Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Bringing Down The House
OK, I realize that in the order of things this is really small stuff. But I must have my say. Having watched (why, oh why do I persist?) "House, MD" last night, I conclude that if they ever had medical advisers, they must all have been fired, quit, or -- more likely -- committed suicide.
There was the usual leitmotif of erroneous diagnosis, treating for some disease and discovering another. There was the added sub-plot of women too old to do it, running around wearing thongs, or no underwear at all. (The import being too ridiculous to elaborate.) And the ducklings (what are they? residents?) as usual are doing things that no medical people would be doing: operating MRI machines, and drugging their mentor and biopsying several body parts. (What drugs can do that, by the way? Is there something you could put in coffee that would knock a person out cold in three minutes -- is there such a drug at all, let alone one that wouldn't be tasted?)
But the final straw was seeing Dr House once again barge into an operating room, hatless, maskless, gowned and gloved. The only way you can get gowned and gloved is if the scrub nurse helps you (ain't no sterile stuff like that sitting around outside the OR, at least not readily available), and no nurse would allow it. Not to mention the surgeons standing by dumbly while the guy reaches into their patient and pulls out a key in two seconds. Like Jack Horner. Like the surgeons were too dumb to have... Sigh.
It's not that I should care. But since reality is driving me crazy of late, it'd be nice if a simple attempt at escapism didn't make me want to slit my throat.