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.

The.

Actual.

F*ck.

As much as I wanted to shout at him u201cThis.

Is.

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.

u201d,The.

Nerve.

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.

,I.

Was.

Fuming.

Mad.

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.