Office

After 13 years of working where I do, I finally have ‘M.D.’ after my name on the letterhead. I’ve never been one to flex my medical muscles but I think it is appropriate to include my credentials whenever I am writing pompous letters to insurance companies or pow-wowing with my fellow wizards. All it took was a simple request to The House Manager. Who would have thunk it?  This revelation was like the radiance of a brilliant sunrise so I asked her to send me the other templates for coiffing. All the forms are updated and nifty looking.* I’m pleased as punch.  I arranged the sentences and such to accommodate my left-handedness. I added ‘please’ to some of the imperial-sounding instructions.  Manners count!

Alas, I won’t be attending the annual office holiday party this weekend for I am away on a medical conference. Each year at this party I get a modest cash stipend which I immediately use to buy a good bottle of scotch I am too cheap to buy with my own cash. I wonder if I will get it given my absence. Let us hope so. I have the bottle already picked out.

One of the counselors is quitting work this week. I am sad to see him go for he did a good job and the patients liked him. A new one started this week but I haven’t met him yet. Glancing at him in the hallway he looks a bit overwhelmed. Let’s see if he stays.

Where am I going this weekend Spo-fans may be asking? I go to Lost Vegas for a medical conference. Last night I received an email from the Conference asking me to clarify which of the two seminars am I attending: “Updates in substance abuse disorders” or “The pelvic anatomy and gynecological surgery symposium”.  Dear me! I suspect the latter would be more intriguing – and probably with better luncheons. Shrinks tend to feel guilty being fed by pharm reps so they don’t eat lavishly, but surgeons have no such scruples – and they demand only the best, baby.  I will attend the one on ketamine, opioids, CBD oil etc. as sooner I’d eat rats at Tewkesbury than sit among surgeons. If my group becomes dull I can tiptoe across the hall and go have a look-see at the newest in prolapse uterine repair – or at least to swipe me a proper sandwich.

 

*It’s always the queer one to make things fabulous.