deconstruction

Something that drives me nuts, is that no one in my family -- aside from the tiny monsters -- ever asks me what I do for a living. I mean, they know I'm a doctor, of course. But they act like I work for the mob and it's impolite to ask too many questions.

So anyway, here's what I did last night on call:

1. Admitted a middle-aged paraplegic with a bladder infection and a funny-looking kidney. Threw antibiotics at her and asked Urology to see her in the morning.

2. Admitted a young woman with a bad pneumonia, getting worse despite oral antibiotics at home. What makes her interesting is that she's taking a immune-suppressing medicine for another medical condition - which means she might have something offbeat and cool, like TB or a lung fungus. Threw antibiotics at her, put her in respiratory isolation (quarantine) and asked Pulm and ID to see her in the morning.

3. Admitted a middle-aged woman who'd overdosed on muscle relaxants, hoping to cure a bad headache. Muscle relaxants don't usually help headaches. However, they do cause low blood pressure, slow heart rate and hallucinations when taken to excess. I tried to explain this to her but she was too busy hallucinating and clutching her head to pay attention.

4 and 5. Admitted twin strokes: two lively octogenarians who both came to the ER with sudden weakness. Threw antiplatelet medicine at them and asked Neurology to see them in the morning.

My God, is that really what I did all night? It sounds incredibly boring. Actually, it WAS incredibly boring. Huh. Maybe that's why my family doesn't ask any questions.