Dear Dr. B.; last year I did an all night drive to South of the Border just for to buy me some fireworks for to show my kids a good time on the 4’th of July. Maybe it was lack of sleep but it seemed a good idea to try to get a little play from a Roman Candle by holding it at the base and moving around as it fired. I lost a good deal of my right arm. My question is, what fireworks might you recommend for use with a prosthesis.

-Patriotic in Pawtuckett

Patriotic: Sometimes when the good lord blows the whistle to get everybody out of the gene pool, he’s not blowing hard enough. Either stay away from the fireworks entirely or hold them in your mouth this time. You might try this though; toast a few marshmallows over the Bar-B-Q on your hook. My great uncle Chester used to do that after he returned from WWI and us kids sure looked forward to it. It’s amazing how far a steel plate in your skull and six or seven liters of warm beer can do to a man’s ability to remember the conductive properties of a metal hook.

Doctor Bactine;
I’m fixing to get me one of them Dick Chenney type Ticker Kickers put in my chest. Can I still use the microwave? 

-Concerned about Gas Sation Burritos in Pennsacola

Concerned;
That depends on what you use the microwave for. Seriously, though, if it’s not the complicated digital kind and just has a twisty nob, you should be fine. You might concider a full body lead apron of the kind worn for multiple xrays when reheating, but not in a precautionary sense. I just kind of like picturing you in it. 

Dear Dr. Bactine;
Me and the husband are pale skinned redheads as is the kids. His Momma says sun screen is just a hoax concocted by the food and drug to get money out of you, and at $3.99 a bottle for the no name I’m hoping she’s right. We never used it when we was kids and have only minimal amounts of what may be skin cancer. What do you think? 

-Burning mad in Bumpus Parish

Burning;
There are plenty of things you never used when you were a kid besides sun screen. Computers, cable television, soap, and seat belts to name a few. Your mom never crashed the car bad enough to send you through the windshield and likewise there wasn’t a hole in the Ozone the size of Ohio floating over your head letting in enough UV rays to grow tails on your unborn grandkids. That being said, yes, sunscreen is pretty much of a hoax. SPF 40 my ass. You gonna tell me that white cream provides 40 times my normal skin’s protection and I still get a little red through it? If I didn’t wear it would I burst into flames like a vampire the moment I stepped outside? What’s the SPF on spackle, or a coat? In closing, do what you want. You will anyway.

Dear Dr. Bactine,
My eldest is off to Boy scout camp on a Church Scholarship and they want I should have my Doctor fill out his medical history, which I am forwarding to you on account of we ain’t seen a Dr. out these parts since Lem’s pole boat sank. 

-Congenitally Malformed in Honey Island Swamp Parish

Congenitally;
I am forced to send back your form, as my oath forbids me making statements such as these for patients I have not seen and do not know the medical history of. I recommend you fill it out yourself and sign it by closing your eyes, holding a pencil over the paper with one hand and sticking a fork in the toaster with your other, which should approximate a believable Doctor’s signature. It’s not like anyone at this camp will ever open the mail, let alone read or make use of these records. If half the rumors about Boyscout Camp are true you have lots more to worry about than some camp ‘nurse’ knowing about your son’s eczema, bedwetting or fatal peanut allergy.

Dr. Bactine;

We have a son, thirteen years of age. He don’t talk much since hitting his growth spurt wherein he went from 4 ft. 3 to 8 ft. 8 in a four month period, except for the screaming at night. His lower jaw has receded by a good six inches, his knees are swole as big as watermelons and a dark purple in color, his left eye has migrated to the side of his head and he seems to vibrate somewhat at most times. He will only take tapioca which he eats by the bucket with a little lime juice and he is constantly taking the Montgomery Ward catalogue out to the hayloft where you can hear him hollering sweet Jesus. What’s wrong with him? 

-Wondering in Spatula-by-the-Trench Parish.

Wondering;
There is nothing wrong with your boy a date wouldn’t clear up, which under the circumstances seems unlikely. And what the hell do you mean, a ‘good’ six inches? Hardly sounds good to me.

Well, gentle reader, that’s all the good Doctor can take this week. The trout are biting and there’s an oil drum of Jeagermeister with my name on it in the back of the dingy. If you don’t hear from me in a month let the Fish and Game know.

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