My son is a freshman in high school and is on the rowing team, which is a new sport for all of us. I think he likes the fact that this is one of the few sports I know nothing about — other than what I read in The Boys in the Boat — and therefore I can’t give him any helpful advice. This may come as a shock to some of you, but he seems not to particularly care for my undoubtedly extremely helpful tips and pointers as to how he can better himself in any number of areas in his life. His loss.

An email recently went around to all parents of the rowers on my son’s team asking for volunteers to “drive a launch” at the upcoming spring regattas. Now, I had no idea what “a launch” is. I thought it was a truck with a trailer that hauls around the boats. So I volunteered. Why not?

It wasn’t until a few days later that I discovered that a launch is actually a mini-catamaran that coaches use during practice and referees/marshals use during the regattas. They use volunteers to zip the referees around on the water during the races. Once I realized that, I was totally in. I had one training session on how to drive the launch (I still have no idea why it’s called that) and then went live last Sunday. I had no idea what I was doing.

Fortunately, despite the frigid temps, the marshal I was responsible for motoring around was very nice, and we had a fun morning out on the lovely Schuylkill (pronounce it with me: “SKOO-kill”) River, yelling at rowers and getting them lined up correctly at the starting area. Here’s a picture of me hard at work along the famous Boathouse Row.

(Here comes the segue.)

Today we, ahem, launch something new at CMEpalooza (did you see what I did there?)

(note from Scott: Unfortunately, I did. We have, ahem, sunk to a new low. Did you see what I did there?)

The people have spoken and you are requesting, nay demanding, a CMEpalooza podcast. And we have heard you and responded. Kind of. There is a CMEpalooza podcast now, but it is basically just an archive of the audio from previous sessions. And for right now, it’s just the audio from the very first CMEpalooza back in 2014 as part of our 5-year anniversary celebration. It’s a work in progress, and we’ll be gradually adding the rest of the sessions over the next few weeks. Like driving the launch on Sunday, I really don’t know what I’m doing, but you’re all nice people and hopefully this will turn out fine, too.

Will we ever turn it into an actual podcast with original content updated on a regular basis? I don’t know. We’ll see. For now, this is what we have. Here are the links if you want to subscribe. Or you can just search for “CMEpalooza” in either Apple or Google podcasts.

Apple podcast (I can’t get the stupid Apple podcast badge to work, so here’s the link)

A few years ago, I tried to talk a few colleagues of mine into presenting a session at a live conference entitled something like “Humor in Medical Writing.” They laughed me off. (Insert rimshot).

“What exactly is funny about medical writing?” they asked. “Wouldn’t this session last like, I dunno, 20 seconds or so?”

Instead of grumbling and arguing, I let those crumbums burst my bubble and shelved the idea. Temporarily.

But dammit, there have been too many funny things happening to me lately professionally to simply let it go forever. And so today, we step aside from our usual veiled promotion for CMEpalooza Spring (it’s coming up in about a month for those of you who care, on Wednesday, April 17) so that we can all share a recent (ha ha) #CMEstory.

There were about 3 or 4 I had to choose from, but this is the one I settled on:

A few months ago, I flew down to Florida to oversee the filming of a series of enduring activities. For one of the broadcasts, our faculty – a pair of rheumatology nurse practitioners – were discussing a case involving a new patient that had recently come to one of their practices. Let’s listen in.

“Today’s case involves a 15-year-old male who presented with joint pain of approximately 1 year’s duration that has recently worsened. He is in good general health overall and had no unusual childhood illnesses to speak of.

During our initial exam, the patient noted about an hour of daily morning stiffness in the fingers, elbows, toes, knees, and back. He specifically emphasized decreasing strength and flexibility in his right wrist that prevented him from enjoying certain activities.”

The case went on for another 10 minutes or so as the faculty discussed the possible diagnosis, how they would approach treatment, and so on. When the discussion ended, I went up to them with just one general comment.

Me: “So you do realize which sorts of ‘certain activities’ this patient was talking about having trouble enjoying due to impaired grip strength in his right wrist, don’t you?”

Pause for a second. Here comes a quizzical look.

Two seconds. Trying to figure out what I’m talking about.

Three seconds. Light bulb goes on.

Four seconds. Blushing begins.

Five seconds. Uproarious laughter.

Them: “Oh my God, I hadn’t even thought of that. But you are absolutely right.”

Put that in your differential diagnosis file, people.

So that’s my recent simple (ha ha) #CMEstory. Add yours in the Comment section below. Everyone could use a laugh.

Participation is recommended but totally optional for everyone but Derek (it’s about time he supported one of my ideas).

As long as it’s not another of his hilarious, “You’ll never guess what happened in last week’s Grant Review Committee meeting” anecdotes. I swear if I have to hear one more story about the multi-hued sweater that Gary the medical director wore, I’ll… well, I won’t be happy.

Just a quick post today. I have to go pick up my kid from rowing practice, so I’m squeezing this in before I go. Two topics for your input and consideration:

Topic #1: CMEpalooza Podcast — Yay or Nay?

I have had a couple people talk to me recently about turning the CMEpalooza videos into audio podcasts, I guess so they can listen to them while they are driving or “exercising” (insert eye-rolling emoji). Honestly, I don’t see the appeal, but different strokes for different folks, I guess. Maybe they are just anxious to hear the smooth dulcet tones of Scott Kober through their new $300 Bose headphones. I dunno.

Anyway, after thoroughly researching the idea (I googled it for 5 minutes), it looks like it would be possible to do without too much difficulty, if enough people are interested in that type of format. Let’s do a quick poll!

Topic #2: Can we all just agree that the odds of me remembering that you were on a CMEpalooza panel are not very good and not get offended when we talk later and I inevitably forget?

It’s not you, it’s me. This happened to me twice last week at the SACME conference and a few more times before that at the Alliance conference. Usually, I will be having a pleasant conversation with someone and then mention something about how I co-produce an online conference called CMEpalooza. The person I’m talking to will sigh, roll their eyes, and say something like, “I know, Derek. I did a CMEpalooza session last year.” To their credit, most people don’t get offended, and we have a nice laugh after I smack my forehead and hang my head in shame. Still, I do feel bad about not remembering.

Look, Scott and I have done a lot of sessions over the past 5 years. Just look at the Archives. I’m going to forget people, especially if you weren’t on a session that I was running. I have never been great at remembering names and faces, and my rapidly increasing age is not helping matters any. Personally, I recommend adding “Previous CMEpalooza Participant” to your name badge, so I can steal a quick look at it and remind myself. That would make my life sooo much easier.