Doctors, what is the one opening line from a patient that makes you groan and want to shake your head?

Where can I print pictures from negatives

u201cGOOGLE SAYS HERE u2014u201dScenario: The Emergency Room3:00 AM.

Just finished discharging and admitting a few patients that came in from the usual 10 ou2032clock evening surge, and was about to grab some precious shut-eye.

Was about to bid my nurses adieu and drag myself to my quarters, when the ER doors open.

,Herein saunters a skinny male, early 20u2019s, with a semi-blonde, mohawk hairdo, matte black shades, over-sized scarf across the neck, all-black shirt and pants (heu2019s emo? IDK), and green+red flip flops.

Get the picture? Good.

,Then he blurts out in a fake British accent.

,u201cDo you make certificates for medical leave here?u201d,What.




As much as I wanted to shout at him u201cThis.


Manila!u201d, then proceed to kick him square in the chest into an endless pit u2014 I had to stop myself.

,(My inner musings at the time; photou2019s not mine),Of course, being the good clinical staff members that we were, my ER nurses led him to a bed, where his vitals were checked, information form was filled out, all done in efficient fashion.

I briefly washed my haggard face for some semblance of rejuvenation, then approached the patientu2019s bed.

Then I ask him in a mild tone, u201cWhat seems to be the problem, sir?u201d.

,Again, in the fake Brit voice, u201cIu2019m having chest pain for the past 30 minutes; I think Iu2019m having a heart attack.

Google says here u2014u201d,My ears just shut him off halfway.

Really? Diagnosis by Algorithm? Again?,Endless pitu2019s sounding good right about now.


,I conserved my energy, reserved my vitriol, and explained in brief that Google does not account for age, sex, and a plethora of other clinical factors.

I told him that a chest radiograph and an EKG would be done to assess his current situation.

I also asked if heu2019s allergic to any food or medications; he says he is not.

He consents to the management.

I give him 2 tablets of acetaminophen, then await the tests.

,Surprise, surprise.

They all came back negative / normal.

I brought him the happy news, of course, with the final diagnosis of Costochondritis.

Hereu2019s the kicker: u201cCan I get a medical leave for this diagnosis?u201d,At this point, the spirit of Leonidas is slowly starting to possess my body.

u201cIu2019m afraid not.

But, I can write you up a prescription, and a medical certificate.

Sound about right?u201d,u201cSure doc.

u201d That damn fake British accent is getting old.

,I print out the certificate, and jot down a prescription for pain medications.

As I was about to hand the paperwork to my ER nurses, herein walks Mr.

Fake Briton.

,u201cDoc, can you pre-date that certificate to about a week ago? I had to skip work that day.

Had a bad case of hangover.

You know, parties.



I feel my throat tighten in a losing bid NOT to shout at this grade-A pretentious pretender.

My voice comes out a bit sharper, if not a bit husky.

,u201cIu2019m afraid I cannot jeopardize my medical license for such a fabricated story.

u201d,At this point, he does what no self-respecting person would do.

He goes puppy-dog eyes and goes, u201cPretty please?u201d,I cross my arms over my chest, stood back a little more straight, and just shook my head in negation.

He just batted his eyelids, and went, u201cFine!u201d.





By some joyful happenstance, I did not let my anger get the best of me.

But I did reprint his medical certificate, signed with the phrase: May return to work / normal physical activities today.

,Bloody yuppies.