Reflection on a Thursday: Seinfeld Reincarnated

One of the medical students told me recently, "Your life should be a reality TV show. Seriously."

I think he was right. My life is this amalgamation of "only Manning" moments that one would have to see to believe. It never fails. I have a "Seinfeld moment" every single day at Grady. Sometimes more than one.

Like today, for example, I was rounding with my team on our post call rounds. We were on the last of our ten new admissions, and the interns and I decided we'd make a pit stop at the Coke machine. Got my usual: a icy cold Diet Coke. Aaaaahhhh.

I tried to open it to take a sip. . . .grrrrrr. . . . .thought maybe my hand was too oily or something. Dried my hand off in my lab coat pocket and tried again . . . .grrrrrrrr. . . . . . dang, this sucker is screwed on tighter than I thought. Kept walking with team to last patient.

Now standing in front of room of last patient. Listening to Marc, one of my interns, tell me about his patient. Periodically. . .grrrrrr. . .struggling to . . .just. . . get . . .this . . .grrrrrr. . . .open. . ."Yes, okay, go on". . . .grrrr. . . .

Finally, Ben, the other intern, can't stand it any more. He steps in to help his damsel attending in Diet Coke distress. Kind of like Harry always does with a jar of unopened salsa, he did the silent hand wave signaling that with a simple pass it will be opened in an airtight-stopping, manly snap. No shame in my game. I hand it over. Marc politely pauses.

"Thanks, Ben. Go ahead, Marc."

Marc keeps presenting. I keep listening and writing on my billing card. . . . and, okay I'll admit it. . . periodically checking Ben's work with the airtight Diet Coke--more because I think it might explode in his face and not so much because I don't think he has the brawn to get it open. (I'm just saying.)

"Clinically, the patient looks much better than she did on yesterday," said Marc with that post-overnight frogginess that gets into one's voice after being awake for too long, "If things keep going in the right direction, we can aim for a discharge early tomorrow morning." In we go. Diet Coke waits on counter until we finish seeing the patient.

Eight minutes, one physical exam, one assessment and plan, and four or five Socratic questions later, Ben is still in the corner struggling with that bottle. Our fourth year med student, Barb, has even joined in on the task. Marc and I stop and just look at them--passing this bottle of Diet Coke back and forth. Ben's face is turning red with hypermasculine struggle. It's a pretty funny sight. Marc offered up a weak, post-call mini-smile (which, in itself, amused me.)

I can't help but start laughing at Ben's crimson face as he worked on getting his attending's thirst quenched. "Dude! What's up with you and this Coke? This will be reflected in your evaluation!"

Deadpan Ben hands the drink back to me and shakes his head slowly. He says to me with the most somber face he can muster, "Bad news, Dr. Manning. Your Coke is broke."

"What?"

"Your Coke. It's sealed shut," chimed in Barb with a snicker.

"Say what? I have an imperforate Coke?" (Recognizing my extremely lame use of medical jargon.) I study the cap incredulously--fused shut into one infinite plastic piece. Wow.

"Yes. It's official, Dr. Manning," Ben confirmed, "Your Coke is indeed broke."



A broke Coke? Seriously? Seriously.


See? This is my life. I just show up and live it, man.

True stories: Fatter not Phatter, Big Boned-edness, and Relief in Dolby Stereo

Fat (adj.): Obesity; corpulence.

Phat (adj.): Slang term for something that is excellent or attractive.

True stories. I ain't lyin'. (Hand over heart)

The following incidents happened to me at Grady on both today and yesterday, respectively:

Grady Seinfeld moment #1:

Stepped on the Grady 'A' elevators at 12:20 pm today. This environmental services lady (a different one) pushing cart of cleaning supplies says to me in front of the other five people on the elevator, "I seen you on Fox 5, doc. You know you look fatter on TV than you look at Grady." Again? You've got to be kidding me! Maybe she meant I looked "phat" not "fat" (She quickly clarified that for me.)

"Not like you look fat-fat, I mean you just look like you a LOT thicker on TV, you know like you just more big boned-ed." Big boned-ed??? Wo-ow.

A couple turned around and nodded . . . .still not sure if that nod was "yeah, I have seen you on Fox 5" or "hells yeah! you do look fatter (not phatter) on TV!"
Was too scared to ask. Prefer denial on this one.

Grady Seinfeld moment #2

Yesterday, I was sitting in the family waiting room having a meeting with my resident, Stacie S., on the 9th floor family meeting room. It's a very serene room with couches, a table, comfy chairs and such--meant to feel "homey" especially during family meetings (which we had just finished having.) Usually, if someone inadvertently pops their head in, they immediately retreat if it's obvious that someone is having a serious or private discussion (which we were.) Okay, so there is a bathroom just as you enter the room, and this random, twenty-something year old guy walks in the door and points to the restroom. We suspect he stepped in on accident, so we prepare to redirect him to another bathroom. Before we could say anything, the dude goes in the bathroom, DOESN'T CLOSE THE DOOR, and urinates for what seemed like an hour straight. I am convinced that he drank 8 liters of Coca Cola, held his bladder for 36 hours before coming in there, and was in some perverse way proud to demonstrate to us that he could pee in Dolby stereo. What??? Who does that???

Okay, so the dude waltzes out of the commode and me and my resident just looked at eachother and then him in disbelief. That Grady familiarity kicked in and I said, "Awwww, come on, dude! Next time close the door- especially with ladies in the room!" He did not look one bit embarrassed. For minute I thought he was going to say, "What ladies?", but I was relieved when all he said was, "My bad, doc! That's my bad." While zipping up his pants, and arranging himself. (Sorry, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.)

Awwwww man. . .just thought about it! He didn't bother to flush OR wash his hands either. . . . . .

Take home messages:

1. As long as you think you're phat when you look in the mirror, that's all that matters.

2. If you must arrange yourselves, gentleman, do it in private.