no reason to sign-in. Why should that stop her? She registers and wants a blood pregnancy test. Peeing on a stick was not enough. Listen dunderhead, the blood sample I take and send to the lab has the same hormone that your whiz contains. I am going to give you the same result. Wait, I know the answer, you just wanted a $2,000 pregnancy test. You want debt. Go home, tell father number 4 that he will now be a daddy for the 7th time.

Transportation

What do you mean? You do not understand? To my sole subscriber, read on. I have had plenty of patients that were "stuck" miles from their next destination. Not having money for a taxi, bus, or a rickshaw and not wanting to hitch-hike, free-ride-dude has an epiphany. Keep in mind, these people do not own cars.

"I'll call 911"

FRD dials the magic numbers, EMS arrives. FRD states his little toe on his right foot has been sore for three months, and wants to be "checked out." He is 20 miles from his next destination, can be seen at three other hospitals that are closer, but insists on coming to The House of God. He really does not want to come to my abode because we are more competent than the other hospitals. For he has a drug deal to complete a few blocks away and calling EMS was the fastest and most cost-effective route. What about the $450 bill for the taxi? No fear, he will never pay. Those that actually pay taxes will flip the bill.

Clothing and Salon Treatments

I'll be blunt. Do not come to my house and demand free clothing. I see your socks. Those socks with the rubber stoppers on the bottom came from the hospital down the street. I do not care if your current socks have holes and have not been washed in weeks. I refuse to peel off those scabies infected garments and replace them. I am also not going to give you scrubs. You are not a doctor, nurse, tech, etc. The only affiliation you have with the medical field is that you abuse me and my staff weekly. Go ahead ask for scrubs. I am going to give you paper ones, the kind you cannot wash; not that you would clean them anyway. Paper scrubs in no way can be comfortable to wear. What comes around goes around, I will now torture you, as you have done to my staff.

I work in a hospital. My nurses work in a hospital. Theme here? We will not wash your hair. Do not expect that we will bathe you (especially not me). I know you stink. I know you are not able to pick all the lice out of your own hair. I know you were too lazy to get off the couch and just peed your pants. I know you think I am a giant piece of toilet paper. For Halloween, I like to wrap myself in a roll of toilet paper. When one asks about my costume, I just tell them I am an Emergency Physician and wipe tushies for a living. I digress. Your family can de-lice and de-dirt your rancid body. Lack of hygiene is not a legitimate reason to frequent my domicile.

Work Excuse

So, you have had a cough for three weeks, who really cares? Do you really think I am going to buy that one? I know you were out snorting cocaine and imbibing O'E all night long. You are still sauced and high. Should your boss see you in your current condition, you would no longer be employed, right? I know all you want is a work excuse so you can take your lazy fundament back to bed. Get out of my ER and do not come back, I am not in the mood for your games.

I am sure I am missing some other examples, but for now, my venting is over. I feel much better. Hope all is well in everyone's world.

For now...OneDood Done.