On a recent episode of a TV show, a doctor in 19th century New York had a man arrive on his doorstep who was obviously in some sort of distress. The doctor had no way of knowing, but the man had lost quite a few of his toes after an interlude with a rather sadistic shoe salesman. The diagnosis didn’t matter as the doctor knew just what to do.
The man of medicine turned to his wife and yelled, “Get me plenty of clean towels and hot water!”
Viewers like myself were amazed that despite the patient’s having no outward sign of having endured a nasty bunch of amputations, the doctor inherently knew the treatment would require clean towels and hot water. Viewers unlike myself probably didn’t notice and just wished they could enjoy the show without my constant piping up and taking issue with the dialogue and continuity.
There’s an interesting fact: TV doctors only have one of two choices when it comes to addressing any medical emergency. The first and most popular choice is the old standby of clean towels and hot water, or as it’s also known, the shave-and-a-haircut treatment option. Even the worst doctor would not treat a patient with dirty laundry and cold water, (there were exceptions made during the Tide epidemic of the late 1950’s).
The second treatment choice for TV doctors is a more recent development. TV physicians turn to whoever is helping them and urgently ask for something really technical, including a couple of medical abbreviations to jazz it up. Any modern TV doctor worth his salt will assess a situation and quickly demand something along the lines of “100 cc’s of epi and a goniometer, stat!”. Viewers will instantly recognize the authenticity of the dialogue because it was filled with stuff they don’t understand.
The last mandatory ingredient for successful treatment in TV medical emergencies then, is the third person. When clean towels and hot water are all that’s needed, the third party can be almost anyone, even a child or a well trained collie. In the case of more technical orders, the third person needs to have enough medical training to know what the doctor’s talking about, but not enough expertise to question he’s going to do with two speculums, an enema bag and a syringe full of morphine when the patient appears to be suffering from nothing more than a really bad hair day.
If no third party is available, the patient will most certainly die. Lacking clean towels and hot water, the doctor’s only choice is to reach out and gently close the eyelids of the deceased. In the event of a closed-eye death, he or she can pull a sheet over the face. In either case, it’s then time to say something really meaningful.
Roll credits.
1pointperspective 
That old cure-all of hot water and clean towels always makes me laugh.
Modern-day tv doctors also seem to have the fortitude to set aside their own struggles with personal demons just long enough to save the day, often with a cc or two of endearing quirkiness for extra measure.
My wife and I can’t watch medical dramas on TV because one of us is yelling at the screen or rolling our eyes too loudly at any given moment – such is life for healthcare professionals looking for entertainment.
From a struggling writer/blogger standpoint, I couldn’t stomach “The Big C” once Oliver Pratt’s character wrote a blog and became a wildly successful motivational speaker from it.
I’m just gonna cancel my cable and turn my TV into a planter. Lord knows what I’ll write about then.
Planters can be inspirational. I wrote and took down the post before we knew each other (in the blog-ical sense) wherein I took my houseplant Beatrice hostage, complete with photos. When I went back and looked at it later, I realized I had very much jumped the shark.
So, never mind what I said about planters being inspirational. Carry on!
I’m glad I read your entire comment; I was just about to start my next post on the exciting profile of the bedpan on the back window with the African violets in it.
I’m sure that would be Freshly Pressed. You should go with it.
Every time I walk into a doctor’s office I wonder “Is this the one that is going to be like Dr. House?” Only on TV do you get clean towels, hot water, a clear diagnosis and cure. Oh, and have you noticed they never show the follow-up episode when the patient is recovering at home at get the BILL. Now there’s a show!
My doctor stares at the screen of his tablet for much longer than he stares at me. I hope he’s got a screen saver of my prostate on that thing.
Hypochondriacs must have a love/hate relationship with medical dramas. They love it when they think they have the same disease as their favorite television star and hate it when their doctors aren’t as cute as their favorite television star.
Then they have to take careful notes during the commercials for all the prescription drugs which are advertised.
That’s an evening of television entertainment right there!
A physician I know told me that he has patients ask him to prescribe drugs they’ve seen in commercials, but they have no idea what illness they’re prescribed for. These people should stick with hot water and clean towels.
Talk about placebo for a mind.
I always sort of figured the clean towels and hot water were to clean up the mess after the patient died.
I always thought that doctors did their best work with a clean shave.
The Tide Epidemic of the late 1950s was a mistaken reaction due to the paranoia that was still prevalent in the United States in the wake of Senator McCarthy and the House Committee on Un-American Activities. This caused The Communist Control Act of 1954 to be used against a severe bloom of Karenia brevis, a tiny marine organism which caused the infamous Red Tide off the coast of Texas in 1958.
I was going to go into that, but wanted to keep the post under 15,000 words.
Are you a doctor? Or do you just play one on your blog… 😉
I’m just a humble physical therapist. On my blog, I play the part of the lovable, wise-cracking curmudgeon.
Doctors want the hot water and clean towels so they can clean up after they insert the goniometer. Wouldn’t you?
Silly Peg! A goniometer is a device for measuring joint angles, likes knees and hips. I guess you might need to do some cleaning up if you inserted one somewhere.
Serious? I thought you just made that up, Dr. Welby.
No. Dr. Phil’s requested items were actually fictional, though.
Agree 100%. After M*A*S*H, TV medicine went down the crapper.
Televised surgery in particular lacks rigor. If you plan to operate, you need to know a few terms other than “Clamp!”
And there’s WAY too much defibrillation on TV.
There should be a TV medical degree for actors, writers and directors. It’d be boring, but no worse than some of those hospital dramas.
Most medical dramas have medical consultants for the sake of realism. Most medical professionals got into the profession to work with the sick and injured – You’ve got to figure the ones who opt to work advising TV writers are pretty shaky as clinicians.
Yes! Clean towels and hot water! That’s what did it for them on MASH 🙂 But House, definitely raised the bar a little.
My only impression of House is that he limps wrong (PT opinion)
Do TV doctors ever actually use the clean towels and hot water? Or are they just trying to get the third person out of the way (“Okay, I’m going to sew this guy’s foot back on — while I’m doing that, why don’t you do a load of laundry?”).
Oh, and apparently I watch more TV than you, because there’s a third option: if the patient can’t breathe, the doctor will ask for a ball-point pen so he can do an emergency tracheostomy.
Statistics prove TV doctors are 4 times more likely to perform emergency tracheostomies with a ballpoint pen if Bic is one of the show’s sponsors.