The Wannabe Mayor And His Spokesperson, Unmasked

These Responses Aren’t Coming Out Of Left Field
Doctor/Physician, Emergency Room, Nurses, USA | Healthy | September 13, 2021
In high school, I break my left arm. I’m taken to the emergency room.

Nurse #1 : “At least it’s your left arm!”

Me: *Crying* “I’m left-handed!”

Nurse #2 : “At least it’s your left!”

Me: “Left-handed…”

Doctor: “At least—”

Me: *Bawling* “I’m left-handed, God d*** it!”

School was not much better.

If You Can’t Control It, Own It
Bizarre, Funny, Health & Body, Office, UK | Healthy | September 11, 2021
I am sensitive. By this, I mean that my skin is sensitive, my digestive system is sensitive, my sense of smell is sensitive, and my eyes are sensitive. A strong smell, bright lights, a change of weather, high winds, changing temperatures, pollen — all cause a reaction of some sort. It’s like hay fever, seasonal eczema, and something else all wrapped in one and antihistamines do nada.

I’ve only been working in this office for about a month and I’ve been fairly reaction-free. Then, a change in weather plus the construction site burning something acrid results in my eyes swelling and getting weepy and my skin peeling to the point of bleeding. I’m somewhat irritable due to being so uncomfortable.

Trainer: “You don’t have to tell me — it’s entirely your own business and it clearly doesn’t interfere with your working — but I’m nosy. What do you have that causes these reactions?”

Me: “LBS.”

Trainer: “What’s that?”

Me: “Little B**** Syndrome. My body just reacts to everything that isn’t basic as f***. Doctors don’t know why, so I’ve decided that my body is just an oversensitive little b****.”

This Doctor Knows All About “Cold”
Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | September 9, 2021
I’m twenty-three and I’m working in the UK for a year. English is not my first language, but I know enough to work in an English-speaking company so it’s not too bad.

One day, while I’m at work, I start feeling bad — fever, sore throat, coughing, etc. Since I am only here for a year, I did not think about registering with a general doctor, so I was not sure where to go to get seen by a doctor. My manager told me about “walk-in centers” where you can go without appointments.

I check out of work, take a taxi, and manage to get to one of these centers. I wait for some time and then get to see a doctor.

I’m kind of shy and new situations can stress me a lot. I’ve never been to a doctor on my own at this point since my parents always had to drive me to the doctor’s office, and I had the same doctor from the time I was born.

I enter the doctor’s room. He barely looks at me and does not invite me to take a seat or anything.

Doctor: “What’s your problem?”

Me: “I feel like I have a fever and I feel pain in my throat.”

Doctor: “Okay, well, that’s a cold. What do you want me to do?”

I’m kind of shocked. In similar cases, my doctor always did the basic tests, like looking at my throat, measuring my temperature, making me breathe, etc. I try to insist.

Me: “Well, I just wanted to be sure it was just a cold.”

Doctor: “What could it be other than a cold?”

I’m thinking, “You’re the doctor; you’re the one supposed to know.” I try proposing an illness without knowing the English name — “angine” in French, which in English is called “Tonsillitis”.

Me: “Well, I really don’t know… It could be an angina? I’m sorry, I’m not sure of the English name.”

Doctor: “Nope, angina is a cardiac illness.”

Me: “Well, like I said, I’m not sure of what it’s called in English.”

He does not try to understand or do any tests. He just asks for my age and then says, in a very condescending way:

Doctor: “Well, you’re twenty-three years old and you never dealt with a cold before? Just get some paracetamol for three weeks. Goodbye.”

I went out of the center, and I almost cried out of stress and anger. I went home and called my parents, who helped me think and told me to go to a pharmacy to get a syrup for my throat. The syrup helped a lot — the weekend, too — and I recovered quickly.

I know this was a free consultation, I know doctors don’t have a lot of time allowed per patient, and I know the NHS has budget issues. But I was sick, living on my own in a foreign country, and just wanted to get something for the pain and to be reassured that it was just a cold.

Time To Block That Particular Vet
Money, Pets & Animals, South Carolina, USA, Vet | Healthy | September 7, 2021
This takes place during the beginnings of the 2020 health crisis, over a span of three months, from January to March. I have had my cat Linus since he was four months old and got him from a local rescue, meaning he was neutered when I got him. In 2020, he was five years old. I take him to his annual checkups and he has never had any issues.

One day, Linus starts acting funny. He’s making a cry I’ve never heard and looks like he’s searching for something. He keeps pawing at my clothes and a rag that I use for dusting. I watch as he squats in an attempt to pee on the rag. I quickly scoop him up and put him in his litter box. He tries to pee, but hardly anything comes out. I’m worried that he has a UTI, which in neutered males can cause a blockage and, as I found out later, they only have about seventy-two hours before they die if they are blocked.

I call my vet and explain what is happening to set up an appointment. I talk to a woman on the phone who I assume is a vet.

Vet: “If he is blocked, then there is nothing we can do except refer him to the ER where they can treat him. You should just go to the ER instead of wasting your money to come to us first and then to the ER.”

I do this, not knowing this will be the first act of many stressful moments over this three-month time period.

At the ER, they take a look at him and say that he is not blocked but simply has a UTI. They give me three or four types of medication (ranging from pill to liquid) and send me on my way. This first visit is about $200 to $300. After following the instructions carefully and fighting my bratty baby, he seems to get better. I keep an eye on his litter box, and while his urine clumps aren’t normal-sized, he seems to be peeing again.

One morning, I notice Linus is having trouble peeing again. I leave for work, but since I’m concerned, I leave early to take him to the ER again. They check him again, and again they say that he’s not blocked, just a UTI. The vet also tells me he possibly has FLUTD (Feline Lower Urinary Tract Disease), which is more psychological than bacterial, where stress causes the cat to have UTI symptoms. Again, I am given the same medications, and this time I pay around $500 for this visit.

I follow the instructions for the medicine and Linus seems to get better, but then, a couple of weeks later, he is crying again either late at night. He is searching again for something soft to pee on. I take him to the ER again. They decide to hold him for a few hours for observation and testing. I’m exhausted and concerned. Unlike the previous two times, I can’t go into the ER waiting room because of the health crisis and they only do curbside. I head home until they call me to pick him up. Turns out he was a bit dehydrated and they gave him fluids. But they also say he’s not blocked. I believe I pay something like $700 for this visit.

When I get home, Linus is acting really lethargic. He’s hardly moving and looks like he’s in pain. It looks like he’s straining and making grunting noises. I call the ER and express my concerns that he is blocked. The front desk hands the phone to the vet.

ER Vet: “It sounds like he’s blocked.”

Me: “How much will it cost to unblock him?”

She tells me an amount that’s AT LEAST $2,500. I begin crying because I’m saving for a house and that would be a good chunk of my savings. When I tell her I can’t afford that, I will never forget what she says to me.

ER Vet: “Well, if you have bad credit, you can always sign up for [Medical Credit Card #1 ], or the vet specific [Medical Credit Card #2].”

I am beyond pissed.

Me: “My credit isn’t the issue. Could we try [medication]? Isn’t that supposed to relax the urethra?”

ER Vet: “Sure, we can try that, but it won’t help.”

I go back to the ER to get the medication and the vet tech there tells me to try an animal hospital (basically a local clinic) in a nearby town that does surgeries. This animal hospital happens to also be my mom’s vet. I thank the vet tech and make an appointment for the next morning at the animal hospital.

I take my cat to the animal hospital, where they tell me to wait in my car because of the health crisis. When I’m called in, they take me to the room and I explain everything, including the visits with the ER. The vet later comes in and does a physical exam.

Animal Hospital Vet: “Linus is definitely blocked. I’ll be able to unblock him today. I’ll get you a quote range on costs.”

When he leaves, I look at my poor baby and burst into tears. I feel like such a bad pet parent. I’m able to calm myself by the time the vet comes back. He gives me the quote range, which is something like $680 at the lowest, $720 at the highest. I start crying again and the vet and vet tech give me concerned looks.

Me: “The ER wanted to charge me over $2,500.”

Animal Hospital Vet: “$2,500 to unblock a cat? That’s ridiculous.”

I agreed for him to do the procedure, and they took my cat to the back. He explained that I needed to put him on special prescription diet food after the procedure. In addition, if he became blocked three times within a short time span, such as a year, then we might need to look at surgery that would basically turn him into a “female”; the surgery makes the male cat’s urethra shorter and wider like a female’s, which is why females don’t get blocked.

I thanked him and left. Linus was in the clinic for three days and was well after that. There was some concern expressed by the vet that Linus’s blood sugar was high and that he might be diabetic, but it turns out he’s not, luckily.

Linus now is doing well. I’ve had no more scares since. He’s on special prescription food and is happy and healthy.

The Only Thing Worse Than The Itching Is The Doctor
Bigotry, California, Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | September 6, 2021
Ever since her knee surgery, I haven’t seen my regular dermatologist. Instead, I see one of her two assistants. [Assistant #1 ] is ex-military, very brusk, and doesn’t like to do anything extra. [Assistant #2 ] is extremely sweet, a better doctor than my actual dermatologist, and was the first to figure out I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome.

I go in once a year for a mole check as skin cancer is what ultimately killed my paternal grandma. This time, I’m stuck with [Assistant #1 ]. Because of my PCOS, I’m under the care of an endocrinologist, so I get my blood tested every three months. The PCOS has contributed to weight gain over the years, so yes, I am fat.

Me: “While I’m here… my feet have been super itchy. It’s just like I have ants crawling all over them.”

The assistant doesn’t even bother to look at my feet.

Assistant #1 : “That’s because you’re diabetic.”

Me: “No, I’m not. My bloodwork shows that my blood sugars are well within normal range. I’m not even pre-diabetic.”

Assistant #1 : “If your feet are itching like that it’s because you’re diabetic and have neuropathy.”

Me: “I just saw my endocrinologist recently and I am not diabetic. All my bloodwork shows that everything is normal except for being severely anemic.”

Assistant #1 : “I’ll prescribe a steroid, but you’re diabetic and have neuropathy.”

She prescribes a topical steroid that does absolutely zilch for the itchiness. I end up finding more relief from a medicated powder from the dollar store. My blood work over the next year confirms I’m STILL not diabetic. On top of that, my feet are very ticklish, so I obviously have no neuropathy. On my next mole check a year later, I get [Assistant #2 ].

She notices the smell of medicated foot powder.

Assistant #2 : “Are you having problems with your feet?”

She begins to examine my feet.

Me: “Yes, they itch a lot. [Assistant #1 ] insisted I have diabetes and neuropathy, but she prescribed something anyway. It didn’t work.”

Assistant #2 : “You don’t have diabetes or neuropathy. You have a foot fungus.”

She prescribed a foam and a special powder. Within a week, my itchy feet stopped itching. And according to my endocrinologist, I’m STILL not diabetic

She Could’ve At Least Asked First
Bad Behavior, Hospital, Reddit, Strangers | Healthy | CREDIT: Margali | September 5, 2021
I was leaving a doctor’s appointment and my ride arrived, so I stood up and propped myself on the outside of the seat while I was getting ready to fold my wheelchair. A woman ran up and tried to wheel it away — great brakes on my chair — and I had to struggle with her while my driver got out and came to help me.

Woman: *Whining* “But I need this chair for my mom! She’s aged! And this chair is so much nicer and cleaner than the other chairs around here!”

We had to get the guard involved. I could understand if it was a generic wheelchair in basic aluminum, but I guess she didn’t understand that the hospital didn’t have royal purple wheelchairs with cup holders, cane holders, and a chair bag.

Instagramedical Emergency
Bad Behavior, Boyfriend/Girlfriend, Germany, Health & Body, Patients, Reddit | Healthy | CREDIT: AleksFenix96 | September 3, 2021
I work as a paramedic in a small town in northern Germany, thirty kilometers away from the next big city. Sometimes we need to bring patients to the big city.

It is a hot and busy day, we roll the first six hours through the whole city, mostly taking care of small issues that just require transport. After the first real emergency, a car crash that needed transport to the mentioned bigger city, we are putting our stuff back together at the hospital.

Not even one minute after setting our status to “free for calls,” the dispatch has something for us.

Dispatch: “Woman, around twenty years old, feeling unwell, no more information.”

That means it could be anything, from toe pain to cardiac arrest.

After a ten-minute drive with “lights and music,” we arrive and ring at the door. The patient’s boyfriend comes to the door, recording video on his phone.

Patient’s Boyfriend: “Hey, guys, the ambulance came very quick. They even had sirens on!”

My partner and I exchange “What the f***?” looks.

Me: “Good day. We were called to [Patient]. Are we in the right place?”

Patient’s Boyfriend: *Still filming* “Yeah, come in, guys. That’s going to be great.”

Me: *Thinking* “What in the f*** is wrong here?”

We go in to find the young woman lying on the couch. She’s really thin — we can see some of her bones — and unresponsive. While my partner is checking her blood pressure, pulse, etc., and I am getting the monitor (EKG) ready, I ask the boyfriend what the matter is.

Patient’s Boyfriend: *Still filming us* “She was filming her sport tutorial for her Instagram followers and suddenly fainted. She is on a new diet; she just looks too fat.”

Me: “Has she eaten or drunk anything today? And could you please put the phone down?”

Patient’s Boyfriend: “Just a little bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. No, I don’t need to put it down. These ‘blue light stories’ are epic on Instagram.”

We are interrupted by an alarm sound from the monitor. The patient’s blood pressure is worryingly low. And the rest of her vitals don’t look good, either.

Partner: “We need a doctor here.”

In Germany, we can call doctors to the scene if we need to give special medications or make invasive treatments. I call the doctor.

Me: “Mr. [Patient’s Boyfriend], stop filming. Your girlfriend is in critical condition.”

Patient’s Boyfriend: “Nah, man, this is going to be huge. She will love it to put it on her YouTube.”

Partner: *Sarcastically* “Yeah, the ‘How I Nearly Died’ vlog. Absolutely great idea.”

I prepare to put a needle in the patient’s arm. The boyfriend comes so close that he hits me and I nearly stab myself. That is the boiling point. I am now really pissed.

Me: *Calm but a bit louder and clearer* “If you don’t back off and put the phone down, I will get the police here and they will take care of it. You don’t understand, do you? Your girlfriend is lying here with bad blood pressure, oxygen, and pulse. I’m really worried that we are close to needing CPR. Even our doctor is on the way. So back off and put the phone down or the police will really take care of it.”

Patient’s Boyfriend: “Sorry, I can’t. This is my work.”

My partner and I exchange looks again.

Me: “All right, I’m calling the police.”

A few minutes after that, the doctor arrived. He was annoyed by the boyfriend, too, and told him to go away, but he still didn’t listen.

A few more minutes later, the cops came and made him delete all the footage. They stood with him outside until we went to the hospital.

We managed to get the patient to the ICU. She made it and is now in good hands. Hopefully, she dumped her boyfriend.

How Dairy Miss This?!
Doctor/Physician, Home, The Netherlands | Healthy | September 1, 2021
When I am around eight years old in the 1990s, I start to get random tummy aches. They appear out of the blue and often come with diarrhoea. My parents take me to our general physician, who can’t find anything. He sends me to a specialist, who does every test he can think of. They find nothing. Since my health seems in order — growing right, not dehydrated, etc. — the specialist tells my parents to keep a good eye on my weight, etc. “Make sure she eats healthy, like enough whole grains, fruits, veggies, and milk.”

I grow up okay and I seem to get fewer tummy aches when I eat at home. My parents deduce that it might come from fats or spices, things we don’t use that much of at home. I don’t like milk, but I love yoghurt and buttermilk, so my desserts are often those things mixed with fruits. I can drink litres of buttermilk or yoghurt in a day, so my parents are not worried about my calcium.

After my marriage, I come across a site that I wasn’t looking for that lists all my symptoms. I go to my new general physician again.

Me: “Remember all those tummy aches listed in my file? I was wondering… Could I be lactose intolerant?”

Doctor: “You know you shouldn’t read those sites online. They mention cancer every three lines.”

Me: “Yes, but the list—”

Doctor: “When do you often have tummy aches?”

Me: “When I go out for dinner.”

Doctor: “And why do you think you are lactose intolerant?”

Me: “Because I always end dinner with ice cream—”

Doctor: “That little does not—”

Me: “With whipped cream. And I love creamy sauces or creamy soups, which I often have at a restaurant, as well.”

Doctor: “Do you also get a tummy ache when you drink milk?”

Me: “No, but that’s because I don’t like milk. I drink buttermilk. And I prefer goat’s cheese, as well.”

Doctor: “Fine, let’s get you tested.”

After a while, I get a call.

Doctor: “Hey, [My Name], I never thought I would say this: the Internet was right. You are lactose intolerant. I can prescribe some pills if you want, but there are a lot of vegan alternatives nowadays. You could look into that if you want.”

So, after about thirty years, I finally found out what’s wrong with me, what specialists then couldn’t find. I have no idea why they didn’t look into that, but they no longer work in the field, anyway. I am absolutely not vegan, but I am glad there are many vegan alternatives available.

Bedside Manner Who?
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Jerk, Medical Office, Mississippi, USA | Healthy | August 30, 2021
For many years, a local doctor was my primary care physician. She was also my pediatrician. I moved out of town a few years ago, but my insulin resistance has gotten worse, so I made the drive back to her because I thought I could trust her with my health. This is how it went.

Doctor: “So, you think you have insulin resistance?”

Me: “Uh, I do have it. It’s because of my PCOS. It was diagnosed a few years back—”

Doctor: “But you’re not on [medication]?

Me: “I thought I wasn’t able to be on any medication for it—”

Doctor: “You’ve been aware of this since seventh grade and you’ve never been on medication?! That’s such a shame; you’ve obviously retained so much weight. You wouldn’t be so overweight if someone had caught this sooner. By the looks of it, your pediatrician should have caught this in elementary school!”

Me: “Um… I was diagnosed here. I was told to just diet, exercise, and manage my PCOS to take care of it.”

Doctor: “Oh, God, it was probably [Other Doctor]. Don’t worry, she’s retired now, so—”

Me: “It was you, actually.”

Doctor: “I never diagnosed you with this. I told you I thought you had it. I didn’t say you actually did.”

I was confused out of my mind.

Me: “Um… Okay, but I do, in fact, have it. I’ve had it for years.”

An awkward silence fell.

Doctor: “Do you go to the lady doctor? Like a…” *whispers* “…gynecologist? ”

Me: “Um, yeah, pretty regularly, for my PCOS.”

Doctor: “Well, she should have prescribed you [medication]! I’ll have to get in contact with her and let her know what she’s done.”

Because it’s totally my OBGYN’s job to treat my insulin resistance. She spent the next few minutes talking about my weight in the most insulting way possible.

Doctor: “It’s so sad you got to be so big!”

Keep in mind, I wear a large. I’m overweight but I’m not exactly the star of “My 600 Pound Life.” She made comments saying she could tell I had insulin resistance by the way I carried all my weight in my “front tire”. Yes, she loved calling my stomach a “front tire”. She pointed out every lump on my body in an “Aw, you poor baby!” kind of way. After all that, she gave me this gem.

Doctor: “Now I need you to go on this diet, but I don’t like calling it a diet! Putting patients on diets can make them feel bad about their bodies!”

Gee, lady, I sure would hate for you to make me self-conscious. Also, she recommended this diet immediately after I told her I was already on the very same diet. I don’t think she believed me.

Listen To Children… With A Grain Of Salt
Children, Health & Body, Playground, Siblings, UK | Healthy | August 28, 2021
My little sister and I are maybe six and thirteen, and we’re at an activity centre, thanks to a course that helps kids from disadvantaged families have a slightly more “normal” childhood. Usually, our dad drops us off, we spend the day doing fun stuff we don’t normally get the chance to do, and then he comes to pick us up.

Today, we have been dropped off a little early, and we’re playing tig while waiting for the other kids to arrive. My sister trips over a step and bangs her wrist. There appears to be a small cut, and she has tears in the corners of her eyes. The adults responsible for us ask if they need to call our dad, but I overrule them. I tell them it’s just a small cut; she’s being a crybaby and needs to get over it. She’s not even actually crying, just about to. The adults listen to me, but they really should not.

My dad has always been the kind of person who shouts at me whenever I cry, telling me off for crocodile tears and telling me I’m being ridiculous and such, so I’m projecting this onto my sister. My dad is autistic and the sound of us crying always causes him genuine pain, which means he can’t deal with us properly, but we won’t find this out for many years yet.

At the moment, all I know is that crying equals bad, and she needs to deal with the pain without crying like I have been expected to. Also, my sister has an incredibly high pain tolerance due to years of medical issues, so I should have known that if she’s feeling the pain, then the pain is serious. She can barely join in the activities that day because her wrist hurts so much, and one of the other kids makes her a sling from some of the material we have access to today. I just roll my eyes at this and continue playing as normal because, clearly, she’s being silly, and I’m not going to stop my fun to baby her.

Some hours later, our dad returns to collect us. The adults mention to him that she banged her wrist earlier but that it’s nothing to worry about. He removes her makeshift sling and her wrist is swollen. I don’t really get what he’s all upset about, but he takes us to the hospital to get it looked at, which I’m kind of numb to since we’ve been in them a lot, and I still don’t realise that this is serious. They find that her wrist is broken.

Looking back at the situation now, I’m horrified that these adults just accepted the word of an autistic preteen girl instead of appropriately dealing with the medical emergency, and I’m disgusted at my own attitude towards my sister’s pain. On the bright side, my sister’s wrist is no longer broken, and she hasn’t needed to be in hospital since before the health crisis, though she will need another appointment soon.

This More Painful Than Whatever You Had Done At Your Appointment
Impossible Demands, Medical Office, Reception, USA | Healthy | August 26, 2021
I am on Medicaid for a short time during college. When leaving the doctor’s office, I ask if there’s anything I owe and they tell me no. A few months later, I receive a bill in the mail from the doctor’s office for $3, along with instructions on how to pay it online. When I go online, the site tells me it won’t accept payments under $10, so I call their office.

Me: “I received a $3 bill from your office but it won’t accept the payment online since it’s under $10. Can I pay over the phone?”

Receptionist: “No, we don’t accept payments under $10 over the phone, either.”

Me: “Can I mail you the money, then, or drop it off during off-hours? My work schedule doesn’t work with your hours of operation.”

Receptionist: “No, it has to be in person.”

Me: “You’re only open from 9:00 am to 5:00 pm. I work from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm and only have a thirty-minute break. My workplace is a thirty-minute drive from your office. Are you really giving me no other option than asking for time off to drive an hours’ worth to pay $3?”

Receptionist: *Long pause* “I’ll waive the fee.”

Allergic To Using Her Brain
Canada, Medical Office, New Brunswick, Patients, Stupid | Healthy | August 24, 2021
I work for an orthopaedic surgeon and the number of patients who don’t know their medications or allergies is staggering! This patient just called in and we’re concerned about an infection after her surgery.

Me: “The doctor wants to get you on a general antibiotic to be safe. Can you tell me if you have any allergies?”

Patient: “I think I have a few, but I’m not sure. I will give you a call back.”

This isn’t a problem, and the patient calls back to give me a list of five or so allergies. The medication that the doctor wanted to give her is a derivative of one of her allergies, so we need to know what happens.

Me: “Can you tell me what happens when you take that antibiotic, please?”

Patient: “I can’t recall anything happening. I don’t think I’m even allergic. Let me ask my husband.”

I wait. The patient’s husband says he doesn’t know, so the patient is going to call a friend and get back to me. This is now the third time we’ve gone over this.

Patient: “I think you can go ahead and send that prescription. I don’t think I’m even allergic to it.”

Me: “So, just to be perfectly clear, you really don’t remember what happened the last time you took this medication?”

Patient: “Well, you know, I think the issue was that my throat started to close up.”

Cue me hitting my head on my desk.

Not Feeling So Good
Australia, Australian Capital Territory, Bizarre, Canberra, Doctor/Physician, Medical Office, Patients | Healthy | August 22, 2021
I went to my doctor for a very minor operation on my hand. He gave me two shots of local anaesthetic and we waited for a few moments for it to work. As soon as the scalpel touched my hand, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Doctor: *Puzzled* “You shouldn’t have felt that. You must be very sensitive. I’ll give you another shot.”

We waited a few minutes again. When the scalpel touched my hand, I jumped again.

Doctor: *Even more puzzled* “You shouldn’t have felt that. I can’t give you any more; it would be a bit risky.”

I just want to get it over and done with.

Me: “It’s not so bad. Go ahead and I’ll try not to react.”

The doctor carefully and successfully finishes the operation.

Doctor: ”Has this ever happened before? It looks like anaesthetics don’t work very well on you.”

Me: “I’ve never had any sort of anaesthetic, full or local, before.”

I drove home, a trip of about an hour. I sat down with a cup of tea, and suddenly, I lost all feeling in my body. Before I could react, I fell asleep. I woke up about three hours later with no apparent after-effects, apart from being worried.

A week later, I saw my doctor for a follow-up and told him what had happened.

Doctor: *Looking very concerned* “I’ve never heard of such a reaction before. It’s a good job it didn’t happen while you were driving home. I think that you had better be very careful about having any sort of anaesthetic in the future. I will put a DANGER note in your medical record.”

I now wear a bright orange “Anaesthetic Risk” medical alert wristband ALL THE TIME!

Sounds Like Someone’s About To Get Sued
Bank, Bizarre, Health & Body, Iowa, Nevada, Non-Dialogue, Office, USA | Healthy | August 19, 2021
I work for a major financial company. I was the manager of the branch in question. I worked long hours there. I was usually there from a few hours before open until significantly after close. I was the first person to arrive in the morning and the last to leave at night. It was exhausting.

We were running on (essentially) a skeleton crew, so I had to be familiar with every position from janitor on out and fill in for anyone who was sick.

We were in a dense commercial block, with small antique shops, restaurants, other financial companies, and even a theatre.

I started getting headaches at work. Some days, they were so bad I threw up in the bathroom before driving home. It seemed that the longer I was at work, the worse I felt.

I started seeing the gas company van parked on the block more and more often. In a local restaurant, while enjoying lunch, I overheard that all of the commercial spaces near ours were complaining about gas smell.

One day, one of our clients complained of a gas smell in our branch. I didn’t smell anything. None of my coworkers smelled anything. But the guidance was clear on what to do; we called the gas company and reported that there was a gas smell.

We were told to leave the building, so we did dutifully, complaining the whole way. The gas company showed up with their tester. As he brought the tester device near my office, it started clicking. It started clicking really fast. The gas company guy turned to us, quite pale, and asked how we hadn’t exploded yet.

They evacuated us a few more blocks away. I remember a fire company person asking me if I was dizzy or nauseous. I was, but it was normal for me, so I was confused and didn’t know how to answer. I wish to this day I had answered, because my spouse had apparently noticed that I was mentally deteriorating the whole time, and even now, five years later, I’m noticeably slower and less mentally capable than I once was.

After they aired out the first floor with large vans that had large fans, I was brought back into the office to unlock the door to the basement, where the gas concentration was strongest. By now, I’d sent all my coworkers home with a promised full day’s pay.

I unlocked the door a bit nervously and was hustled away from it again while they went into the basement.

Earlier that year, in January, we’d gotten a new furnace. It turned out that they hadn’t joined the unions correctly and the furnace was leaking out gas at a prodigious rate. What actually saved us from an explosion was that there was very little oxygen down there, mostly just gas and carbon monoxide.

The basements of all of the commercial buildings on the block were separated by old crumbling brickwork, so the gas from my office was leaking into the neighboring commercial buildings, too. They all had to be aired out. All of the gas problems on the block were the fault of my faulty furnace.

And I was the one who’d suffered the most exposure to it, as we kept our secure documents in the basement, and I was the only one with the key, going down there every day, multiple times a day to retrieve or return documents.

I still work for the company, but in a different district far away. I still don’t know how to get compensation for any harm I may have suffered in those working conditions.

That’ll Put A Cramp In Your Theory
Colorado, Coworkers, Health & Body, Instant Karma, Jerk, Office, USA | Healthy | August 16, 2021
I am at work and start getting cramps. I have endometriosis so I need to get painkillers in my system before my period starts or I become incapacitated from the pain. I forgot to refill the container I bring to work, so I don’t have any pain relief on me.

Me: “Hey, [Coworker], do you have any Tylenol? Or any other pain killers?”

Coworker: “No, I don’t take any medication. If you’re needing something like that, it means you have some deficiency, and your body’s telling you need to get more vitamins or water.”

Me: *Long pause* “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to help my chronic illness. I have endometriosis.”

Thankfully, she actually apologized for making assumptions and offered to ask others if they had any for me.

The Wannabe Mayor And His Spokesperson, Unmasked
Bad Behavior, Current Events, Indiana, Medical Office, Patients, USA | Healthy | August 14, 2021
A male patient and his girlfriend, both middle-aged, come into our clinic to check in for an appointment. The man says he is a new patient, so we have him fill out paperwork while he waits for his appointment. When they came in, they were not wearing masks. Even though restrictions in our state have loosened for masks, individual businesses still have a right to require masks upon entry. Regardless of the current restrictions or vaccination status, a health clinic that serves people sick with a number of contagious diseases would be a good place to wear a mask — or so you would think.

As the front desk receptionist, it is my job to inform people that we still require masks. To make these conversations more polite, I usually phrase it a different way.

Me: “Do you guys have masks with you, or do you need one?”

We have disposable masks available at the front door.

The girlfriend simply says, “No,” but neither of them makes a move to grab a mask when I point out our available stash. This is where I should insist, but I’m a shy twenty-one-year-old female and there are no other patients in the lobby, so I don’t push it. I figure the nurses will take care of it, and oh, boy, do they.

The provider that they are here to see is the sort that will take no substance from the cow’s behind. She is a great nurse practitioner that has been in the field for upwards of a decade. Her LPN (licensed practical nurse) — the one that brings patients back to rooms and gets them started — is equally so.

The LPN comes out and calls the man’s name. Both he and his girlfriend start to get up.

LPN: “Do you guys have masks?”

Girlfriend: “No.”

The LPN grabs two from the box at the front door and extends them to the man and his girlfriend.

LPN: “You’ll have to wear one for the appointment.”

At this, they explode.

Girlfriend: “Oh, no. We were told when we scheduled the appointment that masks were highly encouraged but not required. [Patient] won’t wear one.”

LPN: “Well, I can ask the provider if she would be okay with a face shield, but he’ll have to wear something.”

At no point in this conversation does the man, the actual patient, say anything. He just starts angrily pacing and indicating that he is leaving. After a few minutes, he does actually just walk out, leaving his girlfriend to fight his battle.

Girlfriend: “Whoever I talked to, that was the first question I asked: do we need to wear masks? I wouldn’t have scheduled the appointment if they were required. I was assured that they were not.”

Me: “Hm, that’s strange. Do you remember who you talked to? I will have to update them on our policy so they have the correct information.”

At this, the girlfriend sputters.

Girlfriend: “Well, I don’t remember who it was, but it wasn’t the person who scheduled us. It was a different person.”

I look to see who scheduled her appointment. It was someone in the billing department, which is strange because they don’t usually schedule appointments. I find out later that there was an issue with one of the regular schedulers and that the call was transferred incorrectly. No big deal.

The LPN goes to get the head nurse, which is the closest thing to a manager at our clinic. [Head Nurse] confirms the policy and reiterates that we can check with the provider, but that he will have to wear something during the appointment or he will not be seen. [Head Nurse] confirms with the provider that she will not see him without a mask. I believe her exact words are along the lines of, “He needs to put on his big boy pants and get over it. It’s a piece of cloth.”

The girlfriend just gets angrier.

Girlfriend: “You’re really not going to see him over this? Well, that sucks, because he hasn’t been to the doctor in over thirty years and he has diabetes. He’s going to lose his leg. He really needed this appointment.”

During her rant, I’m thinking to myself, “If he really needs this appointment, you would think he would suck it up and just wear the mask.”

Girlfriend: “When I scheduled the appointment, I told them he had two requirements. First, he wasn’t going to wear a mask. We were told that was fine. Second, he wasn’t going to let the doctor do certain tests. He didn’t want to be touched. He didn’t want a physical. He just wanted to be seen for diabetes.”

That would also be a problem because, as previously mentioned, the provider would not let that fly.

I’m still trying to remain as polite as possible.

Me: “I’m sorry, but that is our policy. I know it’s frustrating to be given wrong information, and I’ll try to make sure everyone in our clinic is aware of our policies when scheduling appointments in the future.”

After repeating what she had already said a couple more times, she left. I canceled the man’s appointment and put a BIG note in his chart about his unwillingness to wear a mask and about our current policy, just in case he tries to schedule again.

Here’s the kicker: I decided to Google this guy. He’s not technically a patient with us, so there’s no HIPAA violation. I started to type in his name, and wouldn’t ya know it, it auto-populated his last name followed by the city and state. Great, so this guy is someone important or had at least been in the news.

Well, it turns out that this guy ran for mayor a couple of years back. He was actually defeated by his opponent, which just so happened to be the son-in-law of one of the clinic’s providers. When I told the provider this, her reaction was priceless. “It’s THAT guy?!” Everyone in town was familiar with him and knew him as the resident a**hole.

I looked at his mayoral campaign site, and one of his talking points was concerning community health. Interesting. There was a blurb in there about needing to “listen to your body.” Very interesting, considering this guy apparently hasn’t been to the doctor in thirty years.

A “Falling For You” Joke Would Be Too Easy
Boyfriend/Girlfriend, Funny, Health & Body, Home, Northern Ireland, Patients, UK | Healthy | August 12, 2021
For obvious reasons, many of us in my country are being encouraged to do “staycations” this year rather than travelling abroad. As I plan day trips away with my husband and young daughter, I recall a summer, a number of years ago, where my ability to travel abroad was hindered, not by a global health crisis, but by personal injury.

At the time, I was in my early twenties, fresh out of university and living with my boyfriend. Northern Ireland was going through a heatwave, with temperatures in the high twenties or low thirties — high eighties, for our American friends. As a fair-skinned Irish girl, I was already struggling with the heat, but my struggle was made worse when, one Saturday morning, as I hurried downstairs wearing footwear not really suited to the purpose, I lost my balance, slipped, fell, and hurt my left leg. The pain was so bad that I ended up in the emergency department, where I was told that I’d broken my leg in three places. After a week in hospital, I came home with crutches, a cast that ran from my toes up past my knee, and a massive bruise to my pride!

A couple of weeks later, with the heatwave set to continue, I was pretty fed up. It was exhausting using crutches to move around and was worse in the oppressive July heat. My boyfriend was driving me home from an appointment and happened to mention how tired I looked. I confirmed that I WAS, in fact, exhausted, to which he gave no response, other than to nod. We pulled into our driveway.

Boyfriend: “Wait here!”

And then he leapt out of the car. He ran to the front door, unlocked and opened it, and then came back to the passenger side door, which he opened for me. As I struggled to work my way out of the car without bashing my cast — I’d learnt that the hard way — my boyfriend took my arm to guide me. With my casted leg off the ground, I reached in to grab my crutches, but my boyfriend stopped me. Before I could protest, he threw one arm behind my knees, and the other around my shoulders, and hoisted me up into his arms! I don’t like being lifted, even in normal circumstances, so I shrieked.

My boyfriend laughed.

Boyfriend: “[My Name], my darling! I’m going to carry you across the threshold!”

And he started for the door.

Me: *Laughing nervously* “Ahh… Okay, [Boyfriend], please just be careful that you don’t—”

Before the words “drop me” could leave my lips, he’d done just that! He must have lost his grip or whatever, but I slid out of his arms. As I was already stressed by the shock of being lifted suddenly, my body wasn’t exactly limp, and my right side smacked forcefully into the hard concrete driveway. I howled in pain and swore angrily at my boyfriend, who, looking sheepish, sank to his knees and started apologising profusely while trying to help me up. When it became apparent, however, that I was going nowhere, so intense was the pain, he disappeared into the house to phone for an ambulance.

The staff in the emergency department were surprised that I was back so soon — as was I! After a trip to X-ray, I was given the bad news: I’d shattered my right kneecap and broken my right wrist and elbow. I’d also injured my neck, which, thankfully, wasn’t broken but was quite badly sprained. After another week in hospital, I returned home — in a wheelchair this time — with casts now on my right knee and arm and a brace on my neck.

My boyfriend, probably as much motivated by guilt as concern for my well-being, spoiled me rotten for the next few painful months as I recovered. By the time I was back on my feet, summer was over and the heatwave had passed, giving way to cloudy, wet, and miserable weather. That summer changed me, and I no longer took good weather — or freedom to travel — for granted. My boyfriend changed, too, becoming less impulsive, and after several months of what he called “trying to make it up to me,” finally accepted that I’d forgiven him. He proposed to me the following spring, and we’ve been happily married ever since. But he thankfully never again offered to “carry me over the threshold”!

For The Record, This Is RIDICULOUS
California, Jerk, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, Nurses, Reception, USA | Healthy | August 10, 2021
I need the medical history of my vaccinations for education reasons. For a variety of other reasons, I do not have access to this yellow card that already has my history, so I call my doctor’s office.

Me: “Hi, my name is [My Name]. I’m a patient of [Doctor]. I’m just calling to ask if I could get a copy of my vaccination history.”

Receptionist #1 : “Your what?”

Me: “Oh, uh, my medical history?”

Receptionist #1 : “Why do you need that?”

Me: “I began going to university and I need that information to prove I’ve been vaccinated. Can you guys possibly email it, or do I have to come down?”

Receptionist #1 : “Uhhh, hold on.”

Eight minutes later:

Receptionist #1 : “Do you have a fax machine?”

Me: “Unfortunately, no.”

Receptionist #1 : “Then you have to come down to the office. It should be a quick visit.”

I make the appointment and go to their office. My mom and I already visited within the last few weeks. It was the start of a new year and insurance updating was already done. My mom got a misprint of her insurance card and went through a big hassle of getting their office to understand that the number on her card was right but the doctor’s name was wrong. I’m under her insurance as a dependent. After this confusion and debacle, the insurance company didn’t want to give my mom more than one properly fixed card, so she gave me the misprint.

I get to the office and they give me the usual forms to fill out and then ask for the card. I’m dealing with the person who I KNOW my mom dealt with last time, because he’s the only male receptionist among the other three women.

Me: “Just a reminder, the info on that card is inaccurate. The doctor’s name is [Doctor] but the number is right.”

Receptionist #2 : “Uh-huh.”

Approximately ten minutes later:

Receptionist #2 : “Miss! Your information is wrong!”

Me: “Yes, I know. I told you that already. It’s [proper information].”

He only looks from me to the card without even glancing at the computer.

Receptionist #2 : “No, I don’t think so. This is wrong. Do you have another card?”

Me: “No, I do not. Is it possible for you to just pull up my file or my mom’s?”

Receptionist #2 : “No. That’ll be $45 for today’s visit.”

Me: “What? I’m here to ask for my own medical history. Why is it so high?”

Receptionist #2 : “Because you don’t have insurance.”

I was literally in this office a few weeks ago.

Me: “You know what? Can you please just pull up my mom’s file? Her name is [Mom]. We have the same insurance information and hers is the correct one; it’s the same number.”

The receptionist makes a weird face at me and then flicks his hand in an indication for me to go sit down.

About fifteen minutes later:

Receptionist #2 : “Okay, fine. Your copay is just $15 dollars.”

I pay it and then go sit down to wait. Twenty minutes pass. I’m finally called in and they insist I be weighed. Disclaimer, I’m fat, and my weight hasn’t been under 180 pounds for years, and this office uses the old fashioned scale that has a weight and a balance slidey thing. As I’m being weighed, the nurse, who I’ve also seen for years, starts off on 160 before slowly moving the slider higher. Every time she does, she goes, “Oh, wow,” over and over again until we get to my actual weight. She then refuses to measure my height, despite that being the usual thing I’ve done for the last fifteen-plus years coming to this office.

I’m finally taken to a room and told to wait for the doctor. Ten or fifteen minutes later, someone finally comes in.

Nurse: “So, you’re here today to get your vaccine shots?”

Me: “What? No. I’m here for my vaccination history.”

Nurse: “Huh? Why didn’t you just call us?”

Me: “I did. You guys told me that because I don’t have a fax machine that I had to come down.”

The nurse looks back and forth from her chart to me before eyeing me suspiciously.

Nurse: “And what do you need this information for?”

Me: “I got into university and they want my vaccine history.”

Nurse: “Oooookay… Wait here.”

She leaves and I wait another ten minutes or so before she returns.

Nurse: “Can you email us the form you have to fill out?”

Me: “Uhh, it’s not a proper form? I just log into the school’s website, and on my profile, it gives me a prompt to fill it out. I took pictures of all the questions on my phone here.”

I show her the pictures.

Nurse: “Hmm… Are you sure there’s no other form?”

Me: “Absolutely.”

This time, she doesn’t say anything before she leaves the room and then comes back a few minutes later.

Nurse: “Okay, can you email us these pictures?”

I get that done and wait another ten minutes.

Nurse: “All right, so do you have the yellow card?”

Me: “No, I don’t have access to it.”

Nurse: “What?!”

I’m surprised at the suddenly loud and very shocked tone of her voice. She’s been monotone and suspicious this whole time.

Me: “I don’t have access to it. Things are complicated at home and I don’t have access to it.”

Nurse: “Well, can’t you just… ask for it?”

Me: “No, I can’t. That’s why I’m here: because I already tried my other options.”

Nurse: “All right, well, that yellow card has your medical history on it that you need. Unless you have that card, we can’t let you see your file.”

Me: “You— Wait, what? I’m asking for my history, and you’re telling me you can’t give me my own history… unless I have my history.”

Nurse: “Yes, because you need that card.”

Me: “I. Don’t. Have. It. That’s why I’m here to ask you guys — my doctor’s office — for my history.”

Nurse: “We can’t do that.”

Me: “Well, if I can’t see it, then can you at least just tell me the information that I need? I sent you the pictures.”

Nurse: “Hmmm, no, I don’t think so. Well, thank you for visiting.”

She gestures for me to leave the room.

Me: “No. Absolutely not. You guys tried to make me pay a ridiculous amount for copay I’ve never paid before, you guys did make me pay for copay anyway, and you are trying to turn me away without helping me. I haven’t even seen the doctor yet. I’m not leaving until I see the doctor.”

The nurse suddenly looks panicked and tells me to wait longer before leaving. It’s about another ten or fifteen minutes before the doctor actually shows up.

He basically sits in the office with me, holding my file, while I show and ask him the questions necessary and he tells me the dates. I’m still not allowed to see or hold my file. It comes to light there’s a vaccine shot that I actually need a renewal of, so that can also be done to get out of the way. He thanks me for coming into the office and tells me a nurse will help me with the vaccine.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long for her to show up, and it’s the same nurse I’ve been dealing with this whole time. The shot gets done and over with rather quickly, and then she just leaves the room. She hasn’t uttered a single word to me the whole time. I sit there a bit confused, waiting for further instructions. The nurse then pops her head through the doorway.

Nurse: “Ummm, you can leave now, y’know.”

I was honestly a bit more surprised at the sudden attitude change than I was angry. When I got to the car, the surprised feeling was gone and I was definitely more than dissatisfied with the supposed “quick visit” that lasted from 9:30 am to 11:50 am.

Can’t Let The Cat Out Of The Bag With No Cat
Stupid, UK, Vet | Healthy | August 8, 2021
I am a veterinary surgeon in the middle of a very busy consulting session. I call my next appointment in — booked as “coughing” — and a man comes into my consulting room with no pet.

Me: “Where is your cat?”

Client: “Oh, she hates travelling, so I left her at home. I thought we could just discuss what to do.”

Me: “I can’t examine, diagnose, or treat a problem without actually seeing [Cat].”

Client: “So, I need to bring her, then?”

Me: “Yes.”

Client: “…”

Me: “…”

Client: “Shall I just go, then?”

Me: “Yes, please rebook for another time and bring her with you next time.”

He left. I mean… who deliberately doesn’t bring their pet for a veterinary appointment?

That’s One Ballsy Programmer
Coworkers, Funny, Health & Body, Maryland, Office, USA | Healthy | August 6, 2021
I’m a programmer and work in a room with a half dozen others. We often resort to good-natured teasing and complaining about each other, but I’m confident everyone knows it is in jest.

One of our coworkers has been making plans to be out in a few days for some surgery.

Me: “What is the surgery for, if you’re comfortable sharing?”

Coworker: “Oh, I’m an open book. I’m willing to share, but the real question is, do you really want to know? You can’t complain about it being too much information if you ask.”

Me: “Come on, tell us.”

Coworker: “Okay, you know how if someone does something really impressive, people will always say something like, ‘That guy has to have some huge cojones to do that.’?”

Me: “Yeah…?”

Coworker: “Well, it turns out that huge cojones aren’t as convenient as everyone made them out to be, and I’m apparently too awesome for my own good.”

He eventually goes on to explain that he has a hydrocele, which is some sort of liquid buildup on the outside of the testicle, making it grow larger until it gets in the way.

The day of his surgery, he is the only one not on vacation that can support some servers, so he comes in for two hours to check on the servers and have some sort of meeting before leaving for the surgery. When the time comes to leave, he has this to say.

Coworker: “Okay, folks. I hope none of you take this the wrong way, but I just realized I’d rather go get my balls chopped off than spend another moment here with all of you. See you on Monday.”