This pertains to a certain client I had in the clinic this week. Mr "Smith" was in for his appointment, so I took his vital signs, and ushered him into a patient room where his wife insisted that she join him. Everytime I asked him a question about history, medications, allergies, etc. his wife answered. When I finally got to the part where I asked him the reason for his visit, his wife answered.
"TRT." She said, with her chin up.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what that stands for," I said, finding no results for TRT in the reason for visit search engine.
"Well, we do," the wife answered sharply, daring me to question her again. I did.
"Well, I don't, and the computer isn't coming up for a result for the abbreviation."
"How about you figure out a way to enter in that information. Put TRT and that's all. It is completely unnecessary for you to know what it stands for." I shrugged my shoulders, entered in the information and left as quickly as possible. As I was leaving, I took another look at the patient who let his wife answer nearly every question for him, and didn't keep her from her rude tone. Then I realized that our head nurse practitioner had mentioned that some man was coming in this week for a hormone imbalance. Aha, TRT... Testosterone Replacement Therapy. I think maybe the problem was that the wife needed some ERT...Estrogen Replacement Therapy.
Here's my next pic, to illustrate a rude moment of mine.
I got to enjoy a birthday dinner with Krystal, my adopted sister. : ) Afterwards, I was trying to make conversation with some of the other peeps, including future coworkers, and I started talking to Ryan. I said, "Ryan, you know what? You should totally start brainstorming for how to design our Fall Getaway t-shirts for this fall. We've got to make them really awesome this year, because the ones in the past have really sucked."
He looks at me, and says, "Even last year's?" *warning bells... warning bells*
"Oh yeah, definitely." (Last year's shirt is modeled on me. Really not too bad, but the brown color, matching our monk theme, is rather drab. Ryan, I apologize again if you ever read this).
"I designed that shirt." uh oh. I debated briefly whether I should immediately apologize for sticking my foot in my mouth, but some crazy desire to not seem lame overcame me, as dangerously as a flash flood.
"Oops. Well we all have to start somewhere, eh? There's nowhere to go but up!" Yeah... not very smart. Ryan asked some girls around us whether the shirts were that bad, and though they tried to say that the design was nice and it was mostly the color that sucked, it didn't go very well. I ended up leaving right afterwards, trying to flee the awkwardness. But it kept me awake, so I wrote him an apology letter, which he graciously answered quickly with forgiveness.
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