Always Getting A Stony Reception

Emergency Services, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, Patients, UK | Healthy | August 27, 2018


(I’m 22 years old, female, and reasonably healthy for my age while living away at university. When I’m home at my parents for Christmas, I suddenly get a sharp pain in the centre of my chest, radiating out to the centre of my right rib cage. It’s not too severe at first, but I cannot walk straight and end up laying on the floor for two hours.)

Mom: *sitting on my bed, trying to keep me calm, talking to the out-of-hours telephone service, as well* “This pain has never happened before; I’m not really sure what to do here.”

Phone Responder: “All right, there’s not much we can do, unfortunately; judging by your description it could be a diaphragm spasm or a fructose allergy causing the tightness. You can give her pain relief, but all we can recommend is to call your GP in the morning.”

Mom: “All right, thank you.”

(Thankfully, the pain passes in about three hours, so we figure it’s a one-time thing and continue our lives. I get more pains, like this one and worse, about two or three times a year until I’m 24, where I finally go to my GP after a particularly bad “attack” where I end up vomiting from the pain.)

Me: *describes the symptoms in detail* “I was speaking to a family friend who’s had gallstones and says she had the same pains. Could it be that?”

Doctor: “Hmm, I doubt it; you’re simply too young and too healthy for it. It’s probably acid reflux. Try some [Known Heartburn Brand] for a while and see how you get on with that.”

(I leave and do as he asks, and for a while it seems to work… until this year at the age of 25. I have a pain so bad I begin violently vomiting, begging my mom to call an ambulance because I’m convinced something inside me has ruptured because of the severity of the pain. She does, and thankfully they arrive within minutes. I’m unable to talk because of the pain, so my mom is the one having to describe everything.)

Mom: *helping me explain the pain and pointing where it is on her own body, since I’m curled up into a ball on the bathroom floor* “She’s had these pains before, but never this bad. We don’t like to bother emergency services unless it’s severe.”

Paramedic: “We’ll try paracetamol and [heartburn medicine] first to see if that helps. Is that okay?”

(I nod, and the paramedics do as they promised, but after 20 minutes the pain is still worsening and I’m not able to think on anything else anymore. I can’t breathe, I feel like I’m dying or I’m going to pass out, and it’s overall a terrifying experience.)

Paramedic: “All right, since that’s not helping we’re going to give her some gas and air until we can move her over to the bed and check her over, okay?”

Mom: “That’s fine; she’s definitely not allergic to anything, so she can have whatever is needed.”

(Thankfully, the gas and air dulls the pain enough for me to get off the bathroom floor onto my bed, but it’s still severe and I’m shivering from the intensity. The paramedics do all their checks, pressing on the area with the pain, which causes me to cry again.)

Paramedic: “I think she’s got something wrong with her gallbladder. It’s unusual for her age, but it’s the only explanation for this pain and the area of it. I think it would be wise for her to go to hospital to check for sludge stuck in there or stones.”

(My mom agreed, but I insisted that she stay home so she didn’t have to see me in pain anymore. Once I was in the ambulance, I was also given morphine and some anti-vomiting medicine, as I was still being sick. At the hospital, the pain was starting to fade and eventually the emergency room nurse discharged me with the diagnosis of stress from just finishing university. I was tired, delirious, and fed up at this point, so even though I tried to argue, I didn’t have the strength and I left. I went back to my GP a few weeks later, and with a note from the ambulance team included in my file with their suspicions, and my mom not letting me leave without an answer, I was booked in for an ultrasound and a blood test. The ultrasound revealed I had some of the biggest gallstones the staff had ever seen in someone of my age, and I’m now waiting on surgery to remove my entire gallbladder. Just because someone doesn’t match the “average” symptom group doesn’t mean it’s absolutely not that illness, and if I had been listened to in the first place, I wouldn’t be losing my gallbladder!)

A Teeth-Grinding Generalization

Dentist, Doctor/Physician, Instant Karma, Jerk, Nurses, USA | Healthy | August 27, 2018


(I haven’t been to the dentist for several years, but an old family friend — who cleaned my teeth when I was a child — has recently moved to the area, so I go to her for a cleaning. The following takes place with her hands and tools inside my mouth, so I can’t spit.)

Hygienist: “You really need to brush your rear teeth better. I know you can, because they’re clean right now. But your lazy brushing has caused all sorts of problems back here. And you really need to lay off the soda. Really, sugar in general. And high-acid foods and drinks. Soda is pretty much the worst, though. And greasy food isn’t much better! You clearly eat too much fast food, and it’s not good for you. Your back teeth are just falling apart because of all that junk food!”

(Her tirade continues for more than ten minutes. She lectures me like I’m still a child despite that I’m in my mid-20s, before she finally removes her hands so I can pause to rinse and spit. She immediately reaches to start again, but I hold up a hand.)

Me: “We need to get something straight. I don’t eat high-acid foods, or greasy foods. I can’t afford to eat out, even cheap fast food. And I have soda maybe once a month. And while I don’t claim to be perfect, and do occasionally forget to brush before bed when I’m exhausted, I am meticulous about cleaning all my teeth, especially the molars. The reason why they’re so bad off is that I have severe acid reflux. I have had it my whole life. I even had an ulcer a few years back. That’s why I can’t eat any of that crap, and why I can’t help my teeth being somewhat decalcified. Until my doctor and I get the reflux under control, there’s nothing I can do to improve my teeth.”

(I sat back, opened wide, and let her resume cleaning. She was silent for a few minutes, before softly starting to catch me up on the doings of her own kids, who I hadn’t seen in years and was glad to hear about. The rest of the appointment went smoothly after that, and the dentist was informed of my reflux before walking into the room, so he didn’t repeat her mistake. I ended up needing all five of my wisdom teeth removed — apparently I had an extra one — due to extreme decalcification. They were honestly getting spongy by that point. But the visit ended well, and I still go back to the same folks, sans lectures now.)

Some Pathetically Idiotic Understanding

Extra Stupid, Hospital, Language & Words, Missouri, USA | Healthy | August 26, 2018


(I am sitting in the waiting room, hoping my ankle isn’t broken, when I overhear this:)

Mom: *to dad, dragging her five-year-old girl behind her* “Yeah, the doctor said it was just idiot pathetic vomiting. We have to come in if she tries it again.”

(It took me a while to figure out this lady was trying to pronounce, “idiopathic,” meaning, “of unknown cause.” That poor kid!)

They Need A Head Doctor

Australia, Extra Stupid, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive | Healthy | August 25, 2018


(I work at the main information and patient enquiries desk for a major hospital. I get asked the full range of questions, some often way out of my scope of knowledge, but I try my best to at least point people in the right direction! People often give me very few details of what they want and just assume I will read their mind. I cannot check patients in for appointments; I must direct them to the clinic they are seeing.)

Me: “Good morning! How can I help you?”

Visitor: “[Last Name].”

Me: “Is that an inpatient you’re looking for?”

Visitor: “I have an appointment. [Last Name].”

Me: “Okay, what type of specialist are you seeing?”

Visitor: “[Last Name].”

Me: “Okay, I don’t need your name, just what type of doctor you’re seeing. What’s it for? Your heart? Bones? Lungs?”

Visitor: “[Last Name].”

Visitor’s Friend: “1:30.”

Me: *to friend* “What type of specialist?”

Visitor’s Friend: “[Last Name].”

Me: *trying so very hard to remain calm* “What. Kind. Of. Doctor?”

Visitor’s Friend: “Oh! I’m not sure. Hang on; let me check the paperwork…”

Read And Bleed

Doctor/Physician, Extra Stupid, Hospital, Norway, Patients | Healthy | August 24, 2018


(I’m rather clumsy, and this time it lands me in the ER. The doctor that’s checking me out is actually my neighbor.)

Doctor: “All right, what did you do this time?”

Me: “Well, I woke up and wanted to finish reading my book from yesterday, but I wanted to make breakfast, as well, so I walked downstairs whilst reading, and I kind of fell…”

Doctor: *long pause* “At least you read, right?”

(I managed to break a bone in my arm, and needed a cast.)

Sleeping On The Job

Australia, Bizarre, Hospital, Time | Healthy | August 22, 2018


(I work on a switchboard for a major hospital. We take all external and internal calls then direct them to the appropriate department.)

Me: “Good morning, [Hospital].”

Caller: “Hi, can I speak with someone about rescheduling my appointment?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you will need to speak to the outpatients department, and they do not open until nine am; you will have to call back a bit later!”

Caller: “Oh, what time is it now?”

Me: “It’s 8:15.”

Caller: “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was so early! I hope I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Me: “Um… No?”

(Yes, he was completely serious; he continued on the conversation as normal after that! I’ll never know if it was just an instinctive reaction for him to say that, or if he genuinely thinks we sleep when there are no calls?)

Nursing Your Unrealistic Expectations

Crazy Requests, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Illinois, Nurses, Patients, USA | Healthy | August 20, 2018


(I am an NCT — a nursing care tech — basically one rung down from a nurse. We check vitals, help transport patients for surgeries or procedures, track their progress and double-check their treatment plans, help patients shower or get to the bathroom, and generally make sure that nurses and patients have what they need, and that none of the patients are showing signs of any impending medical problems or complications. We are legally not allowed to give medicine, administer treatments, contact patient family members for any reason, or give medical advice. All of this information is told to the patients when they arrive, and is in the information packet all the patients are given, along with a flow chart about who to call for what problem. Additionally, in my hospital, all NCTs wear green scrubs, all nurses wear blue, and all doctors wear white. This patient, who has been here for about a week and a half, calls me in.)

Patient: “My back feels just awful. Could you go get my next dose of painkillers a little early?”

Me: “I’m not allowed to give you any medications, I’m afraid. I can go get your nurse, though, or you can call her with this number on the board. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Patient: “Well, can you adjust my IV at least?”

Me: “I can’t do that, either; I’ll have to grab your nurse.”

Patient: “What about my sister? Did you call her with the new care plan?”

Me: “That’s also the nurse; I can’t contact your family.”

Patient: “Well, what about my diagnosis? What do you think I should do?”

Me: “I’m not allowed to offer any medical advice, either. Let me call your nurse, okay? She’ll be able to help you with all of this.”

Patient: “But aren’t you going to help me?!”

Halfway House Only Gets You Halfway There

Charity, Connecticut, Emergency Services, Extra Stupid, USA | Healthy | August 19, 2018


(I’m an EMT. My partner and I are called to a homeless shelter/halfway house for a “sick call.” This means a non-life-threatening issue. We arrive and unload the stretcher. There’s about ten stairs and a small elevator right inside the door. I start to open the door of the elevator when I’m greeted by staff.)

Staff: “You’re going to the second floor. Oh, that elevator doesn’t work.”

Me: “Okay. Do you have another one?”

Staff: “Sure, it’s up here around the corner.”

Me: “Great. How can I access it?”

Staff: “Come on up the stairs and go to the end of the hall.”

Me: “That’s not going to work. Do you have another access point? A ramp, maybe?”

Staff: “We have an elevator around the corner here.”

Me: “That’s great, but if this elevator doesn’t work, how am I going to get my stretcher to the second floor?”

Staff: *exasperated* “There’s an elevator right over here! Right around the corner.”

Me: “I understand that. But how would you like me to get my stretcher up these stairs to get to that elevator?”

Staff: *blank stare*

Me: *to my partner* “Let’s just leave it here, see the patient, and figure it out from there.”

(When we got to the other elevator it was so small our stretcher wouldn’t have fit, anyway, even if we folded the back.)

Didn’t Have Anxiety, Until Now

At The Checkout, Harassment, Health & Body, Kansas, Retail, Strangers, USA | Healthy | August 18, 2018


(I am working the register at my store. My coworkers are all busy elsewhere, and it is a slow part of the day, when an old man walks up and purchases a small item. Things are going normally until I hand him his change. It should be noted that I have a mild form of adult acne.)

Customer: “Do you know you have a red thing on your face?”

(He points toward a small flare up of acne on my cheek. I blink for a moment, because while part of me knows what he’s pointing at, no one has ever said anything directly to me about it before.)

Me: “What do you mean?”

Customer: “You have a red thing on your face. I know what that is. It’s caused by anxiety.”

(I have never had anxiety issues, and now that I have confirmed what he’s talking about, I speak with a deadpan tone.)

Me: “Sir, I have acne.”

(I’ve never really been self-conscious about my acne, but I don’t like the way he’s talking about it. He takes his receipt and starts heading for the door while still talking to me.)

Customer: “Yes, and that is caused by anxiety. I have seen this before.”

(My tone has gone cold, and in my head I’m wondering why my personal health is his business.)

Me: “Sir… my mother is a nurse.”

(What I’m hoping he’ll pick up on is the implication that, “if something were seriously wrong with my face, she would know,” but he doesn’t get the hint.)

Customer: “I worked fifty-five years in medical technology maintenance.”

Me: “So, you never actually practiced medicine, then.”

Customer: “I have seen this before. It’s anxiety.”

(He then starts rambling something I don’t quite follow, but he makes it sound like he’s had bugs grow out of his own acne in the past. Or seen them grow out of acne in other people. Or maybe even caused them to grow out of other people’s skin infections. The main thing I key in on is his use of the words “grow out of,” which does not give me mental images of bacteria. It genuinely sounds like he’s talking about live insects growing out of people’s faces, which is incredibly creepy.)

Me: “Are you a doctor?”

(I ask this bluntly, trying to convey with my tone and expression that if he is not a licensed medical professional, I do NOT want his opinion on my face, and he needs to stop talking.)

Customer: “I work with medical equipment. But I have seen this before. It’s anxiety. It is.”

(Thankfully, after that the customer just kind of nodded and walked out the door. To date, he’s the creepiest customer I’ve had to serve.)

This Number Is Not Always Right

Extra Stupid, France, Medical Office, Reception | Healthy | August 17, 2018


(This takes place when I’m in college. I get a call around ten am from the secretary of a doctor’s office, saying the doctor will be late for the appointment. The secretary got the wrong number and I’m not the person she was trying to reach. As I have class all morning, I only see the missed call and the message at noon. I assume it’s too late to call back to say they have the wrong number, because the appointment was scheduled the morning, anyway, so the patient probably already went to the doctor’s office. I don’t think about it anymore, but the next day I get another call from the secretary. This time she calls while I’m on my break, so I answer.)

Secretary: “Hello, [Patient]. This is [Doctor’s Office]. I’m calling you about your file; I need some info.”

Me: “Oh, actually, you got the wrong number; I’m not [Patient].”

Secretary: “What do you mean it’s the wrong number ? It’s…” *she dictates my phone number* “…right?”

Me: “Yes, it’s my number.”

Secretary: “So it’s the right number!”

Me: “…”

Fax Of Life

Bizarre, Medical Office, New York, Non-Dialogue, Phone, USA | Healthy | August 16, 2018


When I was a kid, my family had a separate phone line for our fax machine. One day, we received a fax containing a prescription for medication for my mom’s uncle who lived a few towns away.

We were quite bewildered, as we didn’t think mom’s uncle had our fax number, nor did he have any apparent reason for sending this particular document to us. We eventually found out that our fax number was only one digit off from that of a local pharmacy, and the fax had come from a doctor’s office. Apparently someone at the office was trying to send the prescription to the pharmacy but misdialed.

It was a complete coincidence that the prescription just happened to be for someone we knew.

Has No Heart For Your Condition

Doctor/Physician, Florida, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | August 15, 2018


(My father was recently diagnosed with a genetic heart condition, and his doctors want all of his children to be checked for the condition. I make an appointment with my doctor so I can get a referral to a cardiologist.)

Doctor: “What are you here for today?”

Me: “My father was just diagnosed with [heart condition], and his doctors have ordered all of his kids to be tested for it. I just need a referral to a cardiologist.”

Doctor: “You’re way too young to be worrying about that. A heart condition wouldn’t affect you right now.”

Me: *initially speechless* “Well, I’d rather get the tests done so it isn’t a problem later.”

Doctor: “As I said, you’re too young. I’ll see you back in a few months for your annual.”

(The doctor left. Needless to say, that doctor did not see me back again. When the practice asked why I was attempting to switch doctors — something they usually don’t allow — I happily told them the whole story and requested that it be put on the doctor’s file as an official complaint. I eventually got the referral and did not have the genetic condition, but they did find a minor issue that just needed to be noted and checked every few years.)

Has More Than Just Teething Problems

Bad Behavior, Dentist, Patients, Pennsylvania, USA | Healthy | August 14, 2018


(My dad is a dentist, and his office is a suite attached to the house. As a child, I am home sick from school, and Dad is with a patient. The door to the office chimes, followed by a long bang. By the time his hygienist comes out to check, the waiting room is empty. Meanwhile, I wake up to a man standing at the foot of my bed. I yell in a panic, and he looks strangely at me, and then puts a hand to his cheek.)

Patient: “I know my appointment isn’t until tomorrow, but this is killing me. Can you fit me in today?”

(Sick and scared, I kept yelling until my dad came running in, still wearing his mask. The patient had walked into the waiting room and, finding it empty, had broken down the door between the office and the house. Then, he had wandered through the house until he found the ten-year-old asleep in bed, and tried to reschedule his appointment. My father was furious and refused to work on him. The guy was surprised.)

“The Adventures Of Harold, Benjy, And Carmen” Sounds Awesome

Colorado, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Jerk, Patients, Therapist, USA | Healthy | August 13, 2018


(I’m in a short-term rehab center, recovering from surgery. A speech therapist comes in with a form in her hands.)

Therapist: “Good morning! I’ll just take a couple of minutes here to see how your speech and language skills are, all right?”

Me: “I suppose.”

(I teach special needs, and immediately recognize the form; it’s the mental acuity screener. BAH!)

Therapist: “Can you tell me where you are?”

(This goes on for awhile, and I’m getting irritated.)

Therapist: “Now, would you name these three animals?”

(She shows me sketch of a lion, an elephant, and a hippo.)

Me: “How about Harold, Benjy, and Carmen?”

Therapist: *silent*

Me: “Well, the task as phrased was to name the animals. If it were stated correctly, you would have asked me to identify the animals, and I would have told you they were a lion, elephant, and hippo.”

Therapist: *silent, but grinning*

Me: “And the number they told me to remember when I had this identical screening in the hospital was 74.”

The Seated Dead

Health & Body, Liars/Scammers, Retail, USA, Washington | Healthy | August 12, 2018


(I work as the customer service manager for a furniture store. While I am at lunch they make a sale of a chair from the floor. Floor sales are final. I get back from lunch and the phone rings.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. How can I help?”

Customer: “I was in earlier and bought a chair off your floor for my husband. I got home and my son told me he had the same one, so I want my money back.”

Me: *not knowing if it was special order or from the floor* “Let me check your order.”

(I pull up the invoice and see that it’s a floor item, and that she also signed the paperwork acknowledging that the sale was final.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but you purchased this from the floor. All floor sales are final.”

Customer: “But my son has the same one. I bought this for my husband so he can be comfortable, because he’s going through chemo and it’s hard for him. I don’t want the chair anymore! You have to give me my money back!”

Me: “I’m sorry that you and your husband are going through that, but you signed the paperwork acknowledging that this was a final sale.”

Customer: “You have to give me my money back! I want to speak to your manager!”

(I wave the manager over and she tells the woman the same thing. The customer huffs but gets off the phone. The next day:)

Me: *answers the phone* “Thank you for calling [Store]. How can I help?”

Customer: *from yesterday* “I bought a chair and don’t want it anymore. Give me a refund.”

Me: “Ma’am, as we explained yesterday, all floor sales are final. You agreed to this and signed the paperwork.”

Customer: *bursts into tears* “But I bought that chair to make things easier for my husband and he just died!”

(I can’t help but think, “Right, because the first thing I’d do after my husband passed would be to get a refund on a chair.”)

Me: “Let me get the manager.”

(I pass the phone to my manager who talks to the woman for about five minutes and decides it’s easier to just give her the refund. A couple months later, I answer the phone.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. How can I help?”

Customer: *with the chair* “Listen, [Manager], I’m looking at my statement and the money hasn’t been refunded yet. I want my money back!”

Me: “This isn’t [Manager]; this is [My Name].”

(Before I can say anything else, she cuts me off.)

Customer: “Well, I want my money back. I’m having to drive my husband to and from chemo all the time, and I’m financially hurting. Get me my money!”

(I pass the phone to my manager, who talks for a few minutes and hangs up.)

Manager: *to me* “I thought her husband died?”

Me: “It’s a miracle!”

Their Etiquette Has A Few Developmental Issues

Florida, Jerk, Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, Patients, Strangers, USA | Healthy | August 11, 2018


When I was around twelve I began experiencing repeated and painful skin infections in practically every scrape or scratch I got. This led to very frequent visits to my pediatrician for, at first, prescription strength antibiotic ointments, and then multiple tests to find out the cause of the infections. My doctors were amazing. But their other patients… not so much.

One experience that sticks out is the day I went in to get a blood draw. We were fairly early, so my mom and I waited out in the empty lobby. I tended to sit with one leg folded under me and the other knee pulled up to my chest so I could “crouch” on the chair and balance my Harry Potter book on my foot so I could read. It looked odd to most people, but I’ve always found it comfortable.

Not long after we settled in, another mother — a very rude lady — and her son came in. Though we didn’t know them by name, the pair were not unfamiliar to us, as we saw them around town often and the son had been doing occupational therapy with a partner at my mom’s company. The rude lady’s son had some fairly significant physical and mental handicaps and was vocal but nonverbal, and was, through no fault of his own, already making loud sounds and yells as his mother physically dragged him into the lobby.

Instead of sitting in any of the other empty twenty odd seats, the rude lady pulled her son over and sat down directly across from us, with about two feet of aisle space separating our knees. The rude lady immediately struck up conversation with my mom, while I continued reading.

They seemed to be getting along fine, and I tuned them out until I caught this lovely gem, seemingly out of nowhere: the rude lady suddenly leaned forward, patted my mom on the knee, and said in the most condescending and mock-sympathetic voice, “Is she mentally r*****ed?”

This, of course, caught my attention. My mom was staring at her in shock when I looked up and said, “Wow, that’s rude, lady. Just because your kid has some problems doesn’t mean everyone else’s does.”

In hindsight, this was quite cruel of me to say, and I regret saying it every time I think back to this experience. In private, my mom scolded me for pulling the rude lady’s son into it, and she was very right to do so.

The strangest thing out of it all, though, was that once the rude lady got over sputtering a few choice slurs at us, she roughly grabbed her son’s arm and marched out of the pediatrician’s office. Only afterwards did we realize she had never gone up to the front desk to check in or schedule an appointment. It seemed that her entire reason for coming in was to engage with another mother-child duo in the hope that she would find someone else going through the same experiences as her.

With A Mother Like That, Pain Tolerance Is Through The Roof

Georgia, Hospital, Jerk, Non-Dialogue, Nurses, Parents/Guardians, Patients, USA | Healthy | August 10, 2018


I am seven months pregnant, and my friend picks me up for a girl’s night. We watch movies, eat junk food, etc., until she falls asleep about one am. At two, I’m still up, unable to get comfortable. I’ve been having Braxton Hicks contractions for the last couple of days, but tonight they’re just relentless.

I consider waking my friend up to take me home; however, she has epilepsy, often triggered by exhaustion and lack of sleep. She’s a bit of a worry-wort, and I don’t want to have her be tired, panic, and end up having a seizure, especially while we’re on the road.

About six am, I get a hold of my mother, and she agrees to come get me. By this point, the contractions hurt, and I can’t really sit or stand. But I don’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill, so I just grit my teeth and breathe until they’re over. Once there, my mom tells me that she doesn’t really know how to help me, but that she’s going to take me to the hospital, just in case there’s a problem.

When we get to the hospital, I have to stop every couple of steps to breathe and crouch over. My mother comments, “You don’t have a very high pain tolerance, do you? You’ve never really been able to handle pain.”

I ignore her comment because she’s been saying this since I was a kid. Once we finally make it to labor and delivery, the nurse — who has a really cool tattoo sleeve — tests for leaking amniotic fluid, and checks my cervix. She makes a less than promising face, then tells me that she’s going to grab another nurse for another opinion.

She comes back with an older lady that doesn’t even look at me. They go to the counter and I hear the nurse with the sleeve showing her the amniotic test. “It’s faint, but I definitely see a line.” The older nurse glances at it and quickly dismisses her, “No, no. It’s definitely negative.” The sleeved nurse says, “No, I think it’s positive for fluid. Can you at least check her cervix? I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I think it’s close.” The older nurse rolls her eyes, “It isn’t close to her due date, but fine.”

The older nurse then turns to me and goes to check my cervix. Her eyes widen, and she turns back to the nurse with the sleeve. Unfortunately, I have another contraction and only manage to catch a couple key words of their conversation. Then, the older nurse leaves. The sleeved nurse gently talks me through the contraction, and then tells me what’s going on:

At 29 weeks, I am in labor, already eight centimeters dilated, though my water hasn’t broken. The baby could come at any time now, but they are going to try to give me some medications to slow it down. She says that she is going to call the doctor to get approval on some pain medication for me.

Six hours later, I give birth to a healthy baby girl, who is rushed off to the NICU. I silently labored for almost 12 hours, and almost had my baby at my friend’s house. After everything calms down, I am bewildered at my mother’s “low pain tolerance” comment, and I wonder what would’ve happened if I had only seen the older nurse and not had the sleeved nurse to stand up for me. The sleeved nurse was the most amazing healthcare professional I’d ever had, because for the first time, she took what I said seriously. My daughter is doing well, and will hopefully be able to come home soon. My mother still believes that I’m over-dramatic and wimpy when it comes to pain, but at least I can say I went through most of my labor without medication or complaint.

Not Being Sedate About It

Australia, Jerk, Vet | Healthy | August 10, 2018


(I’m a vet in a country town in Australia. Here, certain prescription drugs for farm animals can be dispensed for use without us seeing the animals, as long as a vet has been onto the property in the previous 12 months. This is rarely an issue, as we go to most farms on a regular basis to do routine work; however, I have trained the receptionists to check a client’s file every time they order drugs, just to confirm when we were last out there. For some background info, a common practice for shearing sheep is to sedate full grown rams, just enough to make them a bit easier to handle, as rams can often weigh as much or more than your average shearer, and can hurt you if they decide to put up a fight. These days, almost all shearers refuse to shear rams without sedation. The sedative used is, of course, a prescription drug, although to my knowledge it is no longer used in people. I haven’t been at this practice very long, so I don’t really know anyone. My boss, on the other hand, has been a vet for a while and knows just about everyone in the community. I’m sure you can see where this is going:)

Receptionist: “[Client] is out the front, wanting [Sedative] for 60 rams. The shearers are coming today, but we haven’t been to the property in over four years. He won’t listen to me at all. Can you please talk to him?”

Me: *heading out to front desk* “Hello, [Client], I believe you’re wanting [Sedative]? [Receptionist] has already told you we can’t give it to you. We haven’t been to your farm for a while now.”

Client: “That’s bulls***. [Boss] gives it to me all the time!”

Me: “Well, I’m not [Boss], so I’m not giving it to you without a farm visit.”

Client: “Come on. Everyone knows I’ve got sheep. What the h*** else would I use [Sedative] for?”

Me: “I don’t know, but people get creative. I don’t know who you are, and I’ve never been to your farm, so I have no idea if you actually have sheep or not.”

Client: “So, you’re going to charge me to come out to my property so that you can see I’m not lying to you. That’s bulls***.”

Me: “That’s exactly right, [Client]. It’s the law. If I get caught dispensing drugs inappropriately, I can get into serious trouble and possibly lose my licence, permanently. I am not prepared to risk years of hard work and a job I love just so you can save $150. Just because [Boss] does it, that does not mean I have to do it. So, either I come out to your farm, or you wait until [Boss] is back in the clinic, and you can take it up with him.”

Client: “Oh…” *suddenly goes very quiet* “I didn’t know you guys could get in trouble.”

Me: “That’s okay. I suspect [Boss] doesn’t, either, which is probably why he just gives it out. Now, I can be at your farm in about an hour; will that be okay?”

Client: “Yes, thank you.”

(Everything went smoothly after that, and [Client] even gave me a box of chocolates to apologise for being difficult. My boss very quickly changed how he worked once I showed him the legislation, and backed me up if other clients ever came in to argue. The original client was also good enough to spread the word around town, and within six months we stopped having issues.)

Derpy With The Herpy

College & University, Extra Stupid, Health & Body, New York, Rude & Risque, USA | Healthy | August 9, 2018


(I’m visiting a zoology lab that researches amphibians, which is a facility I’ve never been in before. While I’m sitting in an office chatting with a PhD student and waiting for a meeting, I notice a post-it that says “Clinic” and has a phone number.)

Me: “Hey, that’s not the extension for student health.”

PhD Student: “Oh, no, that’s a [City] free clinic. They do STI testing.”

Me: “Uh… Okay.”

PhD Student: “Yeah, it gets more use than you’d think around here.”

(My understanding of what the amphibian lab gets up to slowly starts to dissolve, when the PhD student speaks up again.)

PhD Student: “Yeah… People just Google ‘herpetology’ without knowing what it means, apparently.”

Prescribing You The Ability To Listen

Jerk, Minnesota, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | August 9, 2018


(It’s Memorial Day, and my pharmacy is one of the few within a 20-mile radius that is open. My coworker is on break and I am managing the front of the pharmacy.)

Me: “Hi, sir, how I can help you today?”

Customer: “I’m here to pick up two prescriptions for [Customer].”

Me: “All right, sir, it looks like I have one prescription ready for you, but the other prescription — your [Prescription] — we’re still waiting to hear back from your doctor for more refills.”

Customer: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THEY’RE NOT DONE?!”

Me: “There is one prescription done and ready for you to pick up, sir. The other prescription you requested, your [Prescription], isn’t, because we haven’t heard back from your doctor yet.”

Customer: “I HATE THIS PLACE! YOU GUYS NEVER HAVE ANYTHING DONE! I BROUGHT TWO PRESCRIPTIONS IN ON FRIDAY, AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THEY’RE STILL NOT DONE?!”

Me: “Sir, I have one prescription ready for you right now.” *pause* “The other one is still waiting on your doctor for approval, and since it’s Memorial Day, we may not hear back from your doctor until tomorrow.”

Customer: “You guys are horrible! You never have anything done for me! I hate it here!” *walks off*

(After he walked away, I looked back at the screen to see when he brought in the prescriptions. And turns out, he brought them in yesterday, not Friday. But either way, we still had one he could have taken home with him.)

Shame You Can’t Prescribe Any Common Sense

California, Extra Stupid, Medical Office, Patients, San Francisco, USA | Healthy | August 8, 2018


Doctor: “How did the new medications work for you?”

Patient: “I’m still waiting for them! The pharmacy still hasn’t called to let me know they are ready to pick up!”

Doctor: “Did the insurance deny the medications?”

Patient: “No, I didn’t hear any response from the insurance yet, either!”

Doctor: “Really? Which pharmacy did you take the prescription to? I can give them a call to check on this.”

Patient: “Oh, I never took it to the pharmacy. I still have the prescription here in my wallet!”

Not At Your Cervix

Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Jerk, Patients, USA, Utah |
Healthy | August 8, 2018

(My 26-year-old sister has had problems with endometriosis for five years. She is on medications that she hates, and has thousands of dollars worth of medical bills as a result. She doesn’t want children, and has decided to have her uterus removed, with the support of her therapist, OBGYN, and our family. Because she has never had children, they will have to do the surgery like a C-section, which will have a six-week recovery time, and she cannot take that much time off of work. Her OBGYN recommends her to another doctor who uses robotic-assisted equipment, so she will have a shorter recovery period. She goes to meet with the other OBGYN. The nurse is taking her history, and you can see the judgement on her face. A few minutes later, the OBGYN comes in.)

OB: “I’m not going to try to talk you out of it… Okay, I am. You are very young to have this procedure, and many women who are younger than 30 end up regretting the surgery once it is complete. And you aren’t married; your future husband might want children.”

(He keeps repeating that he isn’t trying to talk her out of it before contradicting himself as he goes on to suggest several other medications — most of which she’s already tried — that caused her to gain weight, suffer severe anxiety and depression, and give her suicidal thoughts. She is extremely sensitive to side effects. Finally, the doctor suggests another medication she hasn’t tried, but has side effects she has suffered before.)

Sister: “No, but I have researched it, and I don’t like the side effects.”

OB: *pointing at nurse* “She’s been on it for eight years, and she’s just fine.”

Mom: “She would rather be an aunt. She has never had any desire to have children, and she is tired of being in pain.”

(It seemed like once he knew my sister had my mother’s approval, he realized he was fighting a losing game. He sighed and gave up, and told us how they would do the procedure, and that they would get in touch with her insurance. Later, my sister told me that she believed the doctor would have flat-out refused to do the surgery if my mother hadn’t been there to back her up, and two weeks after the appointment, she called to check up on what her insurance could do, only to be told they hadn’t even contacted them yet.)

Severely In Need Of A Cruise

California, Extra Stupid, Medical Office, Patients, San Francisco, USA | Healthy | August 7, 2018


Patient: “I’ve been waiting for a half hour. I am in severe pain and need treatment urgently!”

Doctor: “I’m sorry about that. I want to get you treated as quickly as possible. Let’s walk over right now to the Physical Therapy department. Chiropractic treatments have worked well for you in the past, and we can set you up for some chiropractic treatments right now.”

Patient: “Oh, no, I can’t do that. I am leaving on a vacation cruise for a month. I’ll call to schedule when I get back.”

Talking Back To Your Parents

California, Extra Stupid, Health & Body, home, Non-Dialogue, Parents/Guardians, USA | Healthy | August 6, 2018


At some point when I was a kid, my father got the bright idea of using me for weight-bearing massage “treatments” by having me walk about on his back barefoot while he was lying on the floor. Mom usually gave me a hand to keep me stable. I have no clue if it ever worked to actually help with anything, but he kept periodically having me do it. When I was little I still thought it was fun.

His back seemed to gradually get worse as I grew older: lower spine problems. He mostly stopped having me do the walking massages as I aged into my teens.

Then one day when I was 17, when I hadn’t done it in several years, he seemed to be having some particularly bad back pains, and decided to have me stand on his back again. For some reason he was just absolutely convinced it would magically cure him, and somehow managed to rope Mom into agreeing with this. The problem is that at this point I weighed about 115 pounds — only about 15 pounds less than him — and could tell this was a terrible idea.

I refused. He insisted. I refused again and protested, pointing it out as being foolish and dangerous at my weight relative to his — he is a man of very slight and narrow build. He called me ridiculous. He and Mom both kept insisting, urging, and nagging me, and telling me I was being ridiculous. “Nothing will happen!” “Come on, it’s just a few minutes!” “Just stand on his back for a bit!” “Come on! Just help out your dad!” “It has to be you; there’s no one else, and you still weigh a lot less than Mom!”

After much protesting from me and nonstop insistence and urging — from Mom in particular, who’s always been very good at managing to bully me into doing just about anything against my will — I gave in, despite my better judgment. I very shakily stepped up on Dad’s bare back. His skin was sliding around sickeningly on his back under my feet. I nearly fell off right away, despite Mom doing her best to hold me up there, barely managing to stabilize me with her own entire weight. Meanwhile, he was very impatiently urging me to quit hesitating and being a coward, and get on with it already.

When I finally managed to stand on him properly, putting my entire weight on his back, he grunted alarmingly. Very alarmingly. And then he went abruptly very quiet. After maybe a couple of steps on him, Mom helped me get back off. Then, there were some very pointed, meaningful and alarmed looks between the two of them, but they didn’t actually say anything. I took this to mean I could finally escape the living room. Frankly, I just didn’t much care what was going on as long as I was no longer forced to participate.

There was a quiet commotion behind my back and for the rest of the day, I kind of made a point not to ask any questions for fear of being made to take part in some other poorly-thought-out treatment.

Though they’d never included me in important family concerns or given me any details about dad’s health problems, the general state of things became obvious to me in the next couple of days. What they’d made me do was indeed — Surprise! Surprise! — an incredibly terrible idea. Clearly I was too heavy, and it damaged his back even further. It was pretty severe, as far as I could tell, based the fact that he’d been forced to stay home from work for the next full week while spending pretty much all his time lying flat on the floor, except for occasional doctor’s appointments that Mom somehow had to find a way to cart him to.

Despite knowing it was stupid, I still felt guilty about what happened.

They didn’t say anything to me beyond a vague statement that Dad’s back had gotten worse — as if it was actually even possible to pretend that this had no relation with what they’d made me do. But there was never any hint of admitting that they’d done something foolish or that I’d been right. Unsurprisingly, in the following years, it became clear that Dad’s back was significantly damaged forever after this incident.

Lesson to be learned here: once in a while a teenager really does turn out to be smarter and have more basic common sense than both parents put together.

Title Goes He—Pork Chop!

California, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, Patients, San Francisco, USA | Healthy | August 6, 2018


Doctor: “Did you bring your MRI?”

Patient: “I drove home to get my MRI, and, yes, I got it; but when I was there I was looking in the refrigerator and I saw pork chops, and I started thinking about pork chops for dinner and how great those are going to be! Well, the pork chops forced the MRI out of my mind, and I forgot all about the MRI and left it on the kitchen table!”

Same Old Tired Story

Bizarre, Hospital, Nurses, Patients, Tennessee, USA | Healthy | August 6, 2018


(My nurse recounts this story to my father, her coworker, after I wake up from appendix surgery.)

Nurse: “I’m getting her to recovery and expecting her to be out for another few minutes when she suddenly sits up, turns to me, and tells me in the most deadpan voice, ‘Hey, I’m going to throw up now. Sorry,’ and spews. Then she makes a face, lays back down, and falls right back asleep.”

Dad: *snorts* “Funny thing is, sleep-walking and -talking runs in our family. I do it, and my sister does it. It wouldn’t surprise me if my daughter does, too.”

Nurse: “She warned me. Maybe she just woke up for a minute.”

Dad: “She’s a teenager. She hasn’t been awake since she was twelve.”

(And that’s when I ACTUALLY woke up from the surgery and started grumbling about feeling groggy. Either way, I don’t remember puking, or telling the nurse I was going to. And to be fair to my dad, it’s ten years later, and I’m STILL always tired.)

Will Fight You On This Tooth And Nail

Dentist, Extra Stupid, France, Patients | Healthy | August 5, 2018


(I study dentistry at a dental clinic in France. The dental clinic is split into what we call services: surgery, prosthetics, urgent care, etc. That means that a patient who wants the teeth we remove to be replaced by a prosthesis needs to coordinate his appointments with both services. It’s more complicated than just going to a regular dentist, but in France clinics make you pay exactly what healthcare reimburses, making it free for everyone, apart from “better” acts, like implants. The basic stuff is 100% covered, though, and that’s why poor people come here. Every service is clearly labeled. I have this interaction while working in the surgery service, with a patient who has six teeth left, and NO prosthesis.)

Me: “So, according to your file, we have to remove those three teeth.”

Patient: “But you will replace them, right?”

Me: “It says in your file that you have an appointment in prosthesis; they will take care of it.”

Patient: “But I want you to do it now! It’s in two months!”

(It is rather urgent that his teeth be removed, as they have already become infected in the past.)

Me: “Ah, well, then, we can remove the teeth now, and you can go to your planned appointment. In fact, it’s not that bad; we require about two to three months of healing before we can make a fully-functional prosthesis.”

Patient: “What will I do without my teeth, though? I’d rather stay like this and come back in two months!”

(The teeth we’re talking about are premolars. His front teeth, the incisors, are long gone, as are his back teeth, his molars. The premolars serve no purpose if they’re not surrounded or faced by other teeth.)

Me: “Are you sure? They could get infected again and cause you a lot of pain. They’re of no use to you, you can’t eat with them, and we don’t see them when you smile.”

Patient: “I want to keep them! What would I do without them?”

(I don’t know, the exact same thing you’ve been doing for the past ten years with your six remaining rotten teeth? He ended up leaving and refused any care. Bet he’ll b**** and moan when, in two months, they tell him they can’t do a nice prosthesis for two other months…)

Interesting Germinating Little Minds

Funny Kids, Health & Body, home, Non-Dialogue, USA | Healthy | August 4, 2018


When I was little, my mom was trying to teach me to wash my hands after I went to the bathroom. She told me that germs would climb onto my hands from the toilet, and that if I didn’t wash my hands to kill them, they might make me sick.

At that time, I didn’t realize that she meant that there were germs already on the toilet, and thus even flushing the toilet would contaminate my hands. I thought she meant that as I went to the bathroom, the germs would climb up my body, specifically trying to get to my hands so they could make me sick.

This led to a few years of me using the bathroom while holding my hands as far out as I could, so that the germs would have farther to climb. If my arms touched my upper body, for example, the germs could take the shortcut through my elbows and get to my hands sooner. If I took too long, there were germs all over my hands, and I needed to wash them. If I was fast enough, though, the germs hadn’t had a chance to get to my hands, and I didn’t have to wash them.

I am very sure that that was not the lesson my mother meant to teach me, but it’s the lesson my young self learned.

Very Bad Reception, Part 22

Bad Behavior, Medical Office, Reception, UK | Healthy | August 3, 2018


(The doctors I am with primarily deal with “on the day” appointments, because let’s face it, you can’t schedule when you will be ill. They open at 8:00 am on the dot, and as I’m used to the fact they are busy, I start phoning at 7:59, hitting redial until I get the, “Welcome to…” automated message and not the, “The surgery is closed,” automated message. I’m aiming to be early in the queue of callers trying to get an appointment. Thankfully I get through quickly, having been second in the queue, and ask for an appointment to see a doctor. The receptionist is female, but my doctor is male.)

Receptionist: “Why do you want to see a doctor?”

Me: *politely* “I really would rather not discuss my medical issues with you, and would rather speak to my doctor about it.”

(This is my right here in the UK.)

Receptionist: “But I need to know why you want to see a doctor.”

Me: “I really am uncomfortable discussing it with you.”

Receptionist: “Unless you tell me exactly why you want to see a doctor, you will not today, or at any point, be able to get an appointment!”

Me: *losing my cool* “You are breaching every policy your practice has. I would like to speak to the practice manager, immediately.”

Receptionist: “There will be a short wait.”

(Thirty minutes later I was still on hold, and got another receptionist asking why I was holding for so long. I was put through to the practice manager, who was NOT aware I was waiting. I explained to the practice manager what had happened. I was advised I could come in immediately and see a doctor. I was given time with the doctor to go over my health concerns, which were legitimate concerns, but thankfully came to nothing serious. The first receptionist was made to apologise to me, and when I went back for a follow-up a month later, I was told she was no longer working there. I found out she had been doing this before, but it hadn’t been picked up on as people either caved, or just didn’t complain!)

Very Bad Reception, Part 21

Canada, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, Quebec, Reception | Healthy | January 18, 2018


(There is a small medical clinic where I live. Usually, for walk-in patients, you get to the door very early, wait until they open it, then head for the desk, where you are assigned an appointment time for the day depending on the order of arrival. Usually, people behave and do not jump forward. Rarely, but sometimes, the clinic isn’t full, and going in mid-morning, you might still get a spot. It’s about 11, and I feel I might have a feminine infection. I stop by the clinic to see if there’s room.)

Secretary: “I’m sorry. There’s a new phone system in place. Now you have to call in the morning and leave your name and phone number. Someone will call you back with the time of your appointment.”

Me: “Well, I’m right here. Can’t you just give me a time?”

Secretary: “No, you have to call.”

Me: “Okay, fine.”

(I make two steps to the side, pick up my cellphone, take the card she gave me with the phone number, and start dialing. The secretary looks at me.)

Secretary: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Calling for an appointment. You said I absolutely had to call.”

Secretary: “Ugh… Okay, I’ll give you one.”

(I believe she suddenly realized that I would have left my info on the answering machine, that she would have listen to it, then call me back with the time, all while I was standing in front of her.)

Very Bad Reception, Part 20

Music | Working | April 21, 2017


(I work at a market research firm. Part of my job involves calling the manufacturers of high-tech devices to interview them. Some of the companies I call are very large, and others are quite small family firms. Some of the smaller companies have local radio stations on instead of hold music. Usually these are country music stations with ads about farm equipment. One time though:)

Me: “Hello, this is [My Name] calling from [Company]. Could I be connected with [Project Manager], please?”

Receptionist: “Sure thing. Please hold.”

Me: “Okay.”

Hold Music: *really loud gangsta rap* “MY MONEY AND MY HOES!”

(I started laughing so hard I had to hang up and call back again.)

Very Bad Reception, Part 19

Bosses & Owners, Jerk, Lazy/Unhelpful, Office, Spouses & Partners, UK | Working | November 27, 2017


Receptionist: “Hello, [Business].”

Me: “Hi. Could I please speak to [Manager], please?”

Receptionist: *click*

(I phone again, thinking I was just disconnected by accident.)

Receptionist: “Hello, [Business].”

Me: “Hi, I think—”

Receptionist: *click*

(Knowing she actually cut me off this time, I phone back again.)

Receptionist: “Hello, [Business].”

Me: “Why do you keep cutting me off?!”

Receptionist: “Because this is a cold call, and I’m told to hang up on them.”

Me: “Actually, I’m [Manager]’s husband, and I’d like to speak to him.”

Receptionist: “Yeah, right!” *laughing* “I’ve met his wife.” *click*

(Having had enough, I decide to just drive down.)

Receptionist: *smiling brightly* “Hello, welcome to [Business]. How can I help you?”

Me: “I’d like to speak to [Manager].”

Receptionist: “What reason do you have to speak to him? Do you have an appointment?”

Me: “I’m his husband, and no.”

(She realises who I am and sneers.)

Receptionist: *sarcastically* “Really? You’re that desperate?”

(Coincidently, my husband happens to walk by.)

Husband: “[My Name]? What are you doing here?”

Receptionist: “You know this degenerate?” *smugly* “I was just about to have him removed.”

Husband: “What? Why? He’s my husband!”

(The receptionist blushes and we stand in awkward silence for a few seconds.)

Me: *to the receptionist* “You want to explain?”

(The receptionist stammered through her explanation, with me inserting her claim that he had a wife after she neglected to mention it. My husband actually found it hilarious. She isn’t allowed near the phones anymore, though.)

Very Bad Reception, Part 18

Medical Office | Working | December 14, 2016


(I’m not the best at keeping track of things on the calendar. I realize that I have not booked an appointment to get my daughter’s follow up vaccines, so I call one morning.)

Me: “Hi, my daughter needs to get her booster shots. I’m afraid I’ve put this off by two months.”

Receptionist: “No problem. You can bring her in this morning.”

Me: “Oh! Perfect! Thanks! We’ll be in soon.”

(She takes my daughter’s name and info. I hung up and began to gather what we’d need for our time out of the house. Just as I reach the front door with diaper bag, book, and baby, the phone rings.)

Me: “Hello?”

Receptionist: “Hi. This is [Receptionist] from [Doctor’s Office].”

Me: “Yes?”

Receptionist: “I’m afraid your daughter won’t be able to get her booster shots on a walk-in basis today as she is two months past schedule.”

Me: “Oh, yes, I know we’re late. What should I do then?”

Receptionist: “You’ll have to call for an appointment.”

Me: “Can I make the appointment now?”

Receptionist: “No. You’ll have to call to make an appointment.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I hang up, look up the number (this was before caller ID), and call the doctor’s office.)

Receptionist: *same voice as before* “Hello, [Doctor’s Office]. [Receptionist] speaking. How can I help you?”

Me: “Yeah, I’m calling to make an appointment for my daughter to get her booster shots.”

Receptionist: “Oh, you don’t need to call for that. She can get them as a walk in.”

Me: “No, I’ve put it off too long. I was told we’ll need an appointment.”

Receptionist: “No, you can just walk in.”

Me: “I was told by you that we’d need an appointment.”

Receptionist: “No, you can just walk in.”

Me: “You called me not three minutes ago saying we’d need an appointment.”

Receptionist: “No, you can just walk in.”

Me: “Okay, instead, I’ll be picking up my daughter’s medical records. We’ll be changing doctors. How soon can I get those?”

Receptionist: “Changing doctors? Why?”

Me: “Just please get the records together. I’ll pick them up in an hour.”

(We did change doctors. Sad, because I liked that one. But dealing with the receptionist was more than I could take.)

All Doctors To Procreation Stations!

Doctor/Physician, England, Jerk, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | August 2, 2018


(I’ve been having stabbing pains in my abdomen and eventually go, by myself, to the doctor surgery. I am also a “Miss,” as in, not married.)

Doctor: “I see you have PCOS. This pain could just be that.”

Me: “I know there’s pain related to that, but it’s not in the right places and does not feel the same.”

Doctor: “Okay.”

(He’s reading my notes, which surprises me, as other doctors at this surgery don’t.)

Doctor: “You know, it’s not as bad as you may think. There’s a lot we can do now to make sure you can have children now.” *goes on a really long spiel about getting pregnant and having kids, etc.* “Do you want me to arrange an appointment to discuss it with [Doctor]? Or would you like to discuss it with your partner first?”

Me: *thoroughly bewildered* “Um… No, thanks.”

Doctor: “You should talk to your partner about it. He might want kids whilst you’re both young.”

(He went on about PCOS more and having kids, before going back to the reason I was there in the first place. I get making sure I knew that there were options for kids in the future, but I don’t have a partner, and don’t want kids –which he didn’t check before going on about it — and that wasn’t the reason why I was there.)

You’ll Stress-Knit A Whole Outfit At This Point

Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Massachusetts, Medical Office, Psychiatrist, USA | Healthy | August 1, 2018


(I’m waiting to see my psychiatrist for a medication check-up. This office schedules meds appointments in fifteen-minute blocks; they’re a quick in-and-out to make sure the meds are working before the prescription is refilled. I arrive five minutes before my appointment and am told I’m seeing a new doctor. I’m a little annoyed that they didn’t tell me this when the appointment was being set up — my father works in the mental health field and I’m uncomfortable being seen by his coworkers — but whatever; maybe my regular doctor is out sick. So, I go to the waiting room. And wait. And wait. At twenty minutes past my appointment time — so, five minutes after it is supposed to be over — I hear the receptionists chatting. They say something about the new doctor having computer problems. Okay, stuff happens. Forty minutes past my appointment time, the person who is waiting before me gets into a shouting match with the receptionists about how late things are running. I’m frustrated too, but an extra person yelling won’t change anything, and I have plenty of time, so I keep waiting. Finally, fifty minutes after my scheduled time, a harried-looking man calls my name and introduces himself as the doctor. I’m expecting him to apologize for the delay, or offer an explanation, or anything. Nope. He doesn’t say a word until we get to his office. Now my appointment starts in earnest.)

Doctor: “So, do think you’re depressed?”

Me: *pause* “This appointment is literally to treat my diagnosed depression, so, um, yeah.”

(He doesn’t respond at all to this. He doesn’t even look at me. He has a walking desk, so he’s power-walking in place while he types on his computer. And he keeps typing. For almost ten minutes. I almost stand up and walk out. But I’ve already been here forever, I don’t want to have to do this all again, and I need my meds refilled. So, I take out my knitting and work on that for a bit.)

Doctor: “Do you want to keep taking [Medication #1 ] and [Medication #2]?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

(He types for a few more minutes.)

Doctor: “I’ve sent in the prescriptions for those. I’ll see you again in five months.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(I get up to leave.)

Doctor: “Wow! You’re so fast at knitting! What are you making?”

Me: “A sweater. Bye.”

(I was at that office for over an hour, but in the appointment for less than fifteen minutes. He said almost nothing to me, and half of what he did say was about knitting. And when I went to the pharmacy, only one of the prescriptions had actually been sent over!)

No Spoonful Of Sugar Is Helping This Medicine Go Down

Bad Behavior, Florida, Jerk, Patients, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | July 31, 2018


(When you come to pick up a prescription, I have to make sure it’s going to the right person or I get written up and, if I get written up enough times, lose my job. This particular pharmacy asks that we verify the address on file, but if they don’t know it, I’ll usually take some other manner of verification if necessary. It’s late, and there’s an hour and a half left to go of a seven-hour day, and all I want to do is go home, so I admit I’m a bit tired. A guy comes up who couldn’t be more than 22, I’d guess, and I smile and go to the register, asking him who he’s picking up for.)

Guy: “My girlfriend.”

Me: “Okay. What’s her name?”

Guy: “[First Name].”

(I need a last name in particular to search, and unfortunately most of the younger crowd usually never give their last name unless prompted. I have no idea why.)

Me: “What’s her last name?”

Guy: “[Last Name].”

(I go over to get it, which doesn’t take long, and return.)

Me: “And what’s her address, please?”

(He gives me this look like I’ve told him that the sky is green or that he’s standing on his head.)

Guy: “I’ve picked up before and they’ve never, ever asked me for her address before.”

(Then he clearly hasn’t picked up for her before at this pharmacy, because we always ask for the address. I say it so often that even when I’m doing things that don’t require it, I sometimes end up saying the words. Sometimes I end up asking them their address before I ask their name, before I can stop myself.)

Me: “Um… We always ask for the address.”

Guy: “No one has ever asked me before!”

Me: “Well, sometimes if you don’t know it, we’ll try another way to verify. Do you know it?”

Guy: “No!”

Me: “Okay, what’s her date of birth?”

(That, he knows. He tells that to me and I’m assured that I have the right person. A new law was passed in July that on certain types and classes of medicines, I now have to ask for a form of ID and enter it into the computer. What he’s picking up falls into that class.)

Me: “I need to see your ID, please.”

Guy: “Why?”

Me: “It’s the law as of the first of July. I have to have an ID.”

Guy: “Does that mean I have to get hers from the car?”

Me: “No, I need yours, since you’re picking it up.”

Guy: “But… does that mean I have to get hers?”

Me: “Um… No. I need yours.”

Guy: “I don’t have mine.”

Me: “Then she has to come in and pick it up.”

Guy: “Why can’t I just go get hers and give it to you?”

(Now I can understand his hesitancy. There’s a big storm that has been going on all day, but neither weather nor annoying teenagers are going to make me break the law.)

Me: “Because it’s her license. Whatever license I have has to be for the person picking up. It’s the law.”

(We go back and forth about this for another minute, to the point that my pharmacist has to come over and back me up, telling him that we have to follow all rules and regulations, and if it’s her license, it has be her. He finally goes out to get her and comes back in. I think this is a wonderful opportunity to do my job right now that she’s here.)

Me: “What’s your address?”

Girl: *throws her ID on the counter* “On file.”

Me: *blink*

(I’ve never had a customer refuse to give their address. Sometimes they’ll pretend to give me a hard time or forget some of the numbers, but I’ve never had someone give me a smart a** remark about it being “on file,” because most have the intelligence to realize that there’s a reason I’m asking for it and it’s most certainly not to hear myself talk. I want to keep my job.)

Me: “I’m sorry; we ask that for verification. If you don’t know yo—”

Girl: *interrupts snottily* “I know my address. It’s [address].”

(She picked up her license from the counter and proceeded to throw it again. I decided I’d had enough of dealing with the twat that was clearly just too lazy to come in and sent her boyfriend in for her, since I could see no legitimate reason for her not to come in besides the rain. And part of me wanted a little bit of revenge for these people half my age giving me a hard time, so I took my time, every bit of it that I could, prolonging the transaction just because they were antsy. As they left, she shot me a glare, snatched up her prescription, and then went to the industrial scale nearby that people use to measure weight and proceeded to jump up and down on it once or twice before leaving.)

Suffering Bad Pet Owners

Bad Behavior, Maryland, Pets & Animals, USA, Vet | Healthy | July 30, 2018


(I work the front desk in a highly recommended vet hospital that has both appointments with doctors and a walk-in emergency service. Emergency visits are always a trip. A young man walks in, carrying his dachshund mix. He tells me that his dog is having respiratory distress, so I take her back to see the doctor first before getting his information. It turns out that the dog has been having breathing troubles for two days. The doctor is not impressed with that info and, with client approval, takes some x-rays to see what might be going on internally. It’s cancer, a lot of cancer in all of the places. The dog is not comfortable outside of oxygen, so the vet goes to talk to the owner to explain that euthanasia is the only humane option. By this point, the owner’s father has come to join him and has brought his own dog. He is handling the dog very roughly and occasionally whacks the dog lightly with the end of the leash when he thinks the dog is misbehaving.)

Father: “Vets just want to take your money! Don’t worry, [Dog], they’re not going to see you. This is where dogs come to die.”

(He is making other clients uncomfortable, so I warn the ER doctor as she goes in to speak with them. The client is understandably shocked and upset, but the father is whole other matter.)

Father: “We’re not ready to put her down yet. Can you give us meds to keep her comfortable for another week?”

Vet: “Sir, she isn’t comfortable at all outside of oxygen. It would be against medical advice to take her out of oxygen and take her home.”

Father: “I’ll take her out of oxygen if I want to! It’s not like she’s suffering!”

(The vet was literally so angry she had to leave the room because yes, this dog was suffering! The father continued to be resistant, but the client agreed that it was in her best interest to euthanize her immediately, and handled the rest of the visit like a rational adult.)

Suffering Bad Pet Owners

Bad Behavior, Maryland, Pets & Animals, USA, Vet | Healthy | July 30, 2018


(I work the front desk in a highly recommended vet hospital that has both appointments with doctors and a walk-in emergency service. Emergency visits are always a trip. A young man walks in, carrying his dachshund mix. He tells me that his dog is having respiratory distress, so I take her back to see the doctor first before getting his information. It turns out that the dog has been having breathing troubles for two days. The doctor is not impressed with that info and, with client approval, takes some x-rays to see what might be going on internally. It’s cancer, a lot of cancer in all of the places. The dog is not comfortable outside of oxygen, so the vet goes to talk to the owner to explain that euthanasia is the only humane option. By this point, the owner’s father has come to join him and has brought his own dog. He is handling the dog very roughly and occasionally whacks the dog lightly with the end of the leash when he thinks the dog is misbehaving.)

Father: “Vets just want to take your money! Don’t worry, [Dog], they’re not going to see you. This is where dogs come to die.”

(He is making other clients uncomfortable, so I warn the ER doctor as she goes in to speak with them. The client is understandably shocked and upset, but the father is whole other matter.)

Father: “We’re not ready to put her down yet. Can you give us meds to keep her comfortable for another week?”

Vet: “Sir, she isn’t comfortable at all outside of oxygen. It would be against medical advice to take her out of oxygen and take her home.”

Father: “I’ll take her out of oxygen if I want to! It’s not like she’s suffering!”

(The vet was literally so angry she had to leave the room because yes, this dog was suffering! The father continued to be resistant, but the client agreed that it was in her best interest to euthanize her immediately, and handled the rest of the visit like a rational adult.)

After Hours Is After You

Crazy Requests, Medical Office, Patients, Texas, USA | Healthy | July 29, 2018


(I work for a company that takes hospital calls and after-hours calls for doctor’s offices. The majority of our doctors DO NOT take certain type calls after office hours, and only specific doctors can be called. Some patients refuse to acknowledge that and only make themselves look the bigger fool. It is late on a Friday.)

Me: “Hello! You’ve reached [Service]; how can I help you this evening?”

Caller: “I need [Doctor] paged.”

Me: “All right, ma’am, [Doctor] is not on call; however, the on-call doctor will be taking the page.”

Caller: “No. I don’t want the on-call doctor; I want [Doctor].”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I am unable to do that. It’s against policy to page doctors not on call.”

Caller: “I don’t care; I want [Doctor] paged now.”

Me: “All righty, ma’am, I’ll need this information.”

(I list off information needed and the caller interrupts.)

Caller: “Why do you need that information? You’re the doctor’s office; you should be able to look at the computer.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not the doctor’s office. I’m [Service]; I handle after-hours calls at a separate location.”

Caller: *huffily gives half the info needed*

Me: “I also need the reason you need to page the after-hours doctor.”

Caller: “I need my birth-control refilled. I ran out today and I need more.”

Me: *trying not to let the aggravation seep into my tone* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m unable to page the doctor for this reason. Prescription refills are to be handled by the office on Monday when they open.”

Caller: “But this is an emergency!”

Me: “I apologize, but I am unable to send that page.”

Caller: “You’re the doctor’s office! You have to send it to the doctor! What am I supposed to do until then? Not have sex?”

Me: *just over her attitude* “Ma’am, the doctor’s policy is that prescription refills are to be handled by the office on Monday.”

Caller: *rains down a multitude of expletives before threatening to get me fired and hangs up*

(She STILL calls almost every other month with the same issue. Friendly reminder: if you see you have two days for ANY prescription, please, please, please call it in before then and don’t wait until after hours to get a refill!)

Cholesterol-lol

Jerk, Medical Office, Nurses, Texas, USA | Healthy | July 28, 2018


(I am a female and a teenager. I’m temporarily on a medication that has a lot of side effects, one of the main ones being high cholesterol. I have no prior history of high cholesterol, though. I’m at the doctor’s office with my mom specifically to check that the side effects of the medication are not getting out of hand.)

Nurse: “Okay, so, looking at your results, your cholesterol is higher than it should be.” *addressing my mom* “Mom, no more serving hamburgers, and no more fast food! All that salt, red meat, and fat is really bad for teenagers, even if that’s all they want to eat.”

Mom: “Actually, we never eat fast food, and we’ve been eating pescatarian for the past few months.”

Me: “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve gone to a fast food restaurant in years.”

(The nurse looks a little flustered at this point.)

Nurse: “Well, I know how teenagers are in the summer, so try to do some walking, at least! No more laying around on the couch all day!”

Me: “I’ve actually been swimming a mile every day, and I am working as a lifeguard.”

(The nurse is starting to look annoyed, like she doesn’t believe us.)

Nurse: “Right… Well, you need to fix this, or we’re going to have to put you on medication, and you’re too young to be on cholesterol medication.”

(My mother is getting annoyed and defensive now.)

Mom: “She’s on [Medication]; that’s the whole reason we’re here! Isn’t high cholesterol one of the side effects of the medicine?”

Nurse: *glaring at my mom* “Well… Sometimes.”

Mom: “Don’t you think that might be the reason she has high cholesterol, then?”

(The nurse just walked out at that point, and we didn’t see her the rest of the visit. We mentioned it to the doctor later, but she just said, “Well, your cholesterol is kind of high.” Luckily, once I got off the medication a few months later, my cholesterol dropped back down. But seriously, at least ask questions before making patronizing assumptions about someone’s diet and exercise.)