So in the interest of good interwebz reading, I bring you this: Shepherd of the Gurneys. Go forth and read now. Srsly. Don't believe me? Here's a little excerpt of the fun, from "Diagnosis of the Week:"
That fact notwithstanding, please accept as gospel, that unless you produce either the winning Powerball ticket, serial 24K solid gold nuggets, or the body of Jimmy Hoffa, there is nothing in your barf that I, the other staff, the doctors, or anyone in North America wants to "take a look at". I don't care if you ate alphabet soup and coincidentally horked up the entire Revelation of St. John, in Greek, or launched out something that's the spitting image (you should forgive the pun) of DaVinci's Mona Lisa. Keep it to yourself, and leave it at home. Don't even use a clear bag.
Like I said. Comedy gold.
Also, I promise I'll get myself in gear and start writing regularly again soon because I have lots to say about this travel assignment and how much I'm going to miss it and how fast six months flew by. I'll be back, but probably not until next March or so. I'm gonna miss Texas something fierce, especially the friends I've made here.
2 comments:
Wow, you and Dr. Whitecoat in the same week. I'm honored. Thanks for the nod.
But credit where it's due: the patients are the comedy gold. I just transcribe the antics. I view my efforts as just like the Darwin Awards, without the sad ending.
THANK YOU, shrtstormtrooper! Moar bloggy goodness. :)
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