Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Office Tours, 25 cents

It's Tuesday. Which means that everybody in the medical blog world is, appropriately, over at Dr. Leap's place perusing Grand Rounds. I, on the other hand, am slogging away in the office. We surgeons like to call this "baiting the traps." You see, in order to have patients to operate upon, one must first persuade them into the idea that surgery would be good for them. Not quite "here little girl, want some candy?", but something of the sort.

I know some physicians who like to have their patients sit down in the comfy confines of their personal office. One of my closest friends, an oncologist, prefers this as a way to remove patients from the exam room environment to ensure a good discussion of treatment options with patients who are stressed by difficult problems. That has never been my practice, in part because I have a small office and in part because that's not my personality. There may be a third reason, however --- no matter how hard I try to keep up, my office can be a bit of a mess.

Want a tour?

Here it is: Aggravated DocSurg Central Command. I have a great view out my windows, but prefer it a bit darker.

Lest you think that for the past 5 years I have been deceiving you, I did actually graduate from to The Best Medical School in the Country®, but -- here's the diploma to prove it.

Yeah, I have a few other things on the wall --- pictures, certificates, etc. More importantly, I have a futon to crash on.

I try to vote in every election. In 2008, I voted for Pedro.

Words to live by --- Peter's Laws (The Creed of the Sociopathic Obsessive Compulsive).

And more words to live by -- Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit. Or, anything in Harold and the Purple Crayon.

There is always an extra pair of Crocs hanging around my office. These, according to SWIMBO, make me look like Barney. I kinda like them --- tacky, yet obnoxious.

One can never have too much Elvis.

Do you marvel at the wondrous future of the paperless medical office, made possible by the unicorn otherwise known as the "Electronic Medical Record?" I do too, but I also used to dream that Raquel Welch would waltz in the door of my 8th grade classroom to take me away to a life of debauchery. Paperless, in the case of our hospital's EMR, is a description for my children's future, as they are going through trees like a squadron of beavers on a bender. This is a one-day pile of output "pushed" to my fax machine, sitting on top of my HIPAA mandated shredder.

The object of my desire derision. And since it is now shrieking at me with the intensity of a Stuka in a steep dive, it's time to wrap up our little tour. Come again ---- and, if you happen to have any decorating suggestions, I would be eternally grateful.