Wasting Gas

Before I get to the main course of this post, I must publish a few pictures that got lost in the shuffle a few months ago...

This is Buddy, Radar, and Dixie sitting on my antique couch inherited from my great aunt.
(Sorry, mom. We don't usually let the animals sit on the couch, but they were just too cute that night.)

The next is a picture that I painted in a frame that I made. As it turns out, making a picture frame is waaaaay harder than it seems like it should be. Hopefully I enjoy this one, because I'm never making another one.


Finally, the story that spawned a reason for me to include the word "gas" in a blog post. I spent the last week of school on oral surgery rotation extracting teeth. For some reason, we had an unusually high number of patients with serious health problems come in for extractions. Usually when patients come in with health concerns we evaluate their ability to safely undergo the procedure and generally we proceed without any modifications to the procedure (except that I sweat more wondering if I will have to do CPR on said patient).

Occasionally a patient is deemed unable to proceed, so we will refer him to his physician for evaluation or labs before doing the extraction. Usually patients appreciate this level of care and concern, but occasionally they become irritated with the delay. Such was the case of my patient.

The patient had a list of medications and a list of potentially life-threatening illnesses. Most of the patient's maladies were controlled with medication, which generally means we can proceed with extraction, but there was a note on this patient's chart stating that there was a problem with his platelet count (platelets are what helps your blood to form a clot, say, after an extraction, and keep you from continuing to bleed) that had no diagnosis and was of concern. I spoke with my faculty about the situation and we decided that it would be best if we could wait to do the extraction until after the patient's platelet count was under control so that we could make sure he would safely survive the procedure.

As I explained this to the patient, he became irate. Before I even finished talking to him, he stormed out, yelling down the hallway, "Platelets?!? Who cares about platelets?!? You wasted my gas driving down here!!!"

My faculty and I sweetly shouted down the hallway after him, "Come back if you change your mind. We'd be happy to help you."

But something tells me that with gas costing $3.50 per gallon, we may have seen the last of him. So I guess all I can say is that I care about saving teeth and saving lives, but I've had to draw the line somewhere, and the line is right before your gas bill.

I'm so thoughtless.