At
the Office
Dr.
Jones entered the clinic through the back door and sat down at his desk. He pulled
up his schedule for the day and was glad it was pretty light. Only four
patients this morning. He did, however, wince when he saw the last name.
“Miss
Lane, I’m ready for my first patient,” he announced as he stuck his head out
into the hall. He looked at his schedule in the computer again. The first
patient was one week post op from an inguinal hernia repair.
Miss
Lane brought the patient to the exam room, took his vital signs and left
the
chart in the rack outside the door with her usual efficiency. Dr. Jones picked
up the chart and noted the vital signs:
BP:
400/220 HR: 36 RR: 12 Temp: 104
“How
are you feeling today, Mr. Superman? Having much pain since the surgery? Bowels
working OK?”
“Good
Morning, Doc,” Superman replied. “It’s still a bit sore. I’m not sure I’m ready
to get back to work yet. I think I need a couple of months off. Battling some
of these super villains can be pretty strenuous. I’ve signed out to Batman and
Spiderman. They both said I should take as much time as I need.”
“Well,
let’s see how everything looks,” Dr. Jones answered. He glanced at the chart
and saw it was a Workmen’s Comp case, while Superman pulled down his tight
shorts and exposed the surgical wound, which was clean, without swelling.
“Give
me a cough,” the doctor asked as he put his fingers against the inguinal area.
“Cough…cough,”
Superman complied.
“Looks
like it’s healing without problem. No hernia. I think you can be back to normal
routine in two weeks. Until then, no heavy lifting, nothing more than 5 tons.
And, try to limit your flying to the local area and if you’re going to be
deflecting any bullets, keep them away from your groin. I’ll see you back in
two weeks.”
“You
sure two weeks will be enough? It really hurts. I think I need longer.”
“Well,
we’ll see how you’re doing in a couple of weeks.”
“Can
I get a refill on my pain med, Doc?”
“OK,
OK.”
Dr.
Jones wrote out the prescription, Hydrocodone/APAP
10/325, 10-20 tabs po Q4h prn pain, #400.
“See
you next week; Miss Lane will make your appointment.”
Dr.
Jones picked up the chart for the next patient, I. Hulk, usually a patient of
Dr. Marvel, who was out of town. He took a quick glance, saw that the patient
had been started on Zoloft for depression and anger control issues.
“Hello,
Mr. Hulk, I’m Dr. Jones, Dr. Marvel is out of town.”
“Glad
to meet you Dr. Jones, I’m Dr. Banner.”
“Oh,
I’m sorry; the chart says Mr. Hulk was in this room.”
“That’s
me, Doctor. The Hulk is my alter ego. He only comes out when I’m angry. That’s
what I need to talk to you about. That medication Dr. Marvel gave me. It’s
working too well. The other day I saw a puppy tied to some railroad tracks. Some
teenagers put it there. Of course, I should have been angry and let the big
green monster handle the situation, But, I couldn’t muster even an ounce of
anger, not enough to turn my pinky toe green. Well, that puppy was run over and
those kids got away. I think I need to be on something else.”
Dr.
Jones read through some of the notes in the front of the chart:
The Incredible Hulk smashed more
than a dozen police cars during an angry rampage, sent three officers to the
hospital, destroyed several million dollars worth of public property, but did
apprehend a deadly, homicidal villain.
Similar
notes from the last five years were present.
The court decrees that I. Hulk receive
appropriate anger management counseling, a complete medical evaluation and
possible pharmacologic intervention. If he refuses he is to be incarcerated in
a specially constructed cell to keep the public safe from harm.
“I’m
sorry, Dr. Banner, my hands are tied. The court has rendered this decision and
I have no authority to change it.”
“Can’t
you lower the dose or something, or try a different med?”
His
voice sounded desperate and there was an edge that I didn’t like.
“I’m
sorry, Dr. Banner. Dr. Marvel will be back next week. I’d take it up with him.”
At
these words Dr. Banner became more agitated.
“Did
you take your Zoloft today, Dr. Banner?”
“I
ran out; I haven’t taken any for a few days,” Dr. Banner answered, his voice
getting louder.
“Well,
I’ll give you a new prescription,” Dr. Jones answered, quickly scribbling on
his pad. He looked up just in time to see I. Hulk in all his green glory. The huge,
green skinned mass of muscle snatched up the prescription and bounded away,
smashing through the wall.
“Miss
Lane,” Dr Jones calmly called out. “Could you call Maintenance, please. And, we’ll
need to close Exam room one.”
The
doctor shook his head. I wish these
superheroes would use the door, he thought as he picked up the chart
outside Room 3. He winced again as he saw the name “Zombie 332”.
“Good
morning, Zombie,” Dr. Jones did his best to be polite.
“ERh…Grr,”
Zombie replied.
Dr.
Jones tried not to gag as he sat down next to the mound of rotting flesh, which
was holding its right arm in a plastic bag. The zombie held up the bag and
gestured towards the empty spot at its right shoulder.
“Now,
Zombie, I told you last visit that even if I sewed your arm back on it probably
wouldn’t heal. It’s unfortunate, I know, but you are dead and dead tissue just
won’t heal. I don’t see the point in going through this every week.”
The
Zombie stood up in a threatening manner.
‘OK,
I’ll give it another try,” Dr. Jones answered. One thing he’d learned over the
years was never try to reason with Zombies, just do something and get them out
of the office.
“Miss
Lane,” he called out. “I need some number one Prolene on a big needle and some Dermabond,
actually, bring three or four.”
He
set to work, spreading a generous layer of Dermabond over the rotting flesh and
then doing his best to stitch the wayward arm back in its proper place.
“That
ought to do the trick. Let me see you back in three weeks, but come in sooner
if there’s any problem.”
“Grr…grr.”
“You
don’t need a prescription for pain med. You’re dead already, you don’t have any
nerve endings,” Dr. Jones answered, doing his best not to emulate Mr. Hulk. He quickly
ushered Zombie 332 out of the exam room.
“Miss
Lane, what happened to my last patient? Dr. Jones looked at the name, “C.
Dracula, severe sunburn.”
“He
cancelled, doctor. He’s in the hospital, admitted to Dr. Van Helsing.”
“That’s
great, I can leave early. Thanks for your help today, Miss Lane. It looks like
tomorrow is much busier. I hope Dr. Marvel gets back soon.”
