Doctors Have Homes?!
HOSPITAL, IMPOSSIBLE DEMANDS, PATIENTS, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 20, 2019
(I am a resident on long call, staying after all of the other residents leave at 5:00 pm and admitting patients until the night team takes over. Near 8:00 pm, I get a call from the emergency department to admit a patient who was brought from her primary care provider’s office. Her condition is not that serious and she is generally pleasant, except for one thing
Patient: “[Attending Doctor] promised me that he would meet me right when I arrived!”
Me: “Oh? When did you speak with him?”
Patient: “When I was in the clinic.”
(Note that that was six or seven hours ago.)
Me: “Oh, well, the ambulance company never tells us a time of arrival, and it sounds like yours was pretty delayed. And the ED doesn’t tell every attending doctor when they admit a patient. [Attending Doctor] likely isn’t at the hospital anymore, but I’m sure he would have been here if he had known what time you were coming.”
Patient: “But he promised that he would be here waiting for me when I arrived!”
(She brought it up over and over again, making sure to interject it after each question she answered. I was a little taken aback by how fixated she was on this, especially considering how calm she was about her actual medical condition, and also by the fact that she assumed doctors don’t have lives and spend all of their copious free time at the hospital instead of with, I don’t know, their families? It turns out [Attending Doctor] was at a meeting and he drove back to the hospital to see the patient when it was done. I’m sure the patient was still upset that he did not use his psychic powers to know the exact time she arrived so he could be at the emergency department doors to greet her.)
Avoid Taking These, But When You Do… Go Crazy!
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, MEDICAL OFFICE, STUPID, SWEDEN | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 19, 2019
(I typically never get ill, but when I do catch a bad cold, I tend to get pink eye, an ear infection, and a sinus infection all at once. This happens between Christmas and New Year’s about ten years ago. I’m miserable and decide I need to see a doctor to get some antibiotics. I go to my local health center, but since it is holiday time, my normal doctor is not there. Instead, a temp doctor sees me. At the time I am very overweight.)
Doctor: “You know, you could benefit from losing a few kilos!”
(As if I didn’t know!)
Me: “Okay, but what about my cold?”
Doctor: *while listening to my lungs* “You have really light skin and a lot of birthmarks. Make sure you use sunscreen!”
Me: “Okay, but do I need antibiotics?”
Doctor: “Mmm, but we should only take antibiotics if it is absolutely unavoidable. I’ll give you a prescription, but don’t use it unless you don’t get better in a few days!”
Me: “Fair enough!”
Doctor: *looking through his big book of drugs* “So, how many pills do you need?”
(Yeah, he is serious. He asks me what the dosage is. Then, he calculates from my weight that I should have 21 pills per day! When I protest, he becomes irritated and snarky and gives me the largest dosage in the book.)
Doctor: “Are you happy now? “
(Eh, yeah. Sure! I just left as soon as I could. A few days later, I needed those pills, as I wasn’t getting better. When I spoke to the pharmacy, they were horrified to hear about the 21-pill dosage. They said that they would never, EVER have given me that much. Later, I returned to my regular doctor for a follow-up, and he was just as horrified. He also told me that the dosage I did get was what they give to bad cases of pneumonia. So, yeah, I was cured, but my doctor said that they would never use that doctor again.)
In A Spot Of Bother
BAD BEHAVIOR, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, MEDICAL OFFICE, OKLAHOMA, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 19, 2019
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.
(For a month or so, I’ve had a very small lump right at the base of my hairline on my neck. I don’t worry too much about it, as it doesn’t seem to be growing and isn’t painful at all, until one day it very suddenly floods with blood, like a blood blister. I have a very strong family history of melanoma, so anything on my skin that changes color rapidly is cause for alarm, so the next morning I go to the emergency clinic for an opinion as they are the ones that will see me the soonest.)
Me: *tipping my head to show him the lump* “It was the same color as my skin before last night when it turned red like that.”
Doctor #1 : “Hmm… Well, it sort of just looks like you may have broken a capillary, but because of that, it’s a bit hard to see what might be under it… Oh, and what’s all that?”
(He points to my shoulder, which is healing up after a nasty acne breakout)
Me: “Oh, I went and visited my home state a week ago; I always break out something awful while I’m there, and it’s just healing up. And besides, the lump was there before then.”
Doctor #1 : “Hmm… Well, I think we should still get you on something for that. That lump could still be acne-related.”
(This seems reasonable enough, so he prescribes me an oral medication for acne and a cream for topical use. He tells me to use both for three days and then come back to check the progress. I do so, and when I return we have the following conversation)
Doctor #1 : “Oh, your shoulder looks much better!”
Me: “Er… Yeah, well, it’s had a few more days to heal.”
Doctor #1 : “So, we should definitely keep you on the acne medication.”
Me: *pause* “Sure.” *with no intention of actually keeping up the entirely pointless medication* “But that lump hasn’t reacted at all.”
(He checks to see that I’m correct)
Doctor #1 : “Huh! Well, then, do you want it off?”
Me: “Well… I mean, I don’t know what it is.”
Doctor: “Oh, well, that’s called a nevi. It’s just a harmless skin growth for the most part, but given your family history of skin cancer, I very strongly suggest you get it removed.”
(He does the procedure right then — which is not fun, by the way — burning off the “nevi” with an electrical current. I’m honestly a bit hesitant, but I don’t want to be that patient that insists I know more than a medical professional. After he’s done, he starts poking me in the shoulder.)
Doctor #1 : “Oh, what’s this here? You should really get this looked at, too.”
(I think about the spot he’s poking. It’s what I know for a fact is a completely benign mole. It’s perfectly healthy and I’ve had it for ages, and I’m beginning to suspect that this doctor is just of the opinion that I shouldn’t have any sort of blemish anywhere on me.)
Me: “Er… Thanks, but I think we’ll leave that one alone.”
Doctor #1 : “Are you sure? I really think you should have it looked at.”
Me: *now feeling even more uneasy about the whole thing* “I’ll keep that in mind, but I think we’re done for today.”
(I go home and let the burn start to heal, but I also look up the word, “nevi.” It means, “mole.” I cannot express how much my complaint was NOT a mole. I kick myself for letting this guy burn whatever it was off, but it quickly becomes apparent that what he ACTUALLY did was burn off the layer of skin covering whatever was causing my complaint. There’s still a bump there, and now it’s much more obvious as it’s turned into a bright red nodule. I do the thing you’re not supposed to do and start Googling, as I figure I can’t cause more harm by looking things up. The theory I land on is that the bump is actually an inflamed lymph node — which I did not previously know could be that near the surface — reacting to some previously unnoticed infection. This is further backed up when, after about another week, I start noticing some more lumps further under the skin, as well as developing a headache localized to that side of my head. Finally, I make an actual appointment at my regular doctor’s office and explain the whole story to him. He actually stares at me for a moment after I tell the story.)
(He comes to the exact same conclusion I did, and further traces the issue to a tooth I was preparing to have a crown put on. I hadn’t connected the two because, while the tooth definitely needs work, it wasn’t really painful so I wouldn’t have thought it was infected)
Doctor #2 : “Okay, so… we’re not going to be, you know, giving you any freaking creams for this because, you know, they’re your lymph nodes… I just… God!”
Me: “Yeah, I figured not. Antibiotics, then?”
Doctor #2 : “Yes. And we’ll do some blood work too… I just…. He tried to burn off your lymph node!”
(I left feeling rather vindicated, and as of writing this up, my lymph nodes have finally started settling down, and my headache is gone. Would have been nice not to have a chunk of my neck burnt off first, though.)
Sick Of Puns
HOSPITAL, INDIANA, NURSES, PUNNY, SCHOOL, SILLY, TEACHERS, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 18, 2019
(This happens to my dad when he is going back to nursing school in his sixties — a story in itself! One time a senior nursing instructor visits the class to give a “very important” presentation. This happens in the late 2000s, and both bird flu and swine flu are of major concern at the time as potential pandemics.)
Senior Instructor: *solemnly, and with a completely straight face* “I need to teach you how to recognize the difference between swine flu and bird flu. If it’s bird flu, you need a tweetment. If it’s swine flu, you need an oinkment!”
(The entire class just about busted a gut laughing. My dad said in his entire time in nursing school, this particular instructor was always taciturn and businesslike and NEVER showed this sort of levity, except on this one remarkable occasion.)
So Many Optometrists But They Can’t See What’s Happening
BAD BEHAVIOR, MAINE, MEDICAL OFFICE, RECEPTION, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 17, 2019
(My family and I have been going to the same optometrist, a family friend who grew up with my father, for as long as I can remember. He finally retires after around 50 years and sells his business to a local chain optometry company. I get one final exam in with my regular optometrist, about five months before he retires, and I run out of contact lenses around two months after he retires. I call up his old office, now owned and operated by the chain and of whom I am now a patient, to order more.)
Me: “Hi. This is [My Name]; I was a patient of [Optometrist]. I’d like to order more contacts.”
Receptionist: “Of course. But before we can order more contacts for you, we’ll need you to come in for an exam.”
Me: “Uh… I’m sorry, why?”
Receptionist: “Your prescription is out of date.”
Me: “I just had my last exam seven or eight months ago. Why do I need another one?”
Receptionist: “Because you are a new patient; the optometrist has to see you before he can order your contacts.”
Me: “Okay… How much is an exam?”
Receptionist: “It will be [amount].”
(My old optometrist charged a little more than half the price that was quoted to me. My vision insurance only covers one exam every twelve months, regardless of who gives the exam, and at the price they quoted me I cannot afford a second exam in less than a year. I explain as much to the receptionist.)
Me: “There’s really no way for the optometrist to order me enough contacts to get me through the last four months before my insurance covers another exam?”
Receptionist: “Let me speak with the optometrist; we might be able to work something out. I’ll have to put you on hold.”
Me: “That’s fine.”
(I am on hold for about 20 minutes, and finally, the line cuts to ringing. A completely different person answers.)
Receptionist #2 : “Thank you for calling [Chain Optometrist].”
Me: “Oh… I was on hold, waiting for a different receptionist to ask the optometrist a question.”
Receptionist #2 : “Oh! What was the question, do you know? I might be able to answer it.”
Me: “Whether the optometrist could order me more contacts before I have another exam. I just had one about eight months ago.”
Receptionist #2 : “That shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t know why the other receptionist needed to ask the optometrist that. May I have your name, please?”
Receptionist #2 : “I don’t have you in my system.”
Me: “That is weird; I thought all my information transferred over fine.”
Receptionist #2 : “Transferred? Which doctor did you see?”
Me: “[Optometrist].”
Receptionist #2 : “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with that doctor.”
Me: “But you guys just bought his company?”
Receptionist #2 : “Oh… Oh! Oh, you mean in [Town]?”
Me: “Yeah, that’s the one.”
Receptionist #2 : “You called the [City] location; we can’t order you contacts, but the [Town] location where you’re registered as a patient can.”
([City] is a large city about 60 miles away; [Town] is a small town that is about a five-minute drive from my apartment.)
Me: “That’s what I did; I called [Town], then I was put on hold when I asked to order contacts..”
Receptionist #2 : “Ah, I understand. Our home office is in [City], so all hold calls eventually transfer back to us after a certain amount of time.”
Me: “That’s… strange. Could you please transfer me back?”
Receptionist #2 : “Of course. Hold on just a minute, please.”
(I am placed on hold again, again for around twenty minutes. Finally, a third receptionist picks up.)
Receptionist #3 : “Thank you for calling [Chain Optometrist].”
Me: “Hi. this is [My Name]. I was a patient of [Optometrist]. I called earlier to order more contacts.”
Receptionist #3 : “Of course. Let me look up your prescription. Oh… You haven’t seen the optometrist yet.”
Me: *sighs* “No, but I just saw my old optometrist about eight months ago.”
Receptionist #3 : “Well, we can’t order you more contacts until you see the optometrist.”
Me: “Yes, I was told this by the first person I spoke to. She put me on hold to ask the optometrist.”
Receptionist #3 : *snorts* “Don’t know why she would do that. She should know we won’t give you any without an exam by our doctor.”
(I have worked customer service for almost ten years, and as such, I don’t want to cause a scene but I am frustrated and this particular receptionist, being so curt with me after the other two were trying to be helpful, irritates me. At this point, including the hold time, I have been on the phone for almost an hour now for what should have been a three-minute call.)
Me: *forcing my voice to be as even as I can* “I’m sorry, let me stop you there. I apologize if I come off as frustrated, but it’s because I am. I have been transferred three times and been on the phone for nearly an hour, and you are the third person I have spoken to. I literally need maybe one full box of contact lenses to get me through four months, as my insurance won’t cover another exam so soon and I can’t afford your exam rate without insurance. Is there really no way for me to get just one box of contacts without seeing your optometrist?”
(There is silence on the line, and I think at first that she hung up. Then, she speaks, very icily and sharply.)
Receptionist #3 : “That is how we do things here. You know, there are four other optometrists within ten miles of us.”
Me: “I see. I’ll take my prescription information now, thank you. I’ll order my contacts from [Mail Order Contacts Service].”
(The receptionist proceeded to read off my prescription to me rapidly and, again, rather sharply. I managed to write it down, and as soon as she finished speaking she hung up on me. I got some recommendations from family and friends, and four months later I very happily saw a different optometrist, whose employees were sympathetic but not surprised when I told them about my experience with the chain. They told me they already had sixteen former patients of [Optometrist] switch over to them after the chain took over! Not a good look for the chain.)
Their Real Selves Bear Teeth
DENTIST, ENGLAND, JERK, LIARS/SCAMMERS, UK | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 15, 2019
(I’m at the dentist, and he suggests I go to the hygienist for a clean, etc. I say okay, though I’m not convinced I need it. I’ve not been to the dentist for a couple of years, but my teeth are in great shape, as I look after them well. The following conversation proves me right, and I have not been back since.)
Hygienist: “You know, your teeth are quite incredibly clean considering it’s been six months since we last saw you.”
Me: “Actually, it’s been two years since you last saw me.”
Hygienist: “Well, you really should have come in before now, then! Your teeth need a clean!”
Stuck In A Bloody Cycle
CAR, HEALTH & BODY, ISRAEL, NON-DIALOGUE, POLICE, POLICE STATION | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 13, 2019
About twelve years ago I was riding my motorcycle when I got hit by a driver that didn’t look to see whether the road was clear while exiting her driveway. The impact and subsequent fall wrecked the bike pretty badly; the lights and the mirrors were shattered, the rear brake drum had cracked, the clutch got stuck on partially-disengaged, and the transmission got stuck on third. I was okay, aside from a nasty cut on my chin that got the front of my jacket covered in blood.
After checking myself for bodily injuries and concluding that I had sustained none aside from that cut, I exchanged the mandatory details with the woman that hit me, and told her I wanted to contact the police to have an accident report filled. The woman exclaimed that “she had no time for this,” and promptly drove off, leaving her front bumper, which had torn off in the collision, behind. I then found out that I had no battery remaining on my phone.
I just went to the police station to get that report, on that very bike which was somehow still driveable with all that damage. The officer I spoke to was horrified by the way I looked with all that blood, told me that the report could wait, and urged me to go to the ER to get myself examined. When he asked me whether I could get to the hospital myself, I absent-mindedly just nodded and pointed at the helmet I had in my hand. That seemed to satisfy him and I went on my way.
In retrospect, I don’t know what was worse: the fact that I rode a motorcycle in a condition that made it nowhere near legal to be ridden right up to the police station’s front door, or that the officer, who must have assumed that I was involved in a serious crash, was perfectly fine with me riding the motorcycle involved in that very same crash to the hospital.
The Only Time It’s Acceptable To Ask
HOSPITAL, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, MARYLAND, PATIENTS, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 11, 2019
(My daughter has had an accident at daycare where she smacked her nose pretty hard into the side of a table, so I’ve taken her to the urgent care clinic across the street. Due to the location of the injury, my husband and I have agreed to have them do an x-ray, just in case. Unfortunately, my husband has to return to work, so it’s just me with my daughter. It is important to note that I am also five-months pregnant, and it’s starting to be very obvious.)
X-Ray Tech: “Hi, Mom! We’re all ready to take [Daughter] for her x-ray.”
Me: “Great! Come on, [Daughter]. We’re going to go take a picture of the inside of your head!”
(The tech takes a better look at me, looks down at my rounded belly, looks back up at me, and puts on an impressively good poker face.)
X-Ray Tech: “I’m sorry, but um… I have to ask; is there any chance you might be pregnant?”
Me: “Yes, five months!” *smiles at her for a few seconds, and then the penny drops* “Ohhh, right.”
X-Ray Tech: “I’ll just get one of the nurses to go in with [Daughter].”
The Mummy Of All Bad Jokes
MEDICAL OFFICE, PATIENTS, PUNNY, SEATTLE, SILLY, USA, WASHINGTON | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 11, 2019
(I am answering the phone at an OB-GYN office when a woman calls to make an appointment.)
Me: “[Office], how can I help you?”
Woman: *sounding a little nervous but also very excited* “Ah, well, I need an appointment. It’s the strangest thing; I went sightseeing a few months ago, to see the pyramids. I thought I got food poisoning or indigestion from eating things I wasn’t used to. But it’s lasted for a few months, and this morning I glanced in the mirror and thought I looked a little heavier.”
(I can see where this might be heading, and am almost giddy because I can’t believe the fantastic joke opportunity I’m about to have.)
Woman: *continuing* “—so I took a pregnancy test. I think I’m three months pregnant!”
Me: *cheering internally* “Well, ma’am, it sounds like you did get sick on your trip.”
Woman: “Oh?”
Me: *holding back laughter* “You caught the Egyptian flu. You’re going to be a mummy!”
Woman: *laughs*
Me: “And congratulations. Let’s figure out your due date and get in your with one of our doctors.”
Time Heals All Errors
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, HOSPITAL, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, UK, WALES | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 10, 2019
(My father comes off his motorcycle when going round a bend and dislocates his shoulder. This the third time he has dislocated it. This, combined with the fact that he is 65 years old, means the doctors want to keep a close eye on how it is healing. My dad goes to the hospital for a check-up a month or two after the accident.)
Doctor: *looking at scans on the computer* “This doesn’t seem to have healed at all. I think you may need surgery to get this sorted.”
Father: “Are you sure? It feels a lot better.”
Doctor: “Based on what I see, yes. Stay here; I just need to speak someone about getting you scheduled in for the operation.”
(The doctor leaves the office. My father looks at the scans still on the screen and notices something important: the date of the scan is from just after the accident! No wonder it doesn’t appear to be healing. The doctor comes back into the office.)
Doctor: “So, we can get you in—“
Father: “Can I just stop you there? Could you check the date on that scan?”
Doctor: “What?” *checks date and twigs* “Ah. So sorry about that.” *brings up the most recent scan* “That’s much better; the healing seems to on track. We’ll make a follow-up appointment so we can check it again soon.”
Pray They Won’t Be Back(bone)
AUSTRALIA, HOSPITAL, PATIENTS, STUPID | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 8, 2019
(Making bookings for patients is very easy. All I need is the patient’s name, phone, modality, body part, and doctor’s name. I’ve been on the phone for a few minutes. The patient is giving me a rather detailed explanation of why she needs a scan of her back, yet not telling me anything I need to know. I’m polite and don’t interrupt, but I am spending too much time on this call and my coworker needs help with patients lined up.)
Me: “Okay. That doesn’t sound good. Did your doctor want an x-ray, ultrasound, or CT?”
Patient: “Scan of my back. My back.”
Me: “On the form your doctor gave you, did they write XR, CT, or US anywhere?”
Patient: “My doctor’s name is [Doctor].”
Me: “Lovely.” *first piece of information off my checklist, but not what I asked for* “Did they check any boxes? Can you see, ‘spine,’ etc., anywhere?”
Patient: “Yes. It’s so sore. So sore.”
Me: “The paper the doctor gave you. Can you read it to me?”
Patient: “I have a paper. It says nothing.”
Me: *still very polite* “It doesn’t have your name on it? Not the doctor’s name and signature?”
Patient: “Yes, my name is [Patient]!”
(I can’t take it down until I know what they need and what room to start in, so I make a mental note for later.)
Me: “Okay. Now, the paper has nothing on it?”
(I know it’s repetitive, but I have to confirm for what I have to say next if it’s true.)
Patient: “Nothing. There’s nothing!”
Me: “Okay. So, that means its invalid. You’d need to go to the doctor and get him to write you a referral.”
The Tiger Comment Was A Bit Of A Stretch
JERK, MEDICAL OFFICE, NURSES, USA, VIRGINIA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 7, 2019
(When I am pregnant with our first child, my husband and I go to a birthing center for all my prenatal care and then for the birth. This birthing center has two midwives. One is a complete angel, but the other is quite difficult to deal with. Partway through the pregnancy, I notice I have gotten a lot of stretch marks on my stomach and am worried that it looks pretty bad. But since my husband hasn’t commented on or acknowledged them at all, I decide they must not be as noticeable as I thought. Then comes another appointment with the difficult midwife. When she sees my stretch marks, she exclaims
Midwife: “You look like you got attacked by a tiger! You really need to start working to prevent getting more.”
(She then proceeds to tell me methods to prevent getting more and warning me that they never go away, while I lay there feeling insecure and embarrassed. I look over at my husband to find him looking angry. When he and I get out to the car after the appointment, before we drive off, I turn to him and ask hesitantly and nervously
Me: “So… are they really that bad? Like I was attacked by a tiger?”
Husband: *frustrated sigh* “I could shoot that woman.”
Me: “…”
Husband: “I knew as soon as she started talking it would make you feel bad. I so wanted to knock her out or something.”
Me: “You’d never seemed to notice them, so I thought they weren’t that bad.”
Husband: “Of course I noticed them, but I didn’t care! They don’t matter. And I didn’t say anything because I knew it would make you feel bad! I think you are beautiful! The stretch marks really aren’t a big deal.”
Me: “Oh. Thank you.”
(This attitude is only one of the reasons I’m glad to be married to him.)
Sent A Stinging Note
ARKANSAS, COWORKERS, ELEMENTARY/PRIMARY SCHOOL, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, NON-DIALOGUE, PETS & ANIMALS, TEACHERS, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 6, 2019
My grandmother was a teacher at one of the nearby elementary schools, and at the time she was teaching in this old, wooden building which was located where the playground is now. One day, as she was teaching, a wasp flew in. My grandmother was deathly allergic to wasp stings, so she freaked out, screaming and diving under her desk to avoid it. She ended up writing a note and sent it with a student to the janitor.
The note read, “There’s a wasp in here, and I’m allergic. Come get it!”
The student came back with a reply on the other side of the paper that read, “I know how you feel.”
Narcotics By Night
IMPOSSIBLE DEMANDS, INDIANA, JERK, PATIENTS, PHARMACY, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 4, 2019
(The pharmacy where I work is the only 24-hour one in town. We keep all our narcotics in a time-delayed safe that we don’t open at night. The only exception is a few we keep out for hospital patients. One night after 11:00 pm, a lady comes through the drive-thru to drop off a script for one of these medications.)
Me: “We have this in stock and we can have it ready for you around 7:00 am.”
Lady: “I can’t get it now? I’ve been out all day! Can’t you just give me a couple to get me by?”
(I’m thinking, “If you’ve been out all day, why wait until this late at night to get more?”)
Me: “This is in a time-delayed safe, so we can’t fill these at night.”
Lady: “Well, what’s the point in being a full-service, 24-hour pharmacy if you can’t fill prescriptions at night?”
Me: “We can fill most prescriptions at night, but this is in our time-delayed safe which can’t be opened after eight.”
Lady: “I don’t care about anyone else’s prescriptions. This is for me!”
Medicaid: Come Back When There’s More Than One Stomach Hole
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, HOSPITAL, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 3, 2019
(I have been extremely sick with stomach issues for quite a long time, but have had zero luck finding a doctor who will take on a Medicaid patient. One day, the pain after trying to eat something becomes so severe that I ask my grandma to take me to the ER. We go to the main hospital downtown and wait. My mom eventually gets off work and comes to take grandma’s place waiting with me. Finally, after over eight hours, I’m called back. We sit with the doctor and talk about my symptoms: non-stop nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, lack of appetite, exhaustion, unable to keep anything solid down, and so on, getting progressively worse over the course of more than a year. I’ve survived on an increasingly all-liquid diet all that time, so it’s clear something’s wrong.)
Doctor: “Well, you’re young, so I’m not too worried about it. I know you’re in school right now. Remember, your state of mind can really affect your body. Have you been depressed at all?”
(Yep, no tests or anything other than checking my blood sugar and doing a pregnancy and drug screening. I am discharged with basically the advice to try to relax and find a GP to discuss things with. Exactly one week later, I’m at home, and this time start vomiting blood pretty much nonstop rather than the usual intermittent basis. I call the nursing helpline for my Medicaid provider.)
Nurse: “You’re bleeding internally. You need to get to an ER immediately. Do you have someone who can drive you, or should I line up a ride for you?”
Me: “Well, I was literally just in the ER last week.”
Nurse: “Miss, you really need to go back. Is there someone who can take you?”
Me: “Yeah, I know my mom will take me if I tell her. Thank you.”
(Sure enough, my mom came to get me, and we headed for the one hospital in town not part of the network that ran the other one, as it was the local Catholic hospital. I was checked in and taken back within a few minutes, the doctor really listened, and they did tests, giving me meds to help with the nausea in the meantime. Turns out, my H. pylori numbers were practically astronomical, and the ultrasound revealed visible swelling where an ulcer was on the brink of eating through my stomach, in addition to the anemia and high white cell count. I effectively got there pretty much just in time. So, yeah, that’s my story of how most of the medical system wanted to effectively leave me to die just because I couldn’t make enough between my four jobs while going to school, and the one hospital that saved my life. Thanks to a scheduler in the local medical system, I have since found a GP and a GI specialist who are working on the underlying autoimmune issue we’ve since found, as well as getting the stomach issues under control that I was left with due to long-term lack of treatment.)
Your Throat Is Fine But Your Brain Is Missing
IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, MEDICAL OFFICE, PATIENTS, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 2, 2019
(The office I work in is in a larger building with other medical offices in it. I’m walking in to work one day and see an older lady standing in the intersection of two hallways looking lost. I’m not wearing scrubs or a uniform of any kind, but I must look like I know where I am going because she stops me with this
Old Lady: “Where do I go?”
Me: “Which office are you looking for?”
Old Lady: “I don’t know; where do I go?”
Me: “Are you seeing a doctor or having a procedure done?”
Old Lady: *motions to her throat* “They’re scanning this.”
Me: *thinking this narrows down the possibilities to two offices* “Do you know what kind of scan, or the name of the office you need to be at?”
Old Lady: “They just told me to come in door B.” *our building entrances are marked with letters* “Where do I go?”
Me: “Well, I work at [Radiology Clinic], so follow me and we’ll see if your appointment is with us.”
Old Lady: “But where do I go?”
(Her appointment was with us, but for the next day. We were able to squeeze her in. It happens way too often that patients come for scans but have no idea what it’s for or which doctor sent them. I would be able to understand getting lost if the offices in our building weren’t so clearly marked and there weren’t maps at every entrance.)
School Is Not Much Of An Improvement Over Hospital
BIZARRE, CANADA, HOSPITAL, PATIENTS | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 1, 2019
(I’m a nurse in a smallish community hospital. A number of our patients are awaiting placement in long-term care and aren’t acutely ill. However, because they’re living in a germy hospital, they’re inclined to pick up bugs, and older folks with cognitive decline can get intensely confused with any sort of infection. One morning, one of our longtime patients, an older, bedridden lady, starts telling us all that she’s on a couch in a schoolhouse in a completely different small town and she needs to get back to the hospital. She laughs at us when we try to explain that she’s already in the hospital, and has a shouting match with her husband when he comes in and tries, as well. Later in the day, I’m doing some charting at the nursing station and answer a phone call
Me: “[Floor], [My Name] speaking.”
Patient: “Oh, hi. I’m just calling to let you know that I’m not there today; I’m at the school in [Town].”
Me: “[Patient], you are here today. I saw you this morning. I helped with your bath.”
Patient: “No, I’m not. I’m in [town], but I thought I should call in case [Husband] is looking for me.”
Me: “[Patient], your husband was in this morning. To the hospital. Where you are. In room [number]. Look. I’ll walk down the hall to your room.”
Patient: *laughs* “Okay, you do that; I won’t be there, though.”
(I walk down the hall, while talking to the patient on the cordless extension, and into her room. She sees me and continues talking over the phone to me.)
Patient: “Oh, a girl’s here now!”
Me: *hangs up* “[Patient], that’s me; you were just talking to me.”
Patient: *keeps talking into the phone* “See, I’m in [Town] and I need to get back to the hospital!”
(I gave up; she would not be reoriented. Later, I answered a call from our switchboard, who patched through 911. The patient had called them to ask to be returned to the hospital. I had to go back to her room to talk to the 911 dispatch on her phone and cancel the request. Then I disconnected her phone. This patient is recovered and quite lucid once more.)
Must Not Be The Only One With A Damaged Head
ENGLAND, HOSPITAL, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, LONDON, NON-DIALOGUE, STUPID, UK | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 1, 2019
I go to see my dad one day while my mum is away on a trip, to keep him company and to help him get some stuff done. One of the things he wants to do is add new waterproofing strips to the top of his workshop. We set up the ladder and I go up while he cuts some blocks. Rather foolishly, we didn’t do anything resembling good practice while setting up the ladder, a fact that comes back to bite me when I try to climb down it and it slips out from under me. I fall and luckily I land feet-first, but then I tip forward, and this time I land head-first on the patio.
I scream and my dad rushes out. A quick damage assessment has a lot of blood streaming from my head and a small puddle of it on the floor. I should note at this point that my dad and I are absolutely terrible for seeking medical attention. The last time my dad was in hospital he had managed to nearly slice his thumb off, and I, likewise, had not gone to hospital since I was eight. But given the amount of blood, we decide a trip to the hospital might be a good idea.
Since we are close to the hospital, we decide it would be faster and easier to just drive me in. With a towel soaking the blood up, we drive to the hospital and I walk in. It’s worth noting that despite the fact I’m walking, my t-shirt is covered in blood. The towel at my head it quite wet with it, too; anyone with some sense should probably figure I’m an urgent case. The staff who assign severity of cases, however, take a different view on things. First, I have to sit for five minutes, and then I meet with someone to fill out my details before being sent down a hallway to another waiting room. After around five minutes here, the blood loss and shock is getting to me and I literally pass out onto the floor.
According to my dad, I am suddenly swarmed with nurses and doctors, my blood pressure and vitals are taken, and I am shoved onto a bed with a compress applied to my head. At first, however, there is some confusion as to who I am. It turns out the admitting nurse decided my case wasn’t that serious, “because he was walking,” and had listed me as discharged.
I am given a head CT and kept in for six hours of observation, diagnosed with a mild concussion and a large cut to the side of my head, which fortunately closes without the need for stitches. My dad thinks it is hilarious later when a sign on our way out reads, “Would you recommend [Hospital] to a friend?” With the way they handled my case…
Time To Tell Them The Hard, Black Truth
HOME, MADISON, PATIENTS, ROOMMATES, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | JANUARY 31, 2019
(My flatmate has been seeing a doctor for heart palpitations and has had to do a number of things to troubleshoot it, including wearing a portable heart monitor. One evening we are hanging out in the kitchen.)
Me: “Didn’t the cardiologist say you have to cut down on caffeine?”
Flatmate: “Yeah, so I stopped drinking coffee.”
Me: “How many cups of black tea have you had today already, though?”
She Has To Live Somewhere Else, But At Least She Will Be Living
ADELAIDE, AUSTRALIA, BAD BEHAVIOR, MEDICAL OFFICE, PARENTS/GUARDIANS, SOUTH AUSTRALIA | HEALTHY RELATED | JANUARY 30, 2019
(I’m sitting in a doctor’s office waiting room with my five-year-old son for a routine checkup. In Australia, legally, you do not have to have your parents’ consent for doctor visits once you turn 16, at which point you can apply for your own medicare card, as well. A young girl around 16 or 17 marches through the door and walks up to the receptionist, followed by an older woman who turns out to be her mother. Her mother is WAILING at the top of her lungs, begging her daughter to stop, asking how she could do this to her, etc., in amongst just screaming randomly. Every kid in the practice bolts to their parents and the adults are left to just watch it all unfold.)
Teenage Girl: “Hello. I’m [Teenage Girl] and I’m seventeen and here for my own appointment.”
(Her mother increases her screeching, now sitting firmly in harpy territory.)
Mum: “I AM HER MOTHER AND I DO NOT CONSENT TO THIS.”
(The receptionist, to her credit, simply checks the young girl in, and she goes to sit down and wait. Her mother, still crying and shrieking, follows her and sits between her and another mum with a toddler who looks horrified.)
Mum: *through hiccups and tears* “Make sure you raise him right, but even if you raise him right, he’ll let some big corporation turn him against youuuu!”
(The other mum gets called in for her appointment and makes a hasty getaway, leaving us to listen to the crazy banshee beg and plead and scream at her daughter not to do this. Honestly, at this point, I think the only thing that could cause this reaction would be an abortion, but ohhh, I was wrong. A very perplexed doctor calls the young girl’s name out, and she bolts into the room. Her mother tries to follow but is stopped by the doctor.)
Doctor: “Do you want your mother with you?”
Teenage Girl: “No.”
(This apparently kicks the crazy into overdrive. The mother starts yelling angrily now.)
Mum: “Well, after you get that poison injected into you, you are not coming home and shedding it all over your sisters! You can find somewhere else to live!”
(The mum made an exit and we all realised she was talking about VACCINES. When her daughter emerged from the room she apologised to all of us, and it looked like she’d been crying. A few people offered her tissues and told her she was a brave kid for standing her ground. She had a quiet talk with the receptionist, who called someone, and when I was leaving the receptionist said she’d called the girl’s father for her. Wherever you are, brave girl, I hope you had somewhere to live, and good on you for making the smart choice!)
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