Making a choice to take a different road
I'm currently in a Physical Examination class as a subsection of my Preparation for Clinical Medicine class. In the class we learn such valuable skills as: palpation, auscultation, inspection, awkward groping, cuddling, heavy petting and rubbing. Some time (maybe not this semester), we'll learn rectal exams, pelvics, and breast exams. Finally I'll actually know what I'm doing when I go to local high schools and college campuses offering to perform these services for free. People trust the white coat.
In this class I feel the need to be amusing. Hell, let's be honest. I always feel the need to be amusing. I'm a whore for laughter. Even cheap laughter, including but not limited to jiggling keys in front of a baby and tickling D-Rock. In this class it's especially bad because my exam partner Zed (name changed to protect anonymity) approached me to be his partner because he thought I was funny. Now I have to step up to the task.
My general approach is just to make random jokes throughout the class. Example: he was using a tongue depressor, so I thanked him for putting his wood in my mouth. The nature of the class makes the jokes sexually charged. It makes Zed both amused and frightened, which is a common feeling around me anyway. I also sing love songs whilst he examines me. The two girls in the room as well as the preceptor also seem amused...I hope. I know, I know...I'm that guy. Normally it's all harmless fun. But this Friday, though, an innocent bystander was caught in the crossfire.
As I said, I went to see the Vergina Monologues last week. At the show, they were selling tattoos which read "Vagina Revolution" and they only cost a quarter. Knowing that my class the next day would involve dressing in a gown and examination of the back, I decided to purchase one. The next morning, with the assistance of Legal Counsel, I applied the tattoo to my back. I set off for class with this proudly emblazoned on my skin:
I consider it a lesson in expecting the unexpected. As an ER doc, you never know when you're going to see a tattoo of a...banana...stuck in a...pot roast. It's the best I could come up with, folks.
I was all atwitter the whole day. I was sitting in class, hoping for a good laugh that afternoon. The time came. I stripped to the waist and threw on a gown. Cloth, not paper unfortunately. As Zed went to percuss my back, he saw the offending ink. He laughed and commented, "That's fabulous." not with a lisp, as you might have interpreted. My preceptor was similarly amused. And hopefully the one girl there that day was as well. She didn't act offended. We all had a lugh and moved on to the actual practice and learning.
Then Dr. Rappaport came in. I like to call him PaRappa-the-Rappaport (because I'm weird). He's one of my favorite professors - you know, smart, good sense of humor, cool stories. He's the one who didn't even hesitate when I asked how to perform a tracheotomy with a pen knife and a ball-point pen. He came into the room to watch us demonstrate the techniques. I was sitting on the butcher paper as he entered, so he walked around to my back to watch Zed work.
His reaction was hilarious. He kind of stopped, smiled and looked down. The look of unexpected amusement. He laughed and said, "I know you're a bit of a jokester, but this seems a little much." I've got a reputation with the professors! Sweet! I assured him it wasn't real, and he replied with "Okay, good." Hilarious. Of all the days for him to come in and observe, he chose Vagina Revolution Day. Good times. We're doing chest exams this friday. I need to come up with something good...
---Congratulations! You have written 100 posts.---
Would ya look at that! 100 emails. I had no idea! I lost count around 51. Well, I suppose I should do something to celebrate... uh... ooh! I'll type "post" 100 times!
post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Here's a message from 1920s Montgomery:
That's enough H*R ripoffs for now. What's in the future for Montgomery Road? Food in pill form, flying cars, moving sidewalks, robots, talking dogs. At least that's what I hope. I'm also hoping to return to my beginnings - strings of jokes and pop culture references rather than narratives of my life. It's a mandate from the people. I get a lot of man dates.
In this class I feel the need to be amusing. Hell, let's be honest. I always feel the need to be amusing. I'm a whore for laughter. Even cheap laughter, including but not limited to jiggling keys in front of a baby and tickling D-Rock. In this class it's especially bad because my exam partner Zed (name changed to protect anonymity) approached me to be his partner because he thought I was funny. Now I have to step up to the task.
My general approach is just to make random jokes throughout the class. Example: he was using a tongue depressor, so I thanked him for putting his wood in my mouth. The nature of the class makes the jokes sexually charged. It makes Zed both amused and frightened, which is a common feeling around me anyway. I also sing love songs whilst he examines me. The two girls in the room as well as the preceptor also seem amused...I hope. I know, I know...I'm that guy. Normally it's all harmless fun. But this Friday, though, an innocent bystander was caught in the crossfire.
As I said, I went to see the Vergina Monologues last week. At the show, they were selling tattoos which read "Vagina Revolution" and they only cost a quarter. Knowing that my class the next day would involve dressing in a gown and examination of the back, I decided to purchase one. The next morning, with the assistance of Legal Counsel, I applied the tattoo to my back. I set off for class with this proudly emblazoned on my skin:
I consider it a lesson in expecting the unexpected. As an ER doc, you never know when you're going to see a tattoo of a...banana...stuck in a...pot roast. It's the best I could come up with, folks.
I was all atwitter the whole day. I was sitting in class, hoping for a good laugh that afternoon. The time came. I stripped to the waist and threw on a gown. Cloth, not paper unfortunately. As Zed went to percuss my back, he saw the offending ink. He laughed and commented, "That's fabulous." not with a lisp, as you might have interpreted. My preceptor was similarly amused. And hopefully the one girl there that day was as well. She didn't act offended. We all had a lugh and moved on to the actual practice and learning.
Then Dr. Rappaport came in. I like to call him PaRappa-the-Rappaport (because I'm weird). He's one of my favorite professors - you know, smart, good sense of humor, cool stories. He's the one who didn't even hesitate when I asked how to perform a tracheotomy with a pen knife and a ball-point pen. He came into the room to watch us demonstrate the techniques. I was sitting on the butcher paper as he entered, so he walked around to my back to watch Zed work.
His reaction was hilarious. He kind of stopped, smiled and looked down. The look of unexpected amusement. He laughed and said, "I know you're a bit of a jokester, but this seems a little much." I've got a reputation with the professors! Sweet! I assured him it wasn't real, and he replied with "Okay, good." Hilarious. Of all the days for him to come in and observe, he chose Vagina Revolution Day. Good times. We're doing chest exams this friday. I need to come up with something good...
---Congratulations! You have written 100 posts.---
Would ya look at that! 100 emails. I had no idea! I lost count around 51. Well, I suppose I should do something to celebrate... uh... ooh! I'll type "post" 100 times!
post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Here's a message from 1920s Montgomery:
Well done, my doppelgänger! Stop! By the time you read this telegrammaparcel, I'll be long dead! Stop! Therefore, I've enclosed half of my moustache therein. Stop! I bid you good tidings, and may you continue to flummox those less fortunate than you!
That's enough H*R ripoffs for now. What's in the future for Montgomery Road? Food in pill form, flying cars, moving sidewalks, robots, talking dogs. At least that's what I hope. I'm also hoping to return to my beginnings - strings of jokes and pop culture references rather than narratives of my life. It's a mandate from the people. I get a lot of man dates.
posted by Montgomery at 8:27 AM
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