You may recall my delight at marijuana legalization, correct? Because, “medical marijuana” wasn’t ENOUGH of a cluster f*&k, right? Of course, there is my recurrent delight at the discretion, great judgment, and common courtesy displayed by the genuii who stroll (nay, stumble) about, reefer fumes pouring from every fold of their clothing, if not every pore, in a nigh overpowering display of Poor Life Choices On Parade.
So, TINS©, TIWFDASL© when this braniac arrived, spawn in tow. My poor clerk registered the Named Patient (actually, plural, as in both kids), and then let me know that the chart was ready for me to lay some healing upon them. As if.
So, my first clue that Things Were Not Right, was when the nominally 3 year old child, named Adam, was sitting upright reading some (non picture) book. My second clue was that the nominally 12 year old child, was around 36 inches tall, and appeared to be around 40 pounds. And, did NOT appear critically malnourished.
I asked the reading child, “Please, tell me how old you are?”
The reply was “I’m 12!”
“How old is your brother?”
“Oh, he’s 3!”
I excused myself, and asked my clerk, “Did you know that Adam is 12, and Brady is 3?”
She looked at me, and informed me, “I asked the mother, and asked her twice, which child was which, and who had what birthday. It did not look right to me, but she repeated herself, same birthday both times, for each child. That is what I put down.”
“Well, it is wrong. Please, fix it, and double check it, all over again. Please try to sort out what else she fucked up in registering the kids, please.”
Once the clerk asked the 12 year old for his school id, the mystery was resolved.
My new Life Rule! If you are so stoned that you cannot remember your own gorramned childrens’ birthdays, and you successfully mix the TWO of them up, either stay the Fenomenon home, or WRITE IT DOWN!
Have you heard about Homeopathic Medicine?
“What Is Homeopathy?“
“Homeopathy, also known as homeopathic medicine, is a medical system that was developed in Germany more than 200 years ago. It’s based on two unconventional theories:
*“Like cures like”—the notion that a disease can be cured by a substance that produces similar symptoms in healthy people
*“Law of minimum dose”—the notion that the lower the dose of the medication, the greater its effectiveness. Many homeopathic products are so diluted that no molecules of the original substance remain.
Let’s keep “The Law Of Minimum Dose” in mind for a moment. So, I work in an urgent care clinic in The Un-Named Flyover State. It’s….quirky. Yeah, let’s go with that. So, our cleaners are some folks who are NOT from some national housekeeping chain. I do not know where the owners hired these folks from, but, well, they are, in keeping with the theme of the organization, quirky themselves.
Over the past several weeks, I have been noticing that the hand soap dispensed from pump bottles, has been appearing clearer, and clearer. Similarly, it has seemed less viscous, and less viscous, from week to week.
In keeping with these observations, it has started to require more and more pumps to elicit enough soap to, ya know, WASH MY HANDS!
One of the MA s clued me in to what is happening.
“The cleaners never pour more soap into the dispensers, they just add water. It’s free, unlike the soap that costs.”
I wondered, out loud, “What happens when it is simply only water in the “soap” dispenser?”
She told me, “I dunno, maybe, finally, they’ll buy more soap?”
I corrected her. “NOPE! We will be told, that this is the latest public health innovation! Homeopathic soap!”
A long time ago, in a county far, far away, I was working as an ER nurse. I overheard one of the clerks engaged in a telephone call.
Now in this agency, at that time, Administration did not want us providing “medical advice” over the phone. I was on board. My stock spiel, when I was trapped into answering some such call, was along the lines of “If you think you have an emergency, you ought to come to the emergency department. If you do not think that you have an emergency, perhaps your problem could wait until (the morning)(Monday), at which time you could arrange for your family doctor to address it. If you do not think that your problem can wait until (the morning)(Monday), well, at this time of night, your only option is to come in to emergency.”
I, myself, often would be the recipient of some query at that point, along the lines of “Well, how do I know if it is an emergency/can wait until Monday?”
My answer would be “You are there, you have sense (Yeah, I was lying through my teeth!), and only you can make that determination. I am not there, and I cannot see what you can see, since you are on the scene, and I am not.”
So, I heard the clerk speaking to some Brain Truster. Attempting to explain, repeatedly, how and why she could not tell him whether his laceration needed stitching. Mr. Telephone was persistent, and I could tell, from my clerk’s responses to him, that he was saying stuff like “Well it’s (insert length here) long, and about (insert depth here) deep, and it’s (insert some indicator of severity, like bleeding or suchlike here), so why can’t you tell me if it needs to be stitched?”
She finally had had her fill of his idiocy. “Sir, what color blouse am I wearing?”
“How the hell would I know what color blouse you are wearing?”
“So, how am I supposed to have any opinion worth anything about your cut?”