Dr. Phillips is really awesome. Personable, honest and he likes Belgian Beer, so in my book, he's A-Okay. He did a quick look over my EMG and reiterated what the neurologist said. Damage to the ulnar nerve parallel to the break in my radius. It's not severed, so I just have to wait for it to grow back. So in about a year, I'll be able to feel the ends of my pinky and ring finger again.
So as I'm leaving the hospital, standing there waiting for the elevator, this elderly gentleman walks up and strikes up a conversation. We exchanged pleasantries until the elevator doors open, and as we board he asks if I'm a doctor at the hospital. I laugh and tell him no, I was in for a checkup on my broken arm, then I show him the scar. He was mightily impressed and said the they did a good job with it.
Turns out he was in for a 3 month checkup. Last year he had his cancerous prostate removed (at this point, my buttcheeks clenched and I could hear my prostate whimpering) and he had to come in every 3 months for some blood tests. So far he was okay.
The elevator got to the parking garage, and we both went our separate ways, but I ended up behind him in line to pay the parking guy... and the old fucker was smoking a cigarette! Dude! They had to cut out one of the essential parts that let you make your O face, and you're still smoking?! Did you learn nothing? Shit, I'd give up BREATHING if it would keep a scalpel away from that area of my body.
Some people never learn though.
The masses are asses.