As it turned out, it was a doctor who dodged a career-shaped bullet. There I was, transcribing a cardiology report when he did it; chucked a hand grenade straight into the middle of a history and physical.
“The patient,” chirped this southern physician, “has a refrigerator build.” Huh? What?
In that instant, I knew two things. One, the patient was not a female. And two, if it was, she wasn’t in the room at the time.
When no gunshots went off in the background and I heard no clanging of skillets or suspicious whacks from a rolling-pin-shaped object, I gathered my wits and finished the letter.
This tidbit sparked a lively discussion. One friend said, “I have a refrigerator build — toned muscles and a tight stomach from jumping off the couch and running to the fridge.”
Well, then. “Power to the people,” as they say, who work hard for that physique and love it.
Meanwhile, my own fridge remains under assault, there are still parameters for local gamers and I’ve gotten out of bed and returned to work. Which, over here, is not nothing.