No Filters

 I was kicked out of more classes than most people attended. It was always “Benny, normal people don’t do that” or “Benny, go wash your mouth out with soap. Foul language is not allowed in this classroom!”

I couldn’t help it. I was missing some sort of filter. The words would just spontaneously fall out of my mouth. They seemed natural. I didn’t mean to offend anyone when I grabbed my crotch. It was an involuntary spasm, just like my blinking and grimacing. The kids in grade school were brutal. They just didn’t understand. I probably made it worse when I’d beat the shit out of them when they made fun of me. It isolated many potential friends. Yet my foul jokes, boyish smile and unfiltered mouth were a hit with the girls Go figure! Unlike most guys I would tell them exactly what I was thinking and what I wanted to do, and they loved it! They thought my tics were cute.

Of course, there was James and Teddy. They were my best buds. We had many misadventures over the years. They would laugh at my harebrained ideas but always went along with them. I wouldn’t say they were followers. Both have had successful professional careers as a doctors. They were more enablers. James was the silent handsome type. Tall, athletic and swarthy, he was considered a heartthrob. I know he was pissed that he’d attract the girls and I’d walk away with them. He was too nice a guy and sort of shy. I guess I’m just an asshole. Teddy was the real brain. He was smarter than any of us. Always first in the class, he could do anything well. He played a mean guitar, wrote poetry and had a damned good singing voice. His flaming red hair and great laugh made him stand out in the crowd. He loved adventures and always added interesting twists and suggestions to make my ideas more daring and fun.

One of my favorite memories of grade school was a soccer game. I was kicked out of Mr. Petlock’s grade eight class for swearing, talking out of turn or some other misdemeanor. There were so many, I can’t remember. Well, there were at least six of us from different grades who were ejected from our respective classes. We had a soccer ball and all we needed was a couple more guys to have a respectable game in the schoolyard. I didn’t think twice about knocking on Mr. Petlock’s classroom door and very nicely asking:

“Can you let James and Teddy come out and play? We need two more players for a soccer game.”

Part of me knew that it was inappropriate, but I couldn’t help myself. Despite my nervous blinking. I maintained my angelic smile. The class erupted with laughter. By this grade almost everyone found me entertaining. Teddy and James rose from their seats and Mr. Petlock kicked them out. We had a good game lasting most of the afternoon. Mr. P. really was a good guy. I think deep down he was amused. It didn’t hurt that the three of us consistently had the highest grades on most tests. You see, that has been my get out of jail free card. I did well in school despite my many misdemeanors. Teachers and principals repeatedly told me I was wasting my talents and possibly ruining my life with my behavior. It didn’t stop several colleges from offering me scholarships. However, it probably did turn off the Ivy league schools that Teddy and James attended. The university of Illinois was good enough for me. Besides, they had a good wrestling program. Oh yeah, I’m five foot eight and have been lifting weights and wrestling since I was ten. Some would say that I am muscle bound. I guess I have short man syndrome and have compensated for all the teasing I experienced at a young age.

The three musketeers were apart for six years. Teddy was at Harvard and James was at Stanford. We all were accepted to our respective schools’ medical program. Teddy and James breezed through medical school with top marks. I, on the other hand, had to work my ass off just to stand somewhere in the middle of the class pecking order. All that hard work prevented me from acting out too much. My classmates were too busy to notice my tics are us act. My occasional outbursts in the front of the class just seem to break the tension of the day-to-day grind. My classmates loved my daily act of crushing a soda can on my forehead and doing a little jig just before our professor arrived. The girls of course thought I was cute and didn’t mind my ‘potty mouth’. Professors ignored my profane outbursts most of the time. I tried to restrain myself as best as I could but not always successfully. I really wanted to be a doctor and didn’t want to be kicked out of medical school. Still there was the time our dermatology professor asked the class for a definition of acne. My answer of ‘backed up sperm’ drew gasps from my classmates. Fortunately, the professor ignored me and chose another classmate’s answer. Dr. Sebaceous always struck me as a young stuffy guy in an expensive suit.  I didn’t think he had a sense of humor but maybe I was wrong.

To my surprise, at the end of medical school, I was accepted to the Harbor General Internal Medicine program in Torrance California. It was a prestigious UCLA affiliated residency. James and Teddy had their pick of programs but decided to reunite with me. James chose the Harbor General orthopedic surgery residency and Teddy their radiology program. I was thrilled. The boys were back together again and in Southern California. Let the fun begin! We rented a three-bedroom apartment three blocks from the ocean in Manhattan beach. I had my wingmen. With James’ looks, Teddy’s brain and my mouth, I knew the good times would roll. I didn’t account for how time consuming and exhausting our training programs would be. There was little time for partying or adventures. It did not stop me from having fun with patients. Harbor General was a county hospital and catered to the indigent. Medical residents had more autonomy than at a private hospital, It was perfect for a rebel like me. Attendings appreciated my work ethic and knowledge base and ignored my outbursts. In fact, some seemed amused. The drug user patients and gang members spoke my language. I could drop F-bombs and tell them inappropriate jokes and they seemed to love it. I had finally found the perfect audience. Take that, Mr. Petlock and my grade school doubters! In this world, if I worked hard and had good outcomes, no one seemed to care about my tics or unfiltered mouth. With these patients, I could use my full off-color vocabulary. I’d dispense with the politically correct anatomical words such as penis or vagina. F that! I was finally among my people and spoke their language. No sexual joke or story was off limits. I found an audience that appreciated my talents. The white coat and stethoscope gave me cover and respectability. Something I never thought I’d get.

Three years of training passed quickly. I was having fun. The boys and I threw many spectacular parties on the beach. Outside of the hospital, I did not have to restrain myself. I was Benny unchained. Even though the patients did not object to my language or tics, I knew I had I had to control my mouth in front of our attendings. It was easier said than done. The odd f-bomb and inappropriate comment just fell out of my mouth occasionally. Also, I couldn’t control my tics are us circus. Some of my female attendings looked appalled when I grabbed my crotch, but I couldn’t help it. Still, my hard work and smile would win them over.

It was all going well until my final year. I had the idea of a lifetime, or so I thought. Late one night, James, Teddy and I would roller skate through the hospital. We would perform a mock code in the ICU, do a cancan in the emergency room and race down the hallways. James’ girlfriend, Lori, would videotape us and we would show the film to each of our graduating classes at the end of the year. The director of my program had asked me to perform some sort of skit for the ceremonies. He opened pandora’s box!

That evening, I was on call for the medical ICU and James for the surgical ICU. I didn’t see any problems managing an emergency on roller skates. If necessary, I could remove them. James was not as comfortable with the plan but as always, he was a good sport. At 7 pm we strapped on our skates in the ‘on-call’ room, donned our white lab coats and flew into the hallways. Lori, a petit fourth year medical student, recorded every twist and turn. The nurses in the ICU were giggling and cooperative. As we performed a mock code on a comatose gang member. We had to skate out of the area in a hurry when the fat Grinch of a head nurse appeared. Someone obviously ratted on us. We were down in the emergency room performing a cancan with their staff when the receptionist told me that my program director was on the line. Oh shit! The fat Grinch had tattled. James looked nervous and immediately took off his skates, but Teddy continued to dance with the nurses. He was our best skater and always knew his brains and reputation made him untouchable. Down deep, I knew, I didn’t have that luxury. My residency program was not Mr. Petlock’s class. When I took the receiver from the receptionist, I gave her my best smile. Inside I was shaking. Dr. Liebling’s baritone voice was loud and clear.

“Benny, this time you’ve gone too far. Stop this foolishness and see me in my office in the morning before rounds.”

I considered my options and almost dropped an f-bomb but bit my lip for a few seconds before saying: “Yes sir!”

James and Teddy knew something was wrong because I was blinking and grimacing uncontrollably.  As my oldest friends, they knew it was a sign of extreme anxiety and dread. Teddy skated over to me and put his arm around my shoulders and tried to comfort me by saying: “We’ll get through this Benny. We always do.”

I shook my head. Maybe I had gone too far. I really wanted to be a doctor.

The next day, Dr. Liebling, a tall thin balding man in a white lab coat met me in the reception area leading to his office. It was empty but several employees were setting up for the day. As we walked, he loudly berated me.

“Benny, what you did was inappropriate and irresponsible. Not only did you break hospital rules, but you endangered patients. Weren’t you on call? What if there had been a real code? Did you get permission from the comatose patient or his family to make a mockery of his condition or care? I’m not sure the hospital will cover any suits filed against you. It could ruin your career and life. Alright let’s go intomy  office and decide what to do about you.”

His last words almost made me incontinent but instead I was blinking and grimacing wildly. I couldn’t control the f-bombs exploding from my mouth. I was in deep doo-doo. I took a seat in front of Liebling’s desk after closing the door. He sat and just stared at me for a few minutes before shaking his head and saying.

“Benny, Benny, we always knew you were a loose cannon, but we knew you cared about the patients and had good judgment… until now. Everything I said in the reception area is true. Fortunately, so far, the only complaints we have received have been from Mrs. Grinchley. If you’re lucky, no other people will come forward. I’ve told Mrs G, I will discipline you. You’re losing your last week of vacation. Don’t ever pull something like that again. You could lose your medical license at the very least. Now that we have that out of the way, tell me how it felt skating down those long hallways? You’re lucky the Er docs are good sports. They put in a good word for you and said they had lots of fun. No ICU nurse felt that you endangered any patient and a few giggled as they were interviewed. The video might make a good end of the year presentation for the graduating class. You’re lucky that I have a good sense of humor and have a son with Tourette’s.”

Tourette’s? What? Oh my God! I have Tourette’s! It makes total sense. After all these years of f-bombs and tics, I never put it together.

 I was so stunned, I just nodded and left the office. The day passed quickly. I couldn’t wait until I shared the news with the boys. I have Tourette’s and we are home free! To my surprise, Teddy just laughed and said: “What else is new?”

I was puzzled and asked: “What do you mean?”

Teddy shrugged his shoulders and said: “After reading my first psych text, I knew you were a textbook case. What was the point of telling you? It wouldn’t change anything. You’ve always used it to your advantage. It probably helped you skate Scott free this time as well.”

Teddy didn’t know the extent of it until a few weeks later. I was paid several hundred dollars by the residency program for the videotape and voted resident of the year. Pretty f-in good!