- Joined
- Aug 21, 2007
- Messages
- 7,863
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If your patients can't tell there is something different about you than everyone else they've spoken to during their admission to your ER, no garment is going to change that. My guess is that they can, you're just too snake bit to realize it...sorry 'bout that. I think you're going to be OK....
You're right.
I'm pretty snakebitten.
I'm seriously going to take time off early this year.
Like, 4-6 weeks.
I absolutely cannot handle the nonsense anymore.
From the 2 AM: "My baby have a FEVER! and She just come back from her baby-daddy-place! HE be GAVE her a FEVER!"
To the "I'm a BOOMER who can't tell you anything, but I want everything done for me. My wife will tell you everything (except she can't)."
But...
"I never saw a doctor."
I have been sent the message that I "don't look like a doctor", and therefore "cannot be a doctor" by 99% of the dumb@sses out there.
So, I won't be.
We'll see how that works out.
I don't live extravagantly.
95% of my clothes are from WalMart/Target.
I don't own a luxury car, a luxury watch, a luxury suit.
My TV is from 2009. Its all of like, 27 inches diagonal.
I don't really turn it on all that much.
I drive a 2014 Hyundai hatchback. Standard transmission.
A "good day off" for me is going to the park to juggle a soccer ball, then maybe hitting the driving range.
Then, its iced tea until the nightly hockey game comes on. Might catch a nap, first.
That life suits me just fine.
My best buddy works in a greenhouse back in State College, PA.
He raises Christmas trees, and some ornamentals. Nothing illegal, you millennials.
He manages the place. Makes around 70K a year.
He lives just fine.
Neither of us have kids that we need to save $300,000 dollars of tuition for.
Neither of us jet off to Bora Bora for a week because "why the hell not?!"
But the difference between he and I, is that he doesn't worry about needlestick exposures at 3:45AM.
He doesn't put in a chest tube in a flail chest in a BOOMER on Eliquis who has fallen off the toilet and worry about stopping the bleeding.
He doesn't walk into a room with a non-sick kid and is immediately overcome by marijuana smoke while daddy says "Eyy'yo, Can I gets a work note too?" - as he barely bothers to look up from the newest iPhone that I have better sense than to buy.
I made 357K last year. That's a lot of money.
I'll give most of it up, for a lot less stress.
This was seriously my last patient:
14 year old hispanic female. Perfect hemicrania migraine. Conjunctival injection. Everything that Osler wrote about.
"I can help you."
10 mg Decadron.
15 mg Toradol.
10 mg Reglan.
The girl looks at me like I was Jesus Christ after she felt better.
BUT!
Mommy is already on the phone, screaming at whoever will listen.
"Esss un MIGRAINE ! El doctor DICE que ya-ta-ta-ta-ta-TA-ta-ta.",
I stopped her. I seriously said: "STOP!"
I actually didn't "dice que" anything. But; because you love drama, you've already got your pre-written script that you're going to scream to the abuelita on the other end of the phone.
She stopped. Mouth open. Cellphone next to it. Fat face staring back at me. Stupified. Hand didn't move from her ear, because that's the fixed position that its in for so many people.
Silence.
"Hang up. CUELGATE."
I seriously did not say a single thing about the child's condition, prognosis, anything.
Yet. Mommy is already creating a telenovela about her child's headache visit to the ER.
I can't with these people. This is 90% of my day.
AYYYYEEEE-ya-ta-ta-ta-ta-TAAA-teee!