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Typical Day

Dr. Goopy Gooperson is up and at 'em at 5am, ready for another long and demanding day at Shmoop General. She drinks a glass of juice (no coffee, as she doesn't want her hands shaking during an operation), shoves in a couple of naturally high-protein hard-boiled eggs and is on her way. After checking her emails, she does her pre-op rounds, speaking with both of the patients who are to have their brains operated on that day. (One of her patients actually sought medical help after a friend of his sarcastically suggested that he should get his head examined. Good thing he took him seriously.)

After consulting her patients' charts and explaining that she saw nothing wrong with his feet, she was about to send him home…when her patient said, "But Doc, it's my head." "Ah!"—and she flipped the chart over and said, "Oh, I see—yes—you need surgery." (The great ones never lose their sense of humor…Goopy has a poster from the "This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs" commercial hanging on her office wall.)

She consults with the anesthesiologist and makes sure all systems are go. Her first operation is the removal of a brain tumor. She and her team assemble in the O.R. at 8am, the patient is put under by the anesthesiologist, and then they take off the patient's clothes and snap some compromising photos that can be later used as blackmail. (Oh, come on, we're kidding!)

The surgery takes just over five hours, and there are no coffee or whiz breaks in the middle of it. You can't exactly prop someone's skull flap open with a paperweight while you go to read Stream the River by I.P. Freely. Needed whizzing happens right there on the front lines, thank you, Snapple bottle. You do have plenty of people assisting you, but you are in this thing from start to finish.

After the tumor is removed and the patient is sewn up, Dr. Gooperson grabs lunch in the hospital cafeteria—she likes the overcooked spaghetti mash after she's done brain tumor ops for some reason—then prepares for her second surgery.

At 3pm, she meets with her team in the O.R. and her second patient is wheeled in—this one for a cerebral aneurysm that will require surgical clipping. After making a joke about bringing in the hacksaw while pretending the patient is already anesthetized, the patient is actually put under, and Dr. Gooperson performs a craniotomy to expose the aneurysm. The clip is applied, the skull is screwed back together, the muscles and skin are sutured, and lickety-split—all done after only 6-½ hours. Frank N. Stein, eat your heart out.

At 10:15, the good doctor pops into her office for a skinny minute to respond to a few emails, then hops in her Mercedes and heads to her enormous home. She'll be back in seemingly no time to lather, rinse, repeat all over again.