The bloodmobile came by our office to collect blood.
“We’re running lower than normal this month,” said a volunteer.
Instead of laying down on the cots, we formed a mob and marched to the local blood bank.
“Oh crap!” shouted the staff there. “It’s a blood bank run!”
They barred the doors, took to the roof, and tried to drive us off by pelting us with bottles of orange juice and cookies.
But we’d come armed with trash can lids, and deflected the projectiles.
VROOM!
Oh no! I’d forgotten about the bloodmobile!
Bodies flew as it careened through our ranks.
Tag: medical
Drugs Tomorrow
The more we learn about how the brain works, the better the drugs we’re making.
I’m not talking about curing mental illness or anxiety or brain tumors. I’m talking about the fun stuff.
Acid trips that never go bad.
Highs higher than the highest high.
Maybe it’ll be with pills. Or needles.
I’m betting on the direct route, using magnetic spin.
Quantum-level manipulation with room-temperature superconductors.
Put your head in the scanner, put your head in the cloud.
No more growing.
No more chemistry labs.
No more dealers.
No more gang wars.
Just make sure the outlet’s grounded this time.
Medicinal Music
Studies with burn patients showed that engaging the patient with music helped reduce the need for pain medications during bandage changes, and the patients recovered faster.
As a result, the hospital needed less medication and nurses to deliver it and monitor patient progress, which led to significant cost-savings.
That was until the RIAA had talks with the drug companies and the nurse’s union.
Lobbyists got Congress to require a prescription for purchasing music.
Apple and Amazon were delighted to raise prices for downloads and cloud-streaming.
This isn’t a piano. It’s a fancy bar table.
See? No hammers.
Totally legal, man.
Where The Wild Things Aren’t
The night Max wore his wolf suit
And made mischief of one kind or another
His mother called him WILD THING!
And Max said “I’ll eat you up!”
While sending Max to his room
His mother had a stroke and collapsed
Max stood there, confused
He tried to wake up his mother
But she didn’t move at all
So, Max picked up the telephone
And called the emergency number.
They arrived a few minutes later
Put his mother on a stretcher
Covered her with a sheet
And took her away.
Child Services picked up Max
He never wore costumes again
Z Pack
The doctor called it a Z Pack.
Two antibiotic pills the first day, and then a pill for each of the next four days.
The first day, my sinuses cleared up, and my cough eased.
The second day, I was hearing strange bubbling and squishing noises from my guts.
The third day was spent on the toilet, expelling my gastrointestinal tract’s contents and its helpful bacterial flora.
The fourth day, I could have swallowed golf balls and launched them further than Jack Nicklaus at a driving range.
The rest, I don’t want to remember.
Pass the antibacterial hand wipes, please.
Dr. Quack
Of all the doctors I’ve had over the years, the best one was named Quack.
Yes, his name was Quack. And he was great!
When I had an ache in my foot, he cured me of it.
Okay, so he cured me by cutting off my foot, and I admit that was a bit extreme, but it hasn’t hurt since.
The ringing in my ear… solved!
The arthritis in my hand… solved!
The migraines…
Well, those, I’ve still got. I made an appointment with him, but his office was empty.
Except for his guillotine.
Mind pulling the cord for me?
Three Strikes You’re Dead
I took you out to the ballgame and bought peanuts and Cracker Jack.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked. “You know what peanuts do to you.”
You didn’t even look up from your program. “I left the Epipen at home. I don’t care if I ever get back.”
So, I handed you the peanuts.
The announcer asked everyone to please rise for the national anthem, but I could tell from your blue skin and the foam at the corner of your mouth that the convulsions weren’t far off.
After the third, I felt your wrist. No pulse.
“PLAY BALL!”
Switched
Every so often, you hear about a “Switched At Birth” story in the news where two couples get each other’s babies by mistake.
Usually that gets cleared up with DNA testing, or an out-of-court settlement with the hospital.
However, there was one instance I heard of where a baby was accidentally switched with a janitor’s mop.
The happy couple was a bit concerned that their bundle of joy didn’t cry or eat, but they appreciated being able to sleep through the night without interruption.
The janitor filed a grievance with management because the baby didn’t clean floors all that well.
The Spice Of Lifeless
I used to like spicy and hot foods.
Adding a bit of Tabasco to the ranch dressing dip for carrots and celery kicked things up
The problem is, spicy foods don’t like me anymore.
It doesn’t take much for me to blast out half of my intestinal tract in a disgusting, bloody, and smelly mess.
So, I started a food diary, and measured my reactions to various things.
Tabasco…gone.
Picante… gone.
Vietnamese pepper sauce… gone.
The refrigerator got emptier and emptier.
Pretty soon, it was just romaine lettuce, yogurt and cottage cheese.
I think I’ll go drink drain cleaner now.
Watching the snow fall
Old Bert looks out the window.
Green. Brown.
The first of his ninety Winters without snow.
He shakes his head. “This won’t do.”
His hand trembles as he reaches for the phone.
There are no buttons. No dial.
He picks it up, brings it up to his ear, and gently whispers “Snow.”
Looking out the window, he watches snowflakes appear, slowly at first, then more… and more…
He smiles. “Thank you,” he whispers, putting the receiver down.
His heart will give out tomorrow morning. They’ll find him in his chair, looking out the window.
Watching the snow fall. And smiling.