One of the disadvantages of living in a building without a doorman is that you never know for certain whether you’ll receive any packages in the mail. Given that I am not home during daylight hours on every weekday, I can never be present to sign for a UPS/FedEx package.

I ordered an important textbook last week, and apparently the UPS carrier attempted to deliver it twice without success. The first time, he left a note on my apartment door stating that he will reattempt delivery tomorrow. I left a note on my door asking him to leave it with my neighbor or at my doorstep. The second day, he left a note OUTSIDE my building stating that he will reattempt one more time. Dammit.

I called UPS that evening to hold my package for pickup, but never received a callback. I called the central office, and they told me that the UPS center in my area (Bronx) doesn’t have working phones, but I could go by within the next 15 minutes to pick it up. Given that a direct cab ride to the service center would take at least 20 minutes, I told them to reattempt deliver to ANYONE in my building the next and final time.

Later that evening (9:30pm), I heard my doorbell ring. My hopes rose as I thought that the UPS carrier had doubled back on his delivery route.

Two teenage guys dressed in starched shirts and black pants and tie greeted me at my door. One was carrying a thick, leather-bound book with gold embellishments on the edges of the pages.

“Ni hao!” one of them exclaimed.

They must have understood my disgust through my body language, and handed me a card with an address to their establishment in town.

If the UPS man were only so fortuitous in his deliveries…

misc humor, rant

The community of patients that our ophthalmology clinic serves is notorious for providing bogus contact information. This includes phone numbers, addresses, and sometimes even ages. This is likely not intentional–they travel back and forth from their home country frequently. Many of them do not have a permanent U.S. address and provide a relative’s, friend’s, or neighbor’s when asked. This is problematic when we have to contact them.

For missed clinic appointments that is usually not a problem. They can reschedule at their own leisure, and there are usually enough patients to be seen in clinic already. Our surgical numbers, however, are dependent on our ability to reach our patients.

I had 2 patients that I’ve been trying to schedule for pterygium surgery, and none of their provided telephone numbers work. How can I reach them? I have a listed address on the demographic sheet, but should I go to their house to ask them to return to clinic for surgery?

Imagine that your doctor shows up at your doorstep to get you to have surgery. How would that feel? I wonder if he’d be treated like any other annoying traveling salesman hocking his wares.

I guess I’ll find out soon enough…

medicine ophthalmology, rant

The other day my laptop got “wormed” while I took down my firewall to do some software patches. I had forgotten to disconnect from the Internet, and after 30 mins of patching, my computer started acting weird. Before I knew it, a gazillion pop-up windows materialized on my desktop, and the computer became non-responsive, even after reboots. This is the one of the worst things that can happen to a computer literate user. I got hacked. This is what I get for not upgrading my copy of IE 6.0.

Sadly enough, the mirrored drive on my hard drive was not accessible (boot sector was hijacked), and I did not have a second computer to link up my laptop drive to recover some files. I spent the next 3 hours installing a non-IBM version of Windows XP and hunting Thinkpad drivers online. In the process of fiddling around, I discovered that my USB ports were blown–typical USB header on the laptop gets pushed back into the motherboard after long-term use. One of the capacitors were oozing as well.

Hardware and software failure almost inevitably means a new computer. What will my next computer be? Will it be a Mac? In the meantime, my computer is still functional, albeit in a limited form.

computing computing, rant

I recently watched The Hangover, a hilarious comedy about a bachelor party gone awry. There was a scene in which Zach Galifianakis was ridiculed for carrying a satchel by his friends. “You’re carrying a man-purse!”

That brought back some memories of my experience during my family medicine rotation during internship. I had carried a nylon briefcase from the AAO 2008 meeting to work and one of the FM sub-i students remarked, “Is that a man-purse? Whoa!”

Mind you, the AAO briefcases do not even compare in quality or in metrosexuality as the Timbuk2 messenger bag above. If I had my way, she would have gotten an “F” for insight. Clearly the philistine doesn’t know the difference between a briefcase and a messenger bag.

medicine medicine, rant

For the second time this week, I saw a sports vehicle with a handicap parking tag. It always amazes me that a disabled person can be capable of driving a fast sports car. Perhaps this is a reflection of my narrow-mindedness, but doesn’t it seem odd to see a Nissan 300Z (manual transmission) sport the universal man-in-wheelchair logo on its plates and rearview mirror?

While the rules that govern distribution of the handicap permit vary by state, the general qualifications are similar. I believe that you must meet one or two of the following criteria:

• Inability to walk at least 200 feet without stopping to rest
• Use of portable oxygen
• Diagnosis of NYS Class III or IV heart failure
• Diagnosis of COPD, either end-stage or severely limiting.
• Wheelchair bound

The list continues with about a dozen more criteria, but I don’t believe that any of those disabilities actually prevent you from being able to work a clutch on a fast car.

The driver of the Nissan 300Z was a middle-aged man wearing thick-cut jeans and a flannel shirt. He didn’t seem like the heart failure type, and he wasn’t obese either. He did, however, light up a cigarette on his way out of the car to the Papa John’s pizza store.

Ah, the luxuries we have in the U.S…

medicine medicine, rant