And garage doors.
Not sure why the brick hasn’t gone up yet.
We have reason to believe that painting will begin inside today.
Now with a driveway.
Inside, the trim is virtually complete, and boy does it dress the place up! It’s still very white (which it will be for the first year or so; wait for the nail pops before painting is conventional wisdom) but oh so elegant. Seven weeks to closing, but with the final walk through a week before that.
Starting to get excited.
That’s meatloaf with veggies (almost more veggies than meat.) Not meat-free.
Saute chopped onions and celery in olive oil about 3 minutes until soft. Toss in mushrooms and saute another 2-3 minutes. In large bowl combine turkey, cooked veggies, corn, egg, BBQ sauce, salt and pepper to taste. Add panko, stirring just until mixture holds together. Turn into loaf pan and top with more BBQ sauce. Bake at 350 degrees 35-40 minutes.
Once again, I am in receipt of a letter from a specialist (a surgical subspecialty, of course) that has me alternately shaking my head in disbelief and trembling with fury.
The letter was clearly crafted with electronic medical record software to support billing as high a level office visit as possible. In addition to a complete specialty-specific organ system examination, a “Multi-System Physical Examination” was also documented:
This is verbatim, by the way.
If I saw this from a medical student, it would be a big fat fail. Oh, there are plenty of bullet points, and they’re arranged in enough lines to pass the billing clerk’s checklist. But it basically says next to nothing.
The really interesting thing about this writeup is that although the patient is being seen for an unrelated problem, it completely fails to convey that she is actually a heart-lung transplant candidate. This surgeon probably doesn’t even own a stethoscope anymore, because anywhere you’d care to put one on this patient’s chest reveals findings that are anything but normal. She’s missing a lobe of one lung, and her heart swishes and hums more than it lubs and dubs. Frankly, I doubt the specialist even realized there was anything wrong.
More proof, as if it were needed, that EMRs document for billing instead of medical care.
Daughter of a friend turns 7. Proud mama posts pic, with apologetic self-flagellation about having “given in to princess dressing.”
Question: What do you think mothers in the ’50s and ’60s would have done if they’d had things like Facebook, Twitter, and the Internet?
I thought the whole idea behind raising girls (and boys, for that matter) was teaching them that it’s what’s inside that counts. Wasn’t there something about not judging a book by its cover? I understand that there’s still this pesky thing called “the outside world” populated by the ubiquitous “other people”, where external pressures and snap judgments are rampant. But isn’t the whole idea of parenting to instill that internal sense of Okay-ness that allows the child’s genuine self to shine through, however clothed?
I’m not talking about appropriateness. Certain venues call for certain modes of dress, which young children are not equipped to accurately judge. Party dresses aren’t worn to school, and jeans shouldn’t be worn to church. But if there are other times when kids are offered the choice of what to wear, the least we can do is respect those choices.
What’s the difference between telling a girl, “Oh no! Not a princess dress!” and “Oh no! That’s what boys wear!” Don’t both statements have the effect of devaluing the girl’s choice?
I have another friend whose daughter used to put together the funkiest outfits for school. The kid was a hippie whose mother had worn Catholic school uniforms. Teh horror! Bottom line: so what? Advice was given (and taken) to choose one’s battles, and the kid ended up a lawyer.
I understand that “society” (the collective version of “other people”) is doing terrible things to girls (and women): hypersexualizing them, objectifying their bodies, devaluing them as thinking, feeling, inherently worthwhile beings with a right to, well, themselves. I agree that it’s a fight that needs to be fought.
But it’s still okay for a seven-year-old to dress up like a princess from time to time.
What kind of a masochist am I? Sticking my head back into the
lion’s den snake pit and taking on the gun nuts again. Not the responsible gun owners, though. It turns out there really are such people, and apparently they actually outnumber their more vociferous crazy-heads compatriots. Nevertheless…
In medicine, we try to use scientific research whenever we can. Research is more than just someone saying something is so because they believe it to be so (see: Acupuncture). There are objective rules and standards by which people other than those doing the research can feel confident of the accuracy of the findings.
Every now and then, someone comes up with a research result significantly different from previous studies. (See: Galileo) Often this kind of result appears to make no sense at all, as it may be the complete opposite of the currently understood state of the issue. What to we do with this kind of confounding information?
First off, we try to replicate it. If the new findings are in fact true (that is to say, scientifically accurate) then properly done studies will have similar results. We call this “confirmation.”
What happens when studies fail to replicate the odd finding? The next step is to figure out (if possible) where the aberrant result came from. Were the researcher’s statistics flawed? Did he draw incorrect conclusions from his data? Might he just have made shit up? Did he have something to gain, financially or otherwise, from the unusual result?
Much of the opposition to vaccines, MMR in particular, stems from the work of Andrew Wakefield, whose Lancet article of 1998 purported to show that the MMR vaccine caused autism. It doesn’t. Many people tried very hard to replicate Wakefield’s results, without success, in the process pretty much proving the safety of vaccination, as much as a negative can be proven. Eventually the Lancet retracted the paper, Wakefield’s license to practice medicine was suspended, and the entire MMR-autism hypothesis was definitively refuted.
Except to an increasing number of hard-core antivaxers, who contend to this day that Wakefield was railroaded and that his findings were legitimate. Somehow they cling to the discredited results from a single researcher, denying the findings from numerous other sources that say they are wrong.
What does this have to do with guns?
Guns are dangerous. They have their uses, but only in the proper hands, with proper training, and with proper safeguards. Legitimate research has borne this out over and over again. (See Harvard Injury Control Research Center) And yet in any discussion when true gun extremists are called upon to cite evidence for their position that more people with more guns is a good thing, they always quote the same source: a book called More Guns, Less Crime (not linked; easily found) by a man named John Lott.
Turns out that the findings of this book (and this researcher) have been debunked over and over and over again. Furthermore, when confronted with inconsistencies in his research, Lott changes his story. This has gone on long enough that serious researchers in this field no longer consider his contributions credible.
Just like the anti-vaxers, this doesn’t stop gun extremists from clinging to the findings of a discredited academic as they go on insisting that the dangerous notion of “more guns means less crime” be used to guide policy. As dangerous as vaccine-refusal is, I daresay more people have died in this country from gun violence than from vaccine-preventable diseases.
There is something called Scopie’s law, which states:
In any discussion involving science or medicine, citing Whale.to [a known source of anti-scientific nonsense] as a credible source loses you the argument immediately …and gets you laughed out of the room.
I hereby propose Dino’s Gun Corollary to Skopie’s law:
In any discussion involving guns or firearms policy, citing More Guns, Less Crime or any other writings by John Lott as a credible source loses you the argument immediately.
I wouldn’t laugh at them, though. There’s nothing funny about guns.
All the siding is now finished. Everything left wrapped in green will soon be brick, which has already been delivered to the front yard. Inside, the drywall is just about done. They still have a lot of work left on it, beading, taping, spackling, etc. But it’s coming along very nicely indeed.
We also have a new neighbor to our right (left in the picture). There’s another one on the other side that’s due to be framed any day now. Within a few months of moving, we’ll have neighbors.
For almost thirty years, this was home. I secured the mortgage the same week I matched for residency. I moved right before medical school graduation.
Throughout my training, this was home. This was where I came post-call to lay my bone-weary head. Middle-of-the-night hospital calls rang here; this was where I came back to afterward.
I raised my family here. Babies brought home, watched as they learned to walk and talk, headed out to school (walking to elementary school around the corner), quickly becoming taller than me, and finally heading out into the world on their own.
This was their home.
This place saw its share of anger and fear along with love, joy, and triumph. My heart was broken here, though it mended with time as most things do. Love and joy returned.
It looked a little different at the beginning. Over the years it got new siding, an extra bedroom, a wider driveway, a new deck, a storage shed. It had more trees when I first moved in. Inside, every single room was eventually re-done. Twenty-nine years is a long time.
But no more. With kids gone, there’s no reason to bounce around in such a big place. Time to move on to smaller digs; someplace with an “open concept” and a first floor master. Near enough to get to work conveniently, but definitely a different neighborhood.
It feels strange. Even over these last four months of apartment living, I could still go over there whenever I wanted. But as of today, I no longer own the place. Make no mistake: it’s a huge relief to have the sale finally a done deal. But still; twenty-nine years is a long time. It will be a while yet, but I’ll get there. Watching the new house come together is exciting.
But today I pause to remember: Home.
I just realized what all these new insurance intermediaries and programs and organizations (all composed of people who don’t provide medical care to other people) remind me of: Derivatives! And we all remember how well that worked out for stocks a few years back.
Let me ‘splain.
A few years back, a bunch of Wall Street
crooks financiers came up with a bunch of new ways to package various stocks and securities that were intended to be too convoluted for anyone to figure out that they were nothing more than a way to relieve gullible investors of their money. It worked. Really well. Well, until the housing market collapsed and the country plunged into near economic collapse. But hey; these things happen. Remember, it was all legal. It just wasn’t a very good idea. Take home message for investors: stick to owning pieces of real companies. Whatever else happens, there will always be people who need things like houses, cars, food, and other goods and services.
Now look at what’s happening to medical care: first we had insurance companies bully their way into the doctor-patient (financial) relationship, and over the years, boy have they thrown their weight around. “Administrative costs” have generated such enormous profits, many of them have cast themselves as major philanthropists in their markets. They have to; technically they’re “non-profit” organizations. Nice work if you can get it.
Back in the 1990s, they tried something called Managed Care. The stated aim was to improve patients’ health (whatever that means), but the real object was to shift financial risk back onto the doctors. Before this, if a patient visited the doctor five times in a year. the insurance company would have to pay five times as much as if he only went once. So they came up with something they called Capitation: they paid the doctor a certain amount per person per month, and that was it. The only other pay the doctor got was a small co-pay from the patient (they started at $2.00) whenever she came in. If a patient came in ten times a month, the doctor only got an extra $20. Sweet deal for the insurance companies.
They also instituted things like Referrals, turning physicians into Gatekeepers. They withheld part of the physician payments (called “withholds”, of all things) which the docs could earn back by not spending (technically but not authorizing spending) too much on labs and other testing, specialists, and hospitalizations. As a practical matter, money withheld was rarely seen.
This didn’t work. Well, it worked great for the insurance companies. Lots of people made boatloads of money. But doctors and patients hated it; so much so that it mostly disappeared. Mostly. There are still two huge capitated programs I’ve been with for twenty years now, and I can’t drop them because the companies’ standard contracts (summary of negotiations: options include taking it or leaving it) include something called “all products” clauses. Have to take the capitated plans to participate in the others. Also, I still have lots of long-term patients in those plans, and wouldn’t you know it: referrals remain the bane of my existence.
But doctors and patients hated it. Eventually, the large employers moved away from them as the prices increased. Because golly gee: turns out they didn’t really save any money. Imagine that!
Now here we go with round two. Apparently not content to just siphon off money paid by patients intended to pay for their medical care, now the insurance companies are trying to get the doctors aboard, mainly by paying the early adopters tons of money to recruit their gullible peers. Things like the Medical Home, Team Care, Accountable Care Organizations, and so on are nothing but a shell game designed to divert funds away from the people who provide medical care (doctors) to people who are sick or hurt (patients).
Now these huge companies (and some smaller ones, but the bigger ones have better marketing departments) have even got government suckered in. They use words like “evidence” and “data”, promising that somehow the more bits and bytes of information they collect (most of which are completely meaningless) will result in spending less money for medical care while improving outcomes (another term they never define).
Guess what: It’s not going to work. Oh, the companies are going to do great (defined as “making a boatload of money”; investors take note.) But patients are not going to benefit materially. Doctors (the ones taking care of the patients, not the ones who defect to Administration) are not going to benefit. The system will dissipate, hopefully without collapsing too badly. And the doctors and patients will be the ones left to pick up the pieces.
You want better medical care? Find a way to pay doctors a fair compensation for their services. (Single payer works well in much of the rest of the world.) Get the insurance companies and other middlemen out of medical care financing. Let Medicare negotiate drug prices (at the moment, by law, they have to pay whatever the drug companies charge.) Ban direct-to-consumer pharma advertising. While you’re at it, ban hospital advertising as well. Use the money to pay for more nurses.
You want healthier citizens? Increase tobacco taxes to decrease smoking. Find ways to increase seat belt and helmet use. Enact sensible firearm laws to keep kids from dying from rampant gun violence. Address income disparity to ease the intolerable socioeconomic stressors of intractable poverty. Notice that none of these things actually involves doctors or medical care.
But please: pay attention to the man behind the curtain. Keep your eye on the ball. Medicine is about people called doctors taking care of people who are sick or hurt. Always was. Always will be.
I had a silver-and-gold Passover. Hearkening back to the old Girl Scout song I learned from my mother:
Make new friends, but keep the old;
One is silver and the other’s gold.
With no space or equipment to have a seder myself, I was nevertheless the lucky recipient of not just one, but two invitations. The gold was thanks to a quarter-century-plus friendship; the silver was from a family we met the week before Passover. Who should I meet at the seder but a legitimate health policy guru, with whom I promptly struck up the first of hopefully many spirited discussions on the state of healthcare (or, as it is correctly called, “medicine”) in the US today.
How would you fix it? I asked him.
He responded that he would allow any payment structure at all, except fee for service, which he would outlaw.
Hm, I thought. What’s so terrible about fee for service? Doesn’t nearly every other private enterprise in the country operate on the basis of paying for services rendered?
Ah, he said. But with fee for service, there’s no accountability.
Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot, I thought (because I was of course far too polite to come out and say it to someone I’d just met.)
Accountability. I do not think that means what you think it means.
Accountability, per Dictionary.com, is “the state of being liable or answerable.” Being “answerable” presumably means that when something goes wrong, he who is accountable is the go-to guy for blame. The bit about “liable” would imply a monetary dimension to the exchange.
What does this mean in medical terms? “When something goes wrong, someone has to pay”? Sounds rather like a rallying cry for the plaintiff’s bar. The problem is that in medicine, the line between doing something wrong and something bad happening is far less straight than may be imagined.
Another issue is that bad things often happen to people which is no one’s fault. Tumors metastasize; organs fail; people even die. (Actually, all of them will eventually.) Where does “accountability” come into it?
The health care policy guru’s answer: chronic disease management. Diabetes, hypertension, chronic heart, lung, and kidney disease cost way too much; ostensibly way more than they should (according to whom, by they way?) When physicians are held accountable for the costs of the medical care they provide, so goes the theory, they will provide…what? Better care? More evidence-based based? More efficient?
We then run smack into the fact that so much of the response to treatment depends on the patient! What about people who keep smoking, refuse to exercise, eat whatever they want? To non-physicians, this is still our fault. “Education” is the perennial answer. Obviously if we had appropriately educated/persuaded/cajoled/etc, the patient would comply with our recommendations and get better. At what point are patients ever accountable for themselves?
Apparently the only kind of accountability that counts (at least to health care policy gurus) is for physicians to be associated with organizations that take financial responsibility (also known as “risk”) for the costs of medical care. And of course, the only reasonable way to take on that kind of risk is to be part of a very large organization, and assume responsibility for a very large number of people (a population?) These Accountable Care Organizations nothing more than Managed Care 2.0, resurrecting the failed debacle of Managed Care from the 1990s, but with more money thrown at them this time around. I’m not holding my breath to see how many of those dollars trickle down to people actually providing medical care to people who are sick and hurt (known respectively as “doctors” and “patients”.)
When you stop to think about it, true fee for service makes me ultimately accountable to the only person who really matters: my patient. Once you take both government and insurance companies out of the middle (the so-called “direct pay” model, where the patients pay me directly for my services) and it’s just me and them, only then am I truly accountable.
Round and round and round we go yet again. The system is broken! Do something! Healthcare reform!
“Pay for performance” morphs into “measure (and pay) for quality.” The big problem is that no one has bothered to actually define the term, maybe because everyone assumes they know what it means — and that everyone else agrees with them. Wrong.
Quality is very much in the eye of the beholder, and can be surprisingly subjective. From my previous post:
Quality is like pornography; you know it when you experience it. But it cannot be measured; only assessed, and then only subjectively.
What does “quality” really mean in the context of medical care?
Some argue that when you have an operation, the surgeon shouldn’t leave anything inside you that shouldn’t be there. Others would say that everyone taking care of patients should wash their hands before and after every patient contact. Certainly all medical professionals should maintain proper licensure and credentials. I think of those things as basic expectations; more the difference between “acceptable” and “unacceptable”. “Quality” is different from “not unacceptable.”
Enter the idea of looking at “outcomes” (another meaningless word, also previously addressed by me here and here.) To reiterate: only certain kinds of illness and injuries have measurable outcomes. Fractures (should) heal. Surgically treated illnesses (should) resolve after operation. And so on. It’s generally accepted that there is a direct causal relationship between medical treatment provided and resolution of the condition, though this is not always so. Postoperative complications are not always preventable. Some fractures won’t heal. Cancers sometimes recur. So even the measurement of “outcomes” as a proxy for “quality” is fraught with hazard.
What about the relationship between “quality” and “Patient satisfaction”? Two words: Press Ganey. Short version is that there are times (lots of times) when what people think they want from doctors is not only not what they need, but can be dangerous, useless, and expensive. The patient is not the customer (and even so, the customer is not always right). When you actually look, it seems like the more satisfied people are, the worse their care.
So what does “quality” mean in the setting of primary care? Me again:
Quality in medical care has more to do with meeting the needs of individual patients and less to do with checking off boxes on a preventive care form. Some patients want detailed explanations of every facet of their medical care. Others prefer a more “Just the facts!” approach.
What does it mean to be a high quality primary care physician? According to me:
[T]he ability to bring more than one style of communication to bear in meeting the needs of a varied patient base.
How do I and other skilled primary care physicians accomplish this? That’s simple (not the same as easy): time. Taking the time to listen, get to know what kind of communication the patient wants and needs from us, and then providing it. That’s quality. Find a way to pay for it (or at least find a way to not penalize it) and stand back while things fall into place.
How to measure it? No one has a clue.
Because it can’t be done.
I do not provide “healthcare”. I don’t even provide “health care.” One word or two, what we physicians do is practice medicine, and what we do for patients is called “medical care.”
No one says, “I want some healthcare.” What they think is, “I don’t feel well. I want to see a doctor.”
People get sick and they get hurt. It’s true that many these conditions occur as a result of things they do (smoke, eat junk food, drink too much alcohol, go skiing) or don’t do (use seat belts in the car or helmets when riding motorcycles, exercise regularly.) But even if everyone in the whole country made perfect “choices” all the time, they would still need medical care for illnesses and accidents from time to time.
One of the wonderful things we can do these days is keep people from getting sick. This is called “preventive medicine” (or “preventative”, if you think it sounds more impressive with an extra syllable.) We have Primary prevention, such as vaccines to prevent certain infectious diseases, and Secondary prevention, such as taking aspirin and statins after a heart attack to prevent you from having another one.
We can also find some diseases before the patient has any symptoms of it. Sometimes (not always!) we can treat it then, preventing symptoms in the future and possibly (possibly!) prolonging life. This is called Screening. It is still a form of medical care.
“Healthcare” is a made up term. It was invented by administrators, bureaucrats, and politicians (people who do not provide medical care) to insinuate themselves into the
income stream process between people who are either sick or hurt, or who feel well and wish to avoid becoming sick or hurt, if possible, and the people whose care they seek. Their sole purpose is to siphon off as much of that revenue stream as they possibly can, leaving an ever shrinking pool of funds to pay the doctors and hospitals (meaning nurses, technicians, and housekeepers) who actually take care of people who are sick or hurt.
Sadly, they’ve done an awesome job of it. One of their strategies is recruiting doctors who are tired of fighting them to come join them…not coincidentally by greatly enriching them in the process. But every doctor seduced away from taking care of patients (our word for “people who are sick or hurt”) means one fewer available to make a real difference in the lives of real people.
What would I do to reform the “Health Care System”? Begin by abandoning the word (or words) “Healthcare” and going back to calling is what it is: Medicine.
Note: meme ca change…Already addressed this in March of 2012.
Windows also now placed in the family room, only visible from the back of the house. Plumbing and electrical mostly done. Ready for “Pre-drywall walk through” next week.
Also coming up next week: see those boxes in the right side of the garage? That’s siding. They should also be delivering a pile of brick sometime soon, so the exterior should really start taking shape quickly.
When last we visited the world of electronic medical records, Dino and Friend were happily puttering along with our freebie EMR and our freebie practice management system (including free electronic claim submissions.) We were hooked up electronically to the lab, so we entered orders and got results through the computer, though we still have to print out requisitions and labels for specimens. But we still had a fax machine.
Until about six months ago, when I splurged on a hideously complex and expensive piece of technology which we plugged into the fax phone line and one of the office computers, and Voila! Faxes on the computer. The fax machine still sits there, seldom utilized (except for outgoing faxes; we could do those electronically as well, but Friend has some techno-timidity), though it comes in handy when the power fails. (It comes back on automatically, whereas the computer does not.)
At last the office utilization of paper has shrunk. Dramatically! Checking faxes is now a matter of point and click instead of risking smeary-inked paper cuts. Best of all, they go directly into the EMR.
The next step — over a chasm still as yawningly huge as ever — is sharing all this information with other doctors. As mentioned above, lab results come directly into the computer as well. Luckily, the lab has this nifty feature allowing me to send duplicate copies to referring physicians. So whenever I draw a test for another doctor, I always make a point of asking the lab to send it along. (Yes, people come to me for blood draws. I have mad phlebotomy skillz).
There’s this one office, though, that always calls and asks us to fax patients’ labs over.
“Didn’t you get it from the lab?” I ask, over and over.
“No,” they claim.
I look at the lab report. Sure enough, it says right there, “DUPLICATE FAXED TO ABC SPECIALISTS.”
“But the lab report says they sent it to your office.”
“Oh, well Dr. A can’t access it through our EMR unless it comes directly to him.”
Only problem with that is that when I put Dr. A’s name into the lab, the program changes it to the practice information.
So I guess we’re not finished killing trees just yet.
Lots has been happening inside (plumbing, wiring, etc.) but nothing much that shows up in a picture Today, though, there was action: cutout done for the window over the garage, of which DSS sent me a picture.
Here’s the thing, though: when I downloaded and opened the image, the way it showed up against my computer desktop cracked me up. So here’s a screenshot instead of just the picture:
Looks like a scary neighborhood we’re moving to, doesn’t it.
We lost a branch off a big old tree a few weeks ago.
“Call the tree guy,” said DSS.
“It’ll cost us a grand,” I muttered.
“No it won’t,” he said, dialing Dan, the tree guy.
$300 later and the branch was gone. Such a deal. But Dan the tree guy discovered that the tree was starting to rot out. Also, without the fallen branch, the tree was now dangerously unbalanced and really should be taken down, as it could present a safety hazard. $700 later and the “big stick” (as he called it) was history.
“Told you so,” I muttered to DSS.
But I had the chance to talk with Dan the tree guy.
“So I guess your dream job would be something in forestry, right?” I asked.
“No. I take care of trees.”
“But isn’t a forest just a whole bunch of trees?”
“Well, yeah. But there’s much more involved in taking care of a forest than just taking care of one tree at a time.”
Hm. Sounds familiar.
I take care of patients. Many patients. But, contrary to the impressions of the medically naive regulators who somehow consider themselves competent to pontificate on health care, a “population” is more than just a collection of “many patients.”
My job is to take the best possible care of the patient in front of me. Then the next, and the next, and the one after that. At the end of the day, however many patients I’ve seen, I still haven’t taken care of a “population.”
Caring for populations is called “Public Health.” It includes such things as access to potable water, food supplies, and schools as well as hospitals, doctors, and medical care. Physicians can be involved in public health, but it really doesn’t have anything to do with “practicing medicine.”
If the patient in front of me needs an MRI, I cannot in good conscience tell him that he can’t have it because someone else may need it more. That’s a population calculation, and it falls into the realm of public health. If you don’t need whatever it is you’re asking for, it’s my job to explain to you why you don’t need it. It has nothing to do with “good stewardship of scarce resources.” If you need an MRI, a consultation, or a procedure, my job is to do everything in my power to see that you get it. Period.
All these calls for Primary physicians (in Orwellianly named “Patient Centered Medical Homes“) to “manage populations” are disingenuous at best, and counterproductive at worst. We don’t manage populations. We take care of patients. One at a time. Each to the very best of our ability, with the help of the best possible evidence, but still one at a time.
And then the next.
Several more things have happened that aren’t visible from the outside. We now have cement floors on the front porch, patio, garage and basement, plus stairs down to the basement. The half-wall that will eventually be the larger of our two kitchen islands is in place.
Still a ways to go, but getting there.
The topic for today is In-Home Assessments by insurers masquerading as “useful.” I’ve previously discussed my observation that only patients with few or no actual medical problems seem to be chosen for these assessments. What happens when someone with multiple, complex, longstanding problems is selected?
Um, okay then.
PAIN TREATMENT PLAN: Follow up with doctor
Always a great default response. Since you home-assessment folks are right on top of things, what else do you suggest?
Member is recommended for reassessment of pain in: 6 weeks
Right. Because at that point it will have been there for 42 years and 6 weeks.
Good for a laugh, even though there’s nothing funny about it at all.
Did you know that Google will display a special birthday doodle for you on your birthday?
I didn’t. Until today, when I saw this:
Oh, I thought. That looks like a doodle for someone’s birthday. Let me mouse over and see who…turns out that the alt-text mouseover message says, “Happy Birthday, Dino.”
Udon Noodles with Doctored Peanut Sauce.
Some assembly required: