Q: Is SARS a viral disease of humans?

A: Yeah, it's a virus that causes difficulty breathing and is occasionally fatal. Rarely fatal, but it happens. Happened. It was a big thing for a while there. All over Hong Kong. You might recall all those Asians in face masks all over the news. More so than usual.

Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome, that's what it means. You know a disease is serious if they include Severe in the name. AIDS doesn't even have that. AIDS. And that's a bad one. Calling it SAIDS would change everything, not only the pronunciation. Sounds like SADS. Don't know if people would take it seriously if we had called it SADS. Although people took SARS seriously despite it's ridiculous name.

I'm just now noticing the phrasing of your question. Most people would say "Is SARS a viral disease?" and stop right there. But you didn't stop. You had more to say. "Of humans," you said. Of humans. Odd thing to say.

Odder still was the way you said it. Cold. Blank. Monotone. Emotionless.

Tinny.

Like a robot. Like how a robot would say it.

I've always suspected that something was off about you. The way you never engage in small talk. They awkward way you move and dance and play basketball. The way sparks fly out of your head when we make love in the shower.

I guess I should have known. Something so perfect, so beautiful, could never be human.

Do not pretend to cough for my benefit.

Q: What does CRNP after nurses name mean?

A: In most cases, it means Certified Registered Nurse Practitioner, a lot of fancy words that mean a nurse has been trained and tested and knows enough about medicine to not kill someone when inserting an IV. That's in most cases. My case is different.

Those letters after my name don't mean anything. There's no acronym to decode, no riddle to solve. They're just a name. My name.

My name is Nurse Lisa CRNP.

My father swore off vowels after a disastrous appearance on The Wheel of Fortune. You've probably seen it. He really wanted that ceramic dog. He never really got over it.  The dog, that is. And his disastrous loss on the show. Nearly every day after school I would wonder home to find my father staring at an empty spot on the carpet, petting an imaginary ceramic dog, muttering, "I'd like to solve the puzzle, Pat. I'd like to solve the puzzle, Pat."

It wasn't the best childhood.

When I was 8, my father swore off vowels and changed our name from Curniape to Crnp. When I was 12 he turned against uncapitalized letters, after a incident at work involving the New York Times crossword puzzle. My mother wouldn't let him touch my first or middle name. "Who'd want to marry someone named NRS LS CRNP?" she said, "Who'd want to take that in? She's got enough problems already, Dan, what with the homeliness and the odor and the vacant stare. Give her a chance."

I didn't overhear that conversation, by the way. She said all that in my presence. Frequently. She worked it into toasts. And birthday cards. And conversations with strangers. Saving my name was the defining moment of her life.

It meant a lot to her that I was called a nurse, even if I didn't become one. More consumed with title than accomplishment, my mother. She named my older brother Doctor and my younger one Noted Ladiesman. They work in meat.

She would have loved for me to actually become a nurse. But it wasn't meant to be. I don't test well. And I can't remember anything. And sick people are the worst. All the moaning and crying and soiling the sheets. Who wants to deal with that?

I'm only in this hospital because of the weather. Can't stand the rain. I'm only in your father's room because someone a doctor said, "Nurse, come with me." Once I realized he wanted an actual, trained nurse I had already been helping him for twenty minutes and was too embarrassed to say anything.  In his defense he was probably confused by my outfit. And my name tag. But I look great in white. And the name tag saves me from the crippling awkwardness of introductions.

Look at me, talking your ear off.

You'll have to excuse me. Your father had a lot more blood in him than I expected and I need to figure out how to get it back in before the doctor comes back. He seemed like kind of a neat freak.

Q: Can you get TB Tuberculosis from touching surfaces or clothing of a infected person?

A: Of course not. What gave you such a silly idea? Just because I am sick with TB, along with your sister, your cousin, our maid, the dog, most of the fish, and even some of the plants does not mean it spreads so easily. Come on now, a disease that lives on counter tops and clothes? Is it spread by little wizards who stay behind and cast sickness spells on anyone who happens to cut meat or wash laundry? Do they have tiny little wands and tiny little pointy wizard hats? You have quite an imagination. Your mother would get a big laugh out of your crazy ideas, if she were still able to laugh. Or breath. Or live. We should probably taker her out back. She's starting to attract vermin.

I have no idea how it happened. One minute she was perfectly healthy, hand washing the sheets from my sick bed while I stood coughing in the corner. The next minute she had come down with TB and was soon coughing blood. Must have been something she ate.

Honestly, I have no idea how TB spreads. All I know is that your tiny wizard theory is laughable and will never be spoken of again. I am not a doctor. I will never be a doctor. I will never speak to a doctor. We'll deal with this outbreak the same way we deal with every problem we've ever faced as a family: Locking the doors, shutting off the lights and waiting until it's over. It got us through the LA riots, it got us through the Rapture, it got us through your uncle being gay, its good enough to get us through a series of strong chest colds. This too shall pass, son. Soon, we'll be on the mend, although it may be too late for some of the plants. And your mother, obviously. But the rest of us will be one big happy family soon. Now come over here and give me a hug.

Hold on a minute.

Ack! Ack! Ack!

 Huuuhhh-chuuuuk!

Eh. Eh. Eh.

Ugh.

Wheeeeew.

I always thought "coughing up a lung" to be a figurative term. At least we have something for dinner. Your mother was getting a bit gamy.

Q: Can you get addicted to both legal and illegal drugs?

A: You sure can!

Legal drugs are easier to get. Illegal drugs provide a quicker high. If you want to sleep walk through the work day keeping friends and co-workers and loved ones - especially loved ones. Know what I mean, fellas? (Most of the men are nodding. The ones who aren't nodding I assume to be not yet married or newly married.) - distant behind a wall of feel good fuzz and numbness, yet don't want to risk losing your job, legal drugs are the way to go. If being popular with strangers and staying up all night and feeling great about yourself sounds like your idea of a dream weekend, use illegal drugs.

If you want to be popular and disconnect emotionally from everyone around you, use both. There's a theory that suggests the best way to achieve popularity and lasting happiness is to avoid addictive drugs both legal and illegal. I doubt the proponents of this theory have ever been the guy with a pocketful of coke at 4AM when the party's threatening to die due to lack of drugs. Oh, the people you will meet and the places you will go.

As you might have guessed, I choose to be addicted to all drugs - crack, pot, booze, Adderall, Spice, PCP, Oxymorphone, caffeine, nicotine, and whatever horse tranquilizers I can scam from the vet techs in 5C - and I don't regret a minute of it. Not the nine-martini lunches, not sitting in the corner of the the club until the lights come on and I'm asked to leave, not the anonymous sex with ladies of dubious gender, not the restraining order filed by 5C, not the open weeping during conference calls, not the brawl with the bathroom mirror, not throwing the water cooler at Mr. Benson, not losing a fight to Mr. Benson, not the tazing or the pepper spray or the forced oral copulation in the holding cell, none of it. My life's been a non-stop party, and if you don't mind, your honor, I'd like to end this hearing right now and get back to it.

Q: Can you commit suicide with antibiotic pills?

A: I take antibiotics to fight my bronchitis. They'll make me better in now time. I have no intention of killing myself. I'm going to be around for a long time.

You seem disappointed. Actually, that makes a lot of sense.

I've begun to notice how you always mention how the wood beams in my ceiling look strong.  "Strong enough for a man to hang himself," you always say with a wink and a smile and a nudge in the ribs. I'm beginning to understand your meaning. And your yearly Christmas gift: enrollment in a noose-making class. Always thought that was a gag gift.

Then there's those scrapbooks you make, full of picture after picture of my ex-girlfriends, with your little handwritten notes  like "She looks better than ever," and "Her new boyfriend probably packs a big one," and "You'll probably never be as happy as when you were with her. What's the point of living?" I assumed they were some sort of dry joke that I just didn't get.  I might have been wrong.

You have been encouraging me to have a lot of "bath toast" lately, which can't possibly be a real thing no matter how many fake websites you send me as proof. I suspect you created those websites. Every one is a GeoCities site. That's clue number one.

Clue number two is you sign your own name.

I thought you were my friend. Why would you want me to kill myself?

Oh.

I guess having an awesome eulogy is as good a reason as any.

Q: What is a class three surgical candidate?

A: Class three surgical candidates suffer from chronic diseases that, while painful, are not immediately life-threatening. Class three surgical candidates can often avoid surgery with changing to a healthier diet and committing to regular exercise.

Class two surgical candidates suffer from acute diseases that are painful and life-threatening. Class two candidates would benefit from immediate surgery but can also choose less-invasive procedures like radiation or experimental medication.

Class one surgical candidates are on the verge of death and require immediate surgery to repair the heart or the spleen or whatever is bleeding.

Your cat doesn't fall into any of the normal surgical categories, but a new category of my own creation called Class SuperPlus One.

SuperPlus One surgical candidates are sick past the point where surgery can help them, or, as in the case of your cat, have been dead for over 4 hours. Such candidates require immediate surgery to replace their heart, lungs and limbs with parts from an old robot I found in my father's basement after he passed away.

I'm going to be honest. I can't promise that my experimental surgery will bring your cat back to life and allow him to become the cybernetic RoboCat of your dreams, but I can promise you it will be awesome to watch me try.

Q: What are the business processes in hospital?

A: When a new patient arrives for treatment, whether for a rodent-rectum emergency or a common elective like mole removal, we have him fill out a complicated admissions form designed to promote an immediate sense of inferiority, letting the patient know that he is in the presence of experts far more dedicated, disciplined and learned than he could ever be; we find making the patient feel stupid and insignificant prevents him from questioning our methods later. Among these admissions forms we hide waivers to prevent malpractice lawsuits.

Once the patient has filled out the admission stack, already questioning his right to even be among such intellectual giants, occasionally stammering, body trembling,  we make sure he can pay. The last thing we'd want to do is spend hours and hours performing life-saving medical procedures only to get stiffed on the bill. The desire to help people and Hippocratic Oaths are just terrific ideas, but you can't buy a summer home in the Hamptons with good will.

After admittance, we stick the patient in refurnished supply closet, (billed as a "private room" costing at $2,750 a day), wheel in every working machine not currently in use, (making sure not to double up on machines - the swifter patients tend to notice), pump the patient full of the newest and most expensive drugs, (a sedated patient is a happy patient), send in every expert and intern available, (all with individual consultation fees), and order the widest variety of tests possible, (tests which require the most lab time to get results being preferable).

By this point, the patient will have been a tenant for at least a week and, thanks to bed rest, an abundance fluids, and time away from his soul-crushing job, will start to feel better. We prescribe the newest drug from the pharmaceutical company that gives us the largest kick back, load the patient with crutches, ace bandages and bedpans, and send him on the way.

Three days later we send him the bill. At this point he will require the services of one of our psychiatrists. They  bill by the hour.

Q: What kind of pain medication do they use for knee problems?

A: Typically something like Ibuprofen, Naproxen or Celecoxib. If you have a good-sized tolerance for meds, they might give you something stronger, like Tramadal or Hydrocodone. If you're real lucky, or you know somebody, you might be able to score some Morphine.

None of those options will work for you.

To suffer knee pain, you need to have a knee. You don't have a knee. Not anymore. What you're feeling is what they call "phantom pain." It's not real. It could go away in a minute, could last you rest of your life, hard to say.

That guy tore your leg right off. We all heard the snap from the sideline and assumed it was bad. We never expected it to be this bad. You, here, on the ground. Your leg, over there in the linebacker's hand. Our scouts were right. That guy is a beast. I've never seen such animal ferocity on a football field. I hate to say this, but in your condition there's little chance you'll remember, but I kind of admire that guy. It's like he doesn't even care that he's crippled a man for life. What dedication.

And now he's eating your leg. They should probably test that guy for drugs.

I'm sure you're in a lot of pain now, but as I said most of it is phantom pain. The pain will go away, the scars will heal, someday you might even walk again - I hear today's prosthetics are incredible - but no matter what happens, you'll always have the memory of scoring a touchdown in the Rose Bowl.

Damn it, I just saw the flag.

All right, enough with the speeches. I can't think of much else to say and you probably can't hear me, judging by the blood coming out of your ears. We need to get you off the field and to the hospital, and fast; the halftime show is about to start.

Q: What are the 5 things the determine personal health?

A: A healthy lifestyle depends on:

1.) Eating a balanced diet, low in sodium, sugar and fat.
2.) Exercising daily.
3.) Refraining from smoking, drug use or drinking alcohol.
4.) Getting plenty of sleep, at least 8 hours a day,
5.) Not having an alien gestating in your rib cage.

You were so close.

Q: What nerves are involved in drinking?

A: You misunderstand. I need a drink to steady my nerves. That's what I said.

Honestly, I'm surprised you heard me. The anesthesia should have taken effect by now. You need more gas.

Wow, my hands are so shaky I can't get a grip on the valve. Look at them. I'm not shaking them on purpose, I'm trying to keep them steady. They've never been this bad.

Of course I've repaired a spleen before. That's not why I'm nervous.

For a guy without insurance, you sure ask a lot of questions.

Calm down, calm down. One drink and I'll be fine. Just give me one second to -

Ha. Will you look at that? I can't even unscrew this bottle of Jack. I'd ask you to help, but I don't want to undo your restraints. My nurse took a john out to her car. I can't tie you back up without her. She's really good with knots. Kind of her thing.

Damn, I really need this whiskey. What if I ...

Fuck.

I hope I didn't get any glass in your eye. I didn't expect the bottle to shatter like that. I thought I could knock the the top off, but keep the bottle intact. Maybe next time. We may have to cancel your surgery, I'm afraid -
Wait, don't move. There's a puddle of whiskey on your stomach. Stay very still. This might be enough.

You're not ticklish, are you.

Aaaaaahhhhhhhh. That hit the spot. And look, no more shakes. All right, let's crank the gas, get you out and take out that spleen.

Repair the spleen. That's what I said. What did you think I said?

Why would I take out your spleen? You're not making any sense. Time for more gas!

Hmmm. The tank's empty. I must have used it all up before you got here. I get nervous before I meet new patients. There's some real weirdos out there. Lucky for you, I have a back up anesthetic. This hammer. Don't move.

Now, which one is the spleen?

Q: What is the first step taken when commencing first aid on a conscious adult?

A: First, calm down. Then, stop screaming.

Please stop screaming. It's just a paper cut. There's no need to freak out and cause a scene. It's just a little paper -

- Oh dear.

That's not good. 

You can start screaming again.

Q: What are ways of protecting your circulatory system?

A: You can eat well, exercise frequently, abstain from drugs and alcohol, sleep 10 hours a day, drink plenty of water, avoid trips to Africa or India, stay out of the sun, and generally live a plain, boring, safe life.

Or, you can do what I did: build an exo-skeleton. Now my circulatory system is well protected, as is my skin, my skeletal system, my vital organs - such as my spleen (the spleen is very important and should always be safe-guarded) - my teeth, my hair, my eyes - everything. Literally everything.

I suggest you build one for yourself. It might take years of hard work, but in the long run, you'll save yourself a lot of worry. My exo-skeleton makes me feel bullet-proof!

Because I am. I'm also knife-proof, grenade-proof, spear-proof, arrow-proof and even shark-proof. Nothing can hurt me. I'm invincible!

If you do decide to build one for yourself, I suggest you made some modifications to my design.

Don't use concrete. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it's very heavy. And coarse. Once it hardened, it became impossible to move. Or leave. Looks like I'm stuck in this thing forever.

Which brings me to my next mistake: include some plumbing. Really wish I had thought of that.

Also, include some air holes. You're going to want those.

Q: What are the exercises that can help you build muscle strength?

A: You can lift free weights, or use the universal machine. Dumb bells work well, too.

Or, you could lift this car off me. That would build a lot of strength. This car is very heavy.

And it would save my life. This car is very heavy. It's crushing me.

I'm sorry, I don't have any free weights. Or dumb bells. Or heavy rocks.

You're right, any of those would help you build muscle strength. And fast.

What I do have is this car. This car on top of me. This heavy car on top of me, crushing my sternum, likely causing massive internal bleeding. Have I mentioned the weight of the car? I just wanted to make sure,  because it's very heavy.

And I'm very woozy.

This car must weigh a ton. This heavy, heavy car - the one on top of me. You'd probably look like Superman after you lifted it off me. You'd feel like him, too, because you will have saved my life.

Have I mentioned that I'm trapped under this car?  And that the car is very heavy?

I don't know what's in the car. I guess there could be a Perfect Push Up or one of those Shake Weights in the trunk. It's hard to say. I can't open the trunk from here. Because I am trapped. Under. The. Car.

I have no idea where to find a gym. I am not a navigator, nor a map, nor a personal trainer. I am a man. A man trapped under a car. A heavy, heavy car.

Have you even considered my suggestion?

Lifting the car off me. I've said it four or five times.

This car. The one on top of me.

Can't you at least try? Would it kill you? Please?

Thank you. I know you can do it. Just bend your knees and -

Oh, I feel it moving. It's lighter. I can -

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I assumed you understood that when I suggested lifting the car off me, you would allow me to get out from under it, and not drop it back down on my pelvis.

But you now what they say: When you assume you end up being an ass with a shattered pelvis.

I'm paraphrasing. I think. It's hard to tell.

I'm in pretty bad shape here.

Q: What should you put on a rash?

A: Son, remember when I woke you up in the middle of the night and told you not to worry but we had to leave now, right now, and we ran out of the house and you asked what happened to Mom and I told you to keep running and not to worry and we ran down the street and past all those people on the ground and you asked if they were sleeping and I told you to keeping running and not to worry and that man jumped out of the woods and you asked why his face looked like that and I told you to keep running and not to worry and he bit you and I shot him and I told you to keep running and not to worry?

Well, now it's time to worry.

Q: What is the best way to flush THC out of your body?

A: I really can't say. I'm not the THC expert you take me as. You're probably confused. 

You probably think you're still talking to your friend Will, still pulling over to the side of the road, freaking out, trying to hide the weed before the cop gets to the car. 

I want you to do something for me: Take a look to your right and tell me who you see. Who's sitting right there next to you?

That's right, it's your friend Will. Now, take a moment, think this over - who does that make me? I'm not Will, so I must be the ...?

Nope, not Smokey Bear. You're just saying that because of the hat.

Take another guess. Look lower. You'll notice I have a badge, as well as a gun. Who does that make me?

That's right! I'm the cop who pulled you over. Good job! Now, do you know why I pulled you over?

No, it wasn't to say hi. I pulled you over because you drove through that farmer's market - that's right, the one that smelled like cookies - and ran over 4 people. You would have hit more, but you were only driving 6 miles per hour. Most people saw you coming. 

I'm going to go out on a limb and say you might have been driving impaired. You're in some trouble. I'm gonna need to draw some blood, to determine just how much trouble we're talking about.

Calm down now. Don't try to drive away. That's not going to work. I want you to do me another favor: Take a look beneath you, behind you. What do you see?

That's right! A bench and a room full of criminals. Did you have those in your car? 

No, you didn't. Which means you're not in your car, but in the  ... ? 

That's right! Police station. You're in the police station. So it's probably a little too late to worry about flushing those drugs out of your system. It's probably time to get a lawyer.

That's not your lawyer. That's a plate of chocolate chip cookies. My wife made them. They're for everyone. Please stop eating them. 

Q: How much weight can you lose in a week?

A: Ever since I reached adulthood and stopped growing vertically; I have grown horizontally - then shrunk, then grown again, then shrunk, shrunk more, grown again, and again, still more growing, then a large dramatic shrink ... I could go on like this for hours; let's just say that I have experienced significant fluctuations in weight over the past 20 years.

With a strict diet and vigorous exercise, I once lost 20 pounds in a week. To celebrate, I ate a whole pizza while bathing in caramel. To my surprise, the weight came back.

One time I lost 6 pounds in a day, simply by removing my soiled pants. Here's a hint: If you take a girl home from a bar with the intent of performing the sex act with her, don't tell her that story. She will not be impressed. Showing her the pants will only amplify her horror.

A few years back, I lost 38 pounds in three minutes, without diet, exercise or removing any clothes, when a shark bit my leg off. As a result of the attack, the Boston Aquarium now bans visitors from chumming the water. At least some good came of the attack, in addition to the weight loss.

Q: How do you heal a Ripped off nail?

A: Keep the wound clean, change the bandage three times a day, avoid working with your hand for a few weeks. If you follow those simple steps, your nail will be back to normal before you know it.

But, when it comes to nail care, the best treatment is prevention. In the future, when you turn into a werewolf, you might consider staying at home to enjoy a quiet night by yourself, instead of running into town, terrorizing villagers, mauling everyone you see with your razor sharp claws. The villagers have are aware of your transformation cycle. They've been paying attention. They can know when the moon will be full, giving them ample lead time to construct replica villagers made out of stone. Those stone villagers can be murder on your nails.

Q: Does blood pump only from an atrium to a ventricle?

A: That's how it's supposed to work. In theory.

Of course, everything works in theory: Communism, hoverboards, long distance relationships. Unfortunately, we don't live in theory, we live in reality, a place where the unexpected becomes the norm, where selfish competition and laziness rule, where romantic partners who live across the country are likely to grow lonely and seek comfort in the arms of attractive co-workers, where skateboards need wheels to go anywhere.

Also found in reality: kitchen knives. Knives that, when plunged into the human chest over and over, disrupt the theoretical function of the heart. Instead of pumping blood from an atrium to a ventricle, a heart full of kitchen knife is likely to pump blood all over the kitchen floor.

There is a lesson here: the heart is a fragile instrument and the slightest interference can create unexpected complications.

Another lesson: when your wife asks if you would sleep with her sister "in theory," say "No" and move on with your life. Don't shout "Yes! Yes! Yes! For the love of God, Yes!" Don't go into graphic detail about your fantasies. And whatever you do, don't show your wife diagrams of potential lovemaking positions that you have drawn on napkins, place mats and envelopes over the years.

Q: What medicines were available in medieval times?

A: In the event of illness - any illness, from a high fever to a severed thumb -  the medieval barber covered his patient with leeches to ensure a good bleeding.

If the patient remained ill, the barber removed the leeches, then prayed.

If the prayer failed, he reapplied the leeches, restarted the bleeding and resumed his prayers.

If the combination of the prayer and the bleeding failed, the barber poured spirits over the patient's body and smacked him in the face with the Bible.

At this point, the barber had reached the limits of medical technology. If the patient remained ill, the barber set him on fire, seized his property as payment, claimed his wife as a concubine and enslaved his children as serfs.Then he would take the whole family to a local castle where they would drown their sorrow with mead,  watch knights joust, eat cornish hen, and try to forgot about the sudden death of their loved one.

In modern times, you can enjoy a similar experience by taking your family to a popular theme restaurant. That restaurant is called McDonald's.

You have to supply your own knights. And your own cornish hen. And your own mead.

McDonald's will supply the sorrow.

Q: How much money does an osteopathic Neurologist earn?

A: If successful, and renowned, an osteopathic Neurologist can earn a salary in the high six figures. But becoming an successful and renowned osteopathic Nuerologist is not as easy as you may think. You need years of schooling, advanced medical degrees, decades of experience, dozens of articles published in leading medical trades and a sterling reputation as one of the leaders in your field.

You have none of those.

All you have is an ice-cream scoop, a hand saw and a fascination with brains.

Oh, and that creepy grin. I forgot about that.