Letter#1
Dear Sleep,
     Hey again, it’s me.  I know you’ve probably been busy, hanging out with a bunch of other people, but I was just hoping that you and I could get together again soon.  I know my daughter has really cramped our “hanging out” time, but hopefully you can come over, maybe just for 4-5 hours?  I think my wife misses you more than I do!

    Hope to see you soon!  Seriously!  Really really really!!! Please!!!!! 
-Slicy

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Letter #2

Dear intestines
    Hey down there, just a quick note.
    I know you guys are busy and working hard, but is there any way you could not create massive amounts of toxic-incapacitating levels of noxious gas while I’m at work?  My co-workers keep wondering why I only pick up patients that are in the ER for “intestinal trouble,” but I have to cover it somehow.
-Slicy

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Letter#3

Dear Coffee,
   Voot voot voot!  You’re better than sleep so much better so much better woot woot woot!  Maybe not when you wear off but that doesn’t seem to be a problem as long as I drink more and sometimes I think it might catch up to me and thena lsdkfjalk;jasd l;jknl; zzzzzz

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Letter#4

Dear Nose,
   Any way you could stop functioning while I’m changing Sam’s diaper?  Seriously, I get it.  I get the joke.  Yes, she is super small, yet makes tiny dumps that can kill a buffalo.  I also get the irony that she’s my daughter.  Ha ha.  For your convenience I have attached Letter#2, which I also forwarded to Sam’s GI system as well. 
    Thanks,
-Slicy

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Letter #5
     Dear Reproductive organs…

How YOU doin?

-slicy

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Letter #6
     Dear feet,
This is a letter of apology.  I know that there are about 234,983 different small toys that my daughter leaves on the floor.  Most of them are pointy.  I know I should turn on the light to look for them before going to bed.  Sigh, I know, my bad.  I know I’ve said I’ll never do it again before, we both know this is a lie. 
    I’m sorry,
-slicy

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Letter #7
   Dear ears,
I know, I know, I know.  “The Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree” sucks.  Listen, Sam loves the song.  You better just get used to it, cause we’re going to listen to it a lot.  You want me to mix it up?  huh?  You sure?  I have Head Shoulders Knees and Toes right here as well, and I’m not afraid to put that CD in. 

Don’t worry, in 8 short years we can get back to listening to crappy techno, I still have the files I loaded to my xanga account, don’t you worry.
-slicy

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Letter #8
    Dear brain,
Hi there!  You’re doing great!  Good job!  Um, is there any way you could pump out some extra endorphins since you are so awesome and cool and wuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrgggggg…. ttttthhhhhhhaaaaaaannnnnnnnnxxxxxxxxx…

I really do love the other docs I work with in the ER.  Except Tom, he leaves crazy bait.

I am becoming more and more suspicious that right before my shift, my partners are leaving out steaming hot piles of “crazy bait.”  I don’t really know what crazy bait is made of, but I do know it works.  I think it is made of one part schizophrenia, one part full moon, and a heaping pile of alcohol.  You add a dash of non-compliance and stir in generous dash of stupid, and there you have it… Crazy bait.

This bait works.  It works well. 

“Examples!  We want examples!” I can hear you say through your foamy-mouthed cheezy-fingered caffeine-induced frenzy.  Not a problem.

<the following have been edited… slightly, to protect the stupid (er, I mean innocent)>

1.  Love: A guy gets in an argument with his wife.  They fight for a while, and like any good married couple, they decide to go after each other with screw drivers.  She manages to stab him in his side with a screw driver.  Then they have dinner.  He’s still bleeding.  Then (still bleeding) he decides to drive his wife to her mothers house.  In transit, they get in another argument.  She gets angry about argument #2 and at a stoplight pulls out the keys of  the car (he’s driving) and runs away.  He’s now stranded, bleeding at a stoplight in a car without keys.  Thus, comes to the ER by ambulance.

2.  Critter: Cute 6 year old boy sees a tragedy.  A cat caught a small possum and was chewing on the creatures face and back for a little while.  Acting as a hero he rescues the dying creature from the cat and tries to help the injured animal.  He gets bit.  So now what is the logical next step?  Come to the ER to get checked out… and bring the nearly dead pissed off animal with you of course!  Child=fine.  Creature=not going to make it.  Now what do you do?  It wouldn’t fit into the sharps drawer either…

3.  Wizard:  40 year old guy (though he looks about 80) comes in brought in by “friend.”  Apparently his friend could not wake him up for two hours so he brought him to the ER.  I find this shocking since we can’t get this guy to shut up.  He is screaming at the top of his lungs that he’s a math wizard and everyone’s an idiot but him.  Did I mention he drinks seven or eight 40oz beers a day.  A DAY.  Let me help you with the quick math… one gallon is 128 oz.  he drinks 280-320 oz of beer a day.  That’s at least two gallons of beer a day.  Then he started screaming WHAT’S THE SQUARE ROOT OF 37!  YOU DON’T KNOW!  I admitted I didn’t know.  Then he wanted to fight everyone and stood up to attack.  That was the part of the show where he got put in restraints and was given happy juice to prevent him from attacking everyone in the ER.  If only I would have known it was 6.08276

4.  Bad-ass biker guy with tatoos who just happens to be wearing pink lacy underwear.  No explanation needed.

5.  I’m good here.  A normal (seeming) lady who had just come from the bathroom who said she couldn’t go.  So, about 3 minutes later said she feels more relaxed.  Thus she decided to just pee all over the bed and herself.  Is that weird?  I think that’s weird.  Also weird is not mentioning the fact that she just pissed all over herself for about an hour then acting like it’s no big deal.

So I’m not sure which of my partners is leaving out the crazy bait (Tom, I’m looking at you) before my shifts, but it seems to be working.  I suppose honorable mention could go to the guy who took an ax to the face, but actually that guy was really nice. 

I love my job. 
 

13 months.  Wow, it seems like just yesterday when my wife and I took home this tiny little creature that could do nothing but poop, cry and hog my wife’s boobs.

Now, after 13 months and non-stop attention and adoration, she can poop, cry, drink milk, and fart right on top of her daddy’s head.  I wish that was a joke, but actually, yesterday, she was flopping on top of her big dog-pillow and landed right next to me and farted on me.  Then she giggled.  Yeah, it’s my daughter for sure.

So I have realized three facts about my daughter.

1.  She absolutely LOVES to climb up stairs.  I might be cleaning dishes for a quick minute, but if I don’t watch her she will teleport (nightcrawler-esque) to the top of the stairs. 

2.  She has no fear.  She might be bouncing on the ground, or on the top of a 100 story building, it’s all the same to her.  Giant scary barking dog?  Nah, no big deal.  Huge scary ugly bug?  Nah, it’s cool.  No fear.

3.  She has no concept of gravity, at all.  On more than one occasion I have been watching her.  Her current method of getting off any high up location is the fall.  She just leans forward and allows her body to plummet.  Top of the stairs?  Sure, no problem.  On top of tables, chairs, ladders, high-wire act, it’s all the same to her.  Just go limp and you’ll get to the bottom quick as can be.

These three facts have transformed my title.  I changed from “dad” to that of a “spotter” for an extremely mentally retarded clumsy gymnast.  Run-run-run-run SPLAT, right on the wood floor.  I’m not sure which molecule of air triggered the fall, but you’d better be there. 

 
Samantha’s future… if she were a boy… is that a boy?

Rumors are like making home-made cotton candy.

First you start with something small and relatively innocent.  Then you swirl it around and around and it starts getting bigger and bigger.  Pretty soon you have a gigantic pink fluffy ball of nastiness and nightmares that covers your floor and sticks to your shoes no matter how many times you try to wash it off before your wife gets home.

Ok, maybe their not exactly like cotton candy, but you get the idea.

 (Some random nurse, she’s comfortable with who she is (post-op))

One of the nurses I work with totally shared her secret with me.  I don’t want to tell names, but she really is a great nurse, and she works hard.  I’ve scrambled her picture above so no one would ever be able to identify her.  Now as I’m sure you all know by now, I am married with a child.  Also, I am a giant dork-nerd-geek (we prefer the title dornegek (DOR-NAH-GEK)).  Thus, I love Star Wars.  In idle conversation today one of the techs was talking about the scene where Princess Leia strangles Jabba the Hutt in her dirty little slave outfit.  Yeah, that scene. 

Don’t get me wrong, that scene is sweet, because Jabba is all “Aaaaackaaaaaagllalaaar” and Princess Leia is all “Hnnggg you stupid fat lump of crap take this!” and then he dies.  Cool.

But then I heard a funny sentence that I normally don’t hear in the ER very often.

“I need dilaudid!”

Oh, wait, no, sorry, I hear that all the time.  What I actually heard was:

“Oh my gosh, I need to be a lesbian right now.”

This sentence affects people differently.

For lesbian women:
From what I understand it is a consensual mutual arrangement of similar thinking women who happen to prefer other women to men.  A shared sexual preference seen in up to 10% of the global community.

For heterosexual women:
This sentence is just a joke about how Carrie Fischer as Princess Leia was a really tough girl who overcame a brutal slug-beast while she was in a slutty costume.  haha, wow, what a tough chick.

For guys:
That sentence shuts down normal brain function.  All we can do is keep the 0.2% of our brains that allows us to  breathe functioning while we think about two hot women making out. 

But anyways, my post-op transgender friend did take it all in stride and she actually thought princess Leia was pretty hot in that scene as well, so all went well.  Now if only I could remember why I titled this blog about starting rumors. 

Oh, here’s some more Starwars pics.  Maybe I spent several hours searching for funny Starwars pics.  Or maybe I had them already on my computer and it took 2 seconds… hmmm… maybe you need to read the part about me being a dornegek again before you guess.

 

 

 

I’m comfortable with my inner nerd… also with trying to make a post about transgender and Starwars.

Are you?

My daughter has recently fallen in love… with water.

This actually makes me quite happy.  Two weeks ago, if she even got her toes wet she would look up with the bottom lip quivering and wanted to be picked up.  Now, she loves it.  A trip to Florida and the ocean has changed her into a water-baby.  Bath time has been transformed into crazy squealing splash the parents time.  Pretty cool.  Also, as far as I know, she is yet to do the aqua-dump.  She might have peed in the bath, I can’t tell, but I can’t fault her for that, since I do it all the time.  Don’t judge me.

Anywho, I learned of a recent occurrence from my brother Yo-yo.  He had been visiting his friends and they were all in the jacuzzi together.  This also included his 2 daughters and the friends son and daughter (none of the kids above 5 years of age).  It was just past sunset, so they had a few beers and had a great time just relaxing.  Then, after they got out and turned on the lights, they realized something.

Someone (and I’m not saying it wasn’t my brother) had magically changed the color of the jacuzzi from blue to muddy-brown/green. 

One of those days…

Needless to say there were several long showers after that happened.  Just the thought of it makes me puke a little in my mouth.  Though it did remind me of this from youtube (not safe for work… or viewing by anyone who has just eaten).

On the bright, sparkling clean side, she did just turn one (the day before Easter), which is cool.  Here’s her pic with the happy Easter bunny.

Ok, actually that’s not my daughter.

But she did turn one, and amazes me daily by how fast she is learning.  She played “catch” with me today.  Sigh, it won’t be long now till she’s able to fetch me beer.  Kids this age are just magic sponges able to learn stuff insanely fast.  Oh, that reminds me of another pic I found.  We don’t have one of those Cozy coups (the red egg-mobile) that every kid seems to have.  However, I hope to find out where to get this one.  I want her to be the only one on the block with a car like this .

She seems so happy.

Kids, they grow up so fast…

Hey, I asked for a Blue Moon, not a Bud lite!

 

I recently went on a road trip, more on that to come.

When I was a small child, my brother and I would often listen to his wide assortment of Bill Cosby tapes before going to bed.  I knew them all by heart.  Buck-buck, Noah, Dad is great, all of them.  One of my fondest memories was listening to this fantastic stand-up comedy before I fell asleep.

Though, shortly after falling asleep to these tapes my brother would wake me up since he talks in his sleep.  Now I love my brother dearly.  However, his sleep-talking would vary from the creepy to the out right hilarious.  He often would only say one or two words, but sometimes he would have entire conversations.  I don’t know who he was talking to in his dream world, but it was freaking funny.  The problem was, sometimes I really didn’t know if he was talking to me or just talking in his sleep.  I would often try to talk with him while he did this, the conversations usually went something like this.

Joel “You know, when you took the rickshaw to jabber jabber, I never flew over it.”
Me: “Um, yeeeeah.  So what are you talking about?”
Joel: “You never saw a Popsicle house in the chicken yard?  Gruel in your shoes made pickles better, you know?”
Me:  “Ah your talking in your sleep, gotcha.”
Joel:  “Gotcha gotcha like a rabbit dunking donuts yelling with the purple.  Your necktie doesn’t drink the goose, does it?”
Me: “No, Joel, I’m afraid it doesn’t”
Joel: “CHICKEN POT PIE!”

I had new nighttime bonding with my brother-in-law.  I just spent 21 hours in a minivan.  In transit, my brother-in-law mentioned that he wanted to listen to Bill Cosby.  The nighttime Cosby piqued my interest and I could hardly wait for his driving shift to begin.  It started at 9pm.  It continued through the following day at 9am.  Twelve hours through the night.  Bill Cosby helped us endure being awake for over 24 hours.

Though we really bonded quite well.  Staying awake through the night with anyone can really create a good bond.  We talked about:
-Bill Cosby,
-health care,
-food,
-anarchy,
-children,
-video games,
-politics
-chemistry,
-books,
and more.

A sleepless night of talk can really bond two guys.

We’ve only made love twice, but it was fantastic.

Wait, that last part was not quite accurate.  My wife has done about 239742 road trips.  I think this is my second.  Now she’s all excited for me to do more.  Our conversation went like this:

Me:  Whew, that was 21 hours of suck, huh?
Her: Well, we’re here now, isn’t this great.  The ride was half the fun, right?
Me: Um, you were sleeping at 3am, well, for most of the time, but Samantha woke up every hour crying.
Her: Nah, it wasn’t too bad
Me: Periwinkle jello doesn’t make a porcupine drunk by Christmas
Her: What?
Me: CHICKEN POT PIE!

I don’t think that I will ever really be a road trip type of guy, but at least now I know I can do it if I have to. 

I guess that I do have to mention that I didn’t mention that of the 21 hours of driving I drove for a total of, um, well, 0 hours.  Yeah, I know, that’s pretty weak, but I kept Randy up all night (joke averted), so that’s something.

Anyways, here’s some Bill Cosby:
ENJOY

Kari had had the feeling before, but each time the blessed event occurred the pain always shocked her.

The fullness, the pressure, the pain, sheer terrible pain. 

Oh, she knew it all too well, she had been through this several times before, but each time seemed worse than the last.  Another wave of nausea and pain poured through her like a raging river of fire.  She pushed.  She pushed and pushed but nothing seemed to happen.  She could feel the slighted change down below, but still she wished it could just come out already.

She could not help yelping in discomfort.

“You doing alright, sweetie?” said her husband.  She grunted something unintelligible.

Slowly, tiniest bit by tiniest bit, she felt it coming.  She was nearly crying with a mixture of relief and pain as it came out.  The giant crap that had been in her colon was released, and her battle versus constipation was won.

Yeah.  Poop.

Sometimes I think we need to just put ex-lax in the water supply, cause I see so many people overly constipated.  It is at times like that I am glad that pooping is one of my super-powers.

Either way, I’m not sure if pooping is nearly as gross as giving birth.

Have you ever seen anyone give birth?  Which do you think is grosser?

I really feel for parents who have children with allergies.

Peanut allergies, asthma, shellfish allergies… all of them can be deadly and dangerous. 

I am happy to report that as far as I know, my child does not have any of these allergies.  However, it seems that she has been gradually developing a new allergy.  I have accidentally tried putting this to the test, because I don’t see any way to avoid it.  But, like I said before, I think there are much worse ones out there, so I’ll play the hand I’m dealt.

In fact, I think only part of my daughter is allergic.

You see, I think her urethra is allergic to air.  I’m not sure how this works… but lately it seems that as soon as I take a diaper off of her… she starts peeing.  I also think that she can instantly materialize pee into an empty bladder.  I’m not sure how, but she can do it.  It does not seem to cause any pain nor discomfort.  In fact, she seems to enjoy peeing (she takes after her dad).  But… the second that I take that diaper off… weeeeeee time to piss. 

Usually on me.

Can anyone tell me what game this is?  I need it.

   I realize that it has been several entries since I needlessly plugged my own awesomeness.  Also, it has been several entries since I talked at length about poop.  I am sorry.  Let me remedy that. 

I have a new superpower… occasional new-product genius.  Seriously, this is a multimillion dollar idea.  You heard it here first folks.  Please just give me a small cut, 2% will be enough for me

For those of you not in the medical field, let me explain something.  Some people use medications for reasons other than there intended use.  I know, it’s shocking.  Let me give you a not-so-classic example.

I had a very nice patient who took some herbal supplement guaranteed to alter part his anatomy for the better.  I don’t remember the name of the product specifically, but it was something like “ThrusTastic 2000X” or “Mega-wang X69″ or “Bulge-o-rific 889X.”   I do know it had some numbers and X in it.  I’m not sure why, but that just makes products better.  Needless to say, overdosing on “Donkey-Dong 44X” really did not have the desired effect, and instead of a fun evening with the wife, he spent most of the night thinking he was some sort of spastic dragonfly doing wind sprints in his own hallways with way too much energy and a raging hard-on he couldn’t get rid of…

Now let me give you the classic example.  Unfortunately, we see this on a regular basis.

Mr. X comes in with any one of any of a number of problems… toothache, back pain, headache etc.  He comes in around 3am, and he’s drunk.  He is allergic to Tylenol, Advil, Aspirin, all non-narcotic medicine, wind, the direction East, employment, and accountability (see_here, it’s a remix, and it rules). He says he normally gets prescriptions for Extra-strength Vicodin, 2000 tablets, with 20 refills, but, darn-it-all, he just lost his prescription.  Then he asks “can you just give me my script for Vicodin and I’ll be on my way, doc?”

One patient returned to the ER after their prescription for vicodin ran out.  They also “ran out” of medicine for their infection.  They then stated they had only enough money for the vicodin, not enough for the antibiotics.  Here is where this argument fails… the antibiotic is FREE!  Vicodin costs money but this antibiotic cost NOTHING. ZIP.  ZERO.

Similarly, I have patients who will not fill their prescription for high blood pressure, high cholesterol, or their diabetic medication, but they always fill their vicodin.

The solution? 

Like most inventions, the genius is in its simplicity.

I give you…Vico-trol. 

Yes it is a mixed medication, half vicodin, half… anything.  Vicocillen will be vicodin with antibiotics in it for your urinary tract infection.  Vicodolol will be for your high blood pressure.  Vicodistatin will treat your high cholesterol.  Vicoformin for your diabetes.  Heck, even the poor guy who wanted the hard-on could take Vicoviagra.

Now those of you who know about Vicodin might be worried.  What about constipation?  Well, the solution is there as well.  Vicofiber!  Or Vicolax!  So beautiful.  The most pain free crap you’ve ever had!  Heck, you could make it into powder form and have Metamucodin.

Sweet mercy I’m a friggin’ genius.  I suppose the only nongenius thing here is that I have not patented this idea.  I guess I’ll just file that under my altruism. 

Ok, I need an ice pack for my arm.  It’s sore from patting myself on the back so hard… wait, instead of the ice-pack, I think I’ll take an Ice-odin.  Aah, that’s better.  Here’s stuff I found on Google.

“Why do Vicodin fall down the bathroom sink and
  other medications don’t?”

This is Grimace eating a child. 
Not related to post.  Just hilarious.

I try not to worry.  I know that worrying really accomplishes nothing, but sometimes it seems almost human nature to be preoccupied with thoughts about the “what ifs.”

I worried about becoming a father.  I knew in my heart I would be up for the task, but I needed some reassurance.  Fortunately, as predictable as urinary incontinence on Friday night from our regular drunks, that reassurance came from the ER.

First, an aside.  Steven King wrote a book called On Writing.  In this book, he encouraged all people who wanted to write to read, read, and read some more.  In doing so, you would not only become aware of the skill of published authors out there, but also encouraged by the deluge of crappy ones as well.  Horrible writers are everywhere, just start reading a lot and you will surely find them.  Hey, you found one right now!

Ahem, back to the story.

So in the ER parents bring in their children with great regularity.  Many children have a viral syndromes.

Not that big of a deal, I would rather parents come to the ER if they have concerns.

But… um… I kind of wish I did not have to see their parenting skills.  Example one, parents with 5 month old child who is short of breath.  Both parents smoked.  Constantly.  I’m not sure if that bothered me as much as the fact that the Child had two fistfuls of Doritos in hand.  Doritos.  5 months.  Doritos.  5 months.  I mean at least grind it into small bits and mix it with breast milk.  Then, please stop blowing smoke in your baby’s face, at least until it catches its breath.

 

Though I think watching mom in the room with her little 11 month old upset me more.  She sat on the bed and watched TV while the small child crawled all over the ER floor with bare feet and got into everything.  I WORK in the ER and I try never to touch the floor even with my shoes.  Name a bodily fluid, ANY bodily fluid, and it has been on the floor in the ER.  Gross.  I have learned to levitate from room to room as much as possible, but mom just watched as jr. happily became coated with every disease he could possibly find.  Yes, we tried to educate mom.  “Hey!  That’s gross, don’t let him do that on the floor!”  But, to her credit, Police Academy 4 was on Comedy Central and she had only seen it three times before.

Oh, and don’t get me started on the 17 year-old that was on her 4th pregnancy.  Yes, I understand that anyone can become pregnant in their teens.  But… you know, after the first or maybe second time, you think they would catch on to how the baby got there in the first place.  Though I did meet a 22 year old on her 8th pregnancy.  Say what you will about abortion, it shouldn’t be a method of birth control time and time and time again.  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be happy for her or to cry.
 

So, I figure if parents can come from such a wide variety of backgrounds… well then, to heck with it, I’ll manage to raise a some-what well adjusted member of society.

Now how old does your child have to be before you can tell them to get you beer?