First of all, thank you so much to all of you who left kind and encouraging messages on my acceptance to law school. I'm a bit deer-in-the-headlights right now, but in a good way.
Now to my post.
Is this how Dr. Grumpy feels with his bizarre patient phone calls?
I'm home with my family for Christmas. "Home" is a tiny town in southwestern Ontario, where my uncle is the only practicing GP (as was my grandpa before him). We have a fairly unique last name, so we occasionally receive calls intended for other members of the family.
Early this morning, the phone rang and I picked it up. The conversation was as follows:
Elderly woman: MY FOOT!
Helen: ...Excuse me?
EW: It's horrible! There's so much pus and it's changing colours!
EW: You told me to change the dressing today, and I started to unwrap it and it smells horrible! I picked the scab off of it and...
Helen: I think you're looking for my uncle! This is his brother's house.
EW: WHAT? My foot is full of pus!
Helen: You want my uncle! Dr. Helen'sUncle.
Why she thought I was my uncle, I have no idea. After much back-and-forth, I directed her to his number (sorry, uncle J! It is in the phone book, after all) and she rang off.
A small-town doctor has nowhere to run.