During my freshman year in high school, my science teacher assigned us to interview people in the community about how they use science in their careers. Although I don’t remember most of the people I spoke with, I can tell you that I spent meaningful time with a local community pharmacist who changed my life.
What I saw was a man who loved his career and truly cared for his patients. In an instant, I knew that I wanted to become a pharmacist, and I never wavered from that goal throughout high school.
Knowing what you want to be when you grow up at age 14 is unusual, but it is very liberating. I simply had to work backwards to figure out how to achieve my goal of becoming a pharmacist.
After high school, I chose to attend Ohio Northern University (ONU) because it had a unique pharmacy program. Rather than attending college for 2 years and then applying to the pharmacy program, ONU students were admitted to the College of Pharmacy from day one.
Although it was expensive, being in pharmacy school from day one and avoiding the risk of rejection made it worthwhile for me.
In college, I spent a lot of time in the library. Although the classwork was difficult, I did well with one exception: organic chemistry.
I did fail organic chemistry—a notorious “weed out” course—but I successfully retook the class over the summer and graduated on time with the rest of my classmates. Failing a course is a difficult stumbling block, but I stood strong and persevered.
Today, I’m thankful for the wonderful pharmacy profession for so many reasons.
First, I’m thankful that community pharmacists are the health care professionals most accessible to the public. If my local pharmacist wasn’t accessible to me, then I likely would have taken a different career path.
Second, I’m proud of the work we pharmacists do, the diversity of our career options, and the relationships we share with our patients and fellow health care providers.
Pharmacy is a profession that makes a real difference in people’s lives. It certainly has made all the difference in mine.
While doing our weekly grocery shopping it begins to storm outside, the kind of thunderstorm that will soak you to the bone in a matter of seconds. Once my wife, my 2 children, and I are done checking out we stop at the front door to decide if we want to wait for the rain to stop. After checking the weather we decide that it is going to last a while, so I just decide to suck it up and go out to get the car, leaving my wife and kids to wait for me to pull up. I of course get soaked to the bone on my way out. Once I get to the entrance I start loading my kids in the car when the store manager approaches us. I assume she is going to tell me I can’t park there, but instead she proceeds to help me load my groceries into the trunk, along with about 4 other employees all of them getting soaked as well. I have never had that kind of service before and it’s nice to know that there are still people out there willing to help their customers even if it doesn’t help their bottom line.
In 1936 my great-grandfather left the Royal Navy with the rank of Chief Petty Officer after 22 years service. He then joined the Admiralty as a Naval Paymaster. During the war he was posted to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). Much to his chagrin, the authorities insisted that he be given a formal rank and appointed him Lieutenant-Commander. Although he had a uniform, he swore that he would never wear it.
One day a U.S. Sub-Lieutenant needed some information from him and demanded that he presented it to him on board his vessel the following morning. My great-grandfather went home and asked his wife to lay out his dress uniform.
“But Robert, you said you would never wear it.”
“Olive, tomorrow I am making an exception.”
The following morning he arrived at the U.S. vessel, in uniform, and was piped aboard. The vessel`s captain, being massively out-ranked by a Naval Lieutenant-Commander, asked very respectfully what he wanted. My great-grandfather said that Mr ***** had demanded that he bring this information to him and therefore he was doing so.
One hopes that the U.S. Sub-Lieutenant was never again quite so high-handed with a `civilian` worker and also that he recovered from the chewing-out that he will have received from his captain.
It’s happy hour at the bar I work at, we’re serving a regular we know well for being confrontational normally, and even worse when he gets drunk, but he never actually goes so far as to swing or do anything to incite something past words so we haven’t seen fit to kick him out, we also get people from a nearby military base pretty often, so you’d have to be an idiot to seriously pick a fight. I’m working the bar and see the regular is nearing his point and has gone to pick on someone who, to my horror, is an obvious amputee I haven’t seen before.
Regular: “Come on stumpy, come at me, I’ll even give you the first swing! Or are you gonna show me you’re half the man you used to be!”
The new guy grunts. Obviously annoyed but not wanting trouble he continues to ignore him, then the regular throws his drink in his face.
Regular: “Hey, what’s that on your finger, a wedding band? You even got the d*** to please her anymore? Tell ya what, you give me your address and I’ll go-”
Before anyone can react, the regular is on the floor bleeding from his mouth unconscious, the new guy wipes off his knuckles, sits down like nothing ever happened and goes back to his drink. At this point the soldiers in the bar are going OORAH, when one of them turns to me.
Other regular: “Guy over there is the toughest damn soldier I’ve met, lost his arm to a bomb and still managed to kill the guys that attacked his squad before getting rescued.”
I see the new guy pull out a piece of paper, write something on it, and slip it into the regular’s pocket. When the regular came to it was in the back of an ambulance. The regular was banned for attacking both a veteran and a disabled person as well as jailed for assault. And as for what was written on the note? According to the Vet it was; “What does it say about you that I could still kick your ass with one arm and one punch?”
(This is a small, locally owned coffee shop. A customer comes in with a couple of very energetic children who are excitedly jabbering back and forth to each other in a normal inside voice. The customer, their father and a regular, orders his drinks, pays and goes to wait with them, joining in their silly word game. A minute later another customer comes up to the bar to get their drink.)
Customer: “You need to kick those noisy brats out of here.”
Me: “I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t kick them out for talking. They’re really not being that loud.”
Customer: “And their father, encouraging his kids to talk in public. Disgraceful. You should ban him for that.”
Me: “Ma’am we don’t ban people for entertaining their kids and we don’t kick kids out for talking in a normal tone of voice.”
Customer: (Yelling at me) “Listen you little b****, I’m the owner’s wife and I’m telling you to ban them right f******* now!”
Me: “I can’t…”
Customer: “Don’t you dare open your f****** mouth to argue with me you b***! I’ll have your a** fired.”
(I flinch at the tirade and find myself unable to respond. At this point the father comes up behind her.)
Father: “[My name], get yourself a drink on me and go on break. I’ll handle this. If your boss says anything just say I’ll explain.”
(He turns to the customer as I nod dumbly and turn to make myself a drink.)
Father: “First of all, you don’t treat other human beings like that. If you had any decency I wouldn’t have to tell you that. Second, my kids are being much better behaved than you are. Third, you weren’t even at the owner’s wedding. I was.”
Customer: (Smugly as if calling a bluff) “If you were at the wedding where were you sitting?”
Father: “I was standing right next to her.”
(The customer keeps smiling smugly for a few seconds before realization hits her like a sledgehammer. Her smile falters then she pales visibly and runs from the store. The owner’s husband covered for me for about 10 minutes while I took a break. When I came back there was a $50 bill in the tip jar. He’d never admit to it, but I suspect he put it in there.)
(I work at a grill. We don’t really have a vegetarian menu so this customer ordered a grilled cheese. A minute after I bring out their food she flags me down.)
Vegetarian: “I hate to be a bother but there’s um, something in my sandwich.” She shows me: a spider is stuck in the cheese. I’m freaking out, sure we’re going to have a bunch of unhappy customers.
The guy from the table next to hers tries to lean over and see it. He asks “What’s in it?”‘
Vegetarian: “Some kind of meat. I’m a vegetarian. I really hate to ask but could I please have a new one?”
Me: “Of course, I am so sorry. I’ll get that to you right away.” I rush the plate back to the kitchen and show the chef. He goes red and starts yelling at his staff. My manager runs over and demands to know what’s happening. I tell him.
Manager: “Who else saw? We can’t afford to comp more than three..”
Me: “Just her table. She told the other tables it was meat.”
My manager was so grateful he sent over an entire dessert platter and comped their meal. When I told her table their food free they left a $100 tip.
(I go to visit my 24-year-old best friend in Florida, because her boyfriend called me and told me he was going to propose. After he does so, offers her a ring, she takes it, hugs him, and then studies the ring.)
Her; what is this? *points to a small diamond on the band, that is reasonably sized*
Him; it’s a diamond! *grins*
Her; right. That’s a diamond… ha!
Him; babe, that ring cost $500!
Her; that’s not enough!
Him; what?!
She takes off the ring, and throws it into the sand, then stomps off. Her boyfriend looks at me and his friends who are standing with me, avoiding her family’s gaze. We go over to him, as her family follows him, and hug him. We hung out for the rest of my vacation, and my best friend got really angry with him. I ended up telling her to shut the f*** up, and just leave him alone, if she wanted to be such a greedy b****. Her boyfriend broke up with her then, and after a few months, visited me where I live, and we went out on a few dates. It didn’t work out, but we’re still good friends, and he did find a wife who loves her “small, cheap a** ring!” And finds the original proposal both disgusting and hilarious.
I worked nights during the week and long day shifts on the weekends at a popular burger place, known for their thick burgers. I have been on the clock for two hours when I hear yelling. It’s slow so I had to the back where the manager is yelling at the cooks. It turns out the young fools were bored and decided to play with the hose. They not only broke the sprayer but have torn the hose apart.
Just standing there looking at this fifteen-foot hose, I prayed I wouldn’t need it to clean the bathrooms. The connection to the sprayer was just hanging like a slinky and the sprayer was broken in two. One cook had the hose with the slinky, while the other cook had the handle part of the sprayer in his hand. Both boys were standing there soaked. The back half of the restaurant was soaked. Guess who had to clean up the dry stock and floors, ME. The fools had to clean the kitchen and freezer, it was right next door to where the hook up for the hose was located.
So the night continues, though the two bone heads now try to joke with me about cleaning the bathrooms, which I am dreading. I check the bathrooms. Woman’s is good, just some wiping down and sweeping but the men’s. There is one stall in there… just one… the rest is urinals. Will at some point a cherry bomb or a firecracker had been put in the toilet when it was full of SHIT. I just could not see someone pooping all over that stall because the ceiling and top part was also covered. This stall was ceiling to floor enclosed so a very small space with poop on every surface. Plus it was the farthest room from the front. I really needed that hose. Oh did I forget to say it was all dry and smelled.
No one complained about it and I had no clue when it happened. So I turned around walked right past the fools, who were snickering and right to the manager. I just told her to check out the men’s. She looked at me then the fools and went to see why I was near tears. I really was because I had no clue how to clean it or if I had time. Before she even returned I decided I wasn’t going to. The fools were back joking me and saying how I would be here all night. When did they learn I can’t say I just had a sinking feeling they had a hand in it.
My manager that night was the best, also she was pregnant. When she came back she was pissed. I mean fuming. She just watched them act a fool as she reached over to grab the buckets and brushes we kept near the hose before whistling.
“Since you think it is so funny, why don’t you go look yourself!” She said to them very calmly. They turned toward the kitchen to get back to work only for her to step in their paths. “Oh no. Since you boys broke the hose you are cleaning the men’s bathroom. Like you told (my name) it will take all night.” At that she thrusted the buckets and brushes into their hands and escorted them to the men’s. Her last parting words before turning the corner, “Start with the ceiling as that shit is going to be the hardest place to clean!”
I couldn’t believe what was happening. The cooks never cleaned the bathrooms because they had to stay with the food. As will as the cross contamination that could occur.
That night I learned how to make food and that my manager was a firm believer in Karma. They stayed in the bathrooms for the rest of the night. As I was leaving they were outside the men’s gagging and one of them had a streak down his back. His friend was trying to wipe it off with toilet paper. It was hilarious.
They never joked me about cleaning or ever touched the hose again. I stayed for another few years before I found a better job.
(I work in a call center in the comments/suggestions department. This is my first call of the day.)
Me:  220;Thank you for calling [company] comments and suggestions, this is [my name] speaking, how can I be of service today? 221;
Customer:  220;Hi, [my name], I want to start by telling you that I am in an extremely bad mood and that I realize that this is not your fault personally; I am just mad at [company], so if I am rude or aggressive in any way, I apologize. 221;
(The customer was actually the nicest call I had all day. I took down her complaint and flagged it as priority so that somebody would get to it quickly because she tried very hard not to yell at me for the company 217;s mistakes.)
[Several months back we started selling Star Wars themed Jell-O molds and very few of them sold, so our manager gave them to us cashiers to give away to customers. A few hours had gone by and I had quite honestly forgotten about them when a woman walked up to my register with her son, who started looking at the coloring books we have on display and I notice him looking at a Star Wars one.]
Me: (leans in a bit close, lowering my voice) Does your son like Star Wars?
Woman: Oh my gosh you have no idea! I asked if he wanted to go to the water park today and he said he’d rather sit at home and read the books I got him!
[I then mention the molds and ask if she would like one for him, and she immediately accepts.
Woman: Hey, [boy’s name], this nice lady has something for you! Like a present!
Boy: (puts down the book and walks over) But mom it’s not my birthday!
[I quickly finish the transaction and excuse myself to grab the mold from the register where they were stored. I return with it behind my back and crouch down a bit so I’m closer to his height.]
Me: So, your mom told me you like Star Wars?
Boy: (smiles and nods) Yeah, I love it!
Me: (pulls the mold out from behind my back and hands it to him) This is for you!
[The boy’s eyes lit up as he looked at the characters and he got the biggest grin on his face. He gave me the most sincere ‘Thank you!’ I have ever heard in my life and skipped off with his mom. I’m still grinning about it.]
(We’re in year 2000 or close. As a teenager, I’m slim and “nicely built” (or so I heard), yet I am VERY modest, especially on the chest area, and my family know it and respect it. I don’t mind girls who wear low-cut clothes, I think it’s really great if they enjoy it and I HATE slut-shaming, yet I’d rather get slapped or punched than showing the slightest part of my “parts”. Up to now most girls and women used to wear swimmer one-pieces on the beach, and I loved it. However, bikinis are coming back into fashion and my mom wants to buy me one of those. I accept, thinking she’ll find me a modestly cut two-pieces or anything that’ll cover everything I want to cover. She makes me try a dozen bikinis on. All of them are too low-cut for my tastes, and the shop assistant (he’s male) is staring.)
Me: “Mom, I don’t feel good in any of those.”
Shop assistant: “Are you sure? Because you look great in ALL of those!”
Me: “I don’t feel good. I’d like to try something more modest, please.”
(The shop assistant comes back with a swimsuit that is even more low-cut than the previous one. I’m running out of patience).
Me: “I’d like to try a one-piece on!”
Mom: “But you look so much better in a bikini!
Me: “Mom, EVERYONE looks good in one-pieces! They hide all the flaws!”
Shop assistant: “Which flaws? Your mom’s right, you have a bikini body!”
Me: “It’s MY body and I want to try a one-piece. I just prefer stuff I can swim with without ever losing the straps.”
Mom: “Try this one on before.”
(I try it. It’s still too low-cut for my tastes.)
Me: “I’d prefer a one-piece.”
Shop assistant: “One-pieces are for grandmothers. Is that what you want to do, looking like a granny? That would be a waste!”
Me: “I’d like something that’s not THAT low-cut, please.”
Shop assistant: “Why? You have beautiful breasts.”
(He’s staring at my cleavage and I’m just a girl. I feel dirty. To all shop assistants who read this, if a customer ever tells you she wants something more modest, just give her something more modest. Don’t make her try sexy things on “for her own good” if she doesn’t want to, especially if she’s a teenager. Prude-shaming is just as wrong as slut-shaming.)
Chile, Dentist, Jerk, Santiago | Healthy | May 3, 2019
(I have recently changed my dentist. I’m 30 and I have never had any cavities before, but I go to a consult since I notice something weird in two of my teeth. I suspect they are cavities but they don’t hurt or bother me at all, and I don’t know what cavities look like.)
Dentist: “You have four cavities! What a disaster!”
Me: “Well, it’s the first four in 30 years.”
Dentist: “This looks so bad! We need x-rays!”
Me: “I’d have come earlier but they didn’t hurt and they look very small, so it took me a while to notice them.”
Dentist: “Four cavities! This is insane! Are you bulimic?”
Me: “No.”
Dentist: “You sure? It clearly looks like bulimia.”
Me: “I’m not bulimic. I’m not alcohol abusive, either; I barely ever throw up.”
(The doctor doesn’t believe me, and sends me to do the x-rays. I come back to have the cavities fixed.)
Dentist: “Are you sure you don’t throw up? This amount of cavities is not normal!”
(By then, I feel filthy. I don’t throw up and I brush my teeth, but the big deal she is making makes it look like I am her worst case in years. She fixes my cavities, which are all very superficial, and I go home pretty worried and thinking about buying a different mouthwash, toothbrush, and toothpaste. My boyfriend is having some friends over and I tell them what happened.)
Friend: “Four in your life? I get four cavities removed every time I go to the dentist!”
Boyfriend: “You can’t see them because they are in the back of my mouth, but I’ve had several big fixes.”
(The following day, two of my four fixes fall out while I’m brushing my teeth. I go to have them re-fixed. The dentist keeps telling me to suck it up, still implying I have an eating disorder. The remaining two fall out within a month, but this time I go to a different professional. I’m already expecting to get yelled at for my poor dental condition.)
Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Kentucky, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | May 3, 2019
(I wear contacts, and I’ve had problems seeing when using my contacts for a while now. It has finally gotten to the point where I can’t stand it and go to the eye doctor to get my prescription checked. A student does the actual exam and finds my new prescription, and I can already tell a difference. She leaves and the actual doctor comes in.)
Doctor: *takes a look at the paperwork the student completed* “Well, it looks like your prescription stayed the same, so you can just order some more of the same contacts.”
Me: *shocked* “Really? I’ve been having double vision and I can’t focus my eyes at a close range very well.”
Doctor: “Nope, it’s the same. Are you sure you’re having problems?”
Me: “Yes, I’ve also been getting headaches from straining my eyes to focus.”
Doctor: *repeats the exam TWICE to find my eye prescription* “Well, I found the same thing she did, which is a slight decrease in prescription in your right eye. This is very unusual since eyesight doesn’t normally get better with time, so I think your prescription should stay the same.”
(We go back and forth a few times; I keep insisting that I need a change. It’s very unusual for me to advocate for myself this much, but I really can’t take the eye strain anymore so I KNOW I can’t stay with the same prescription. He finally agrees to let me try the lower prescription on a trial and come back in two weeks to see how I like it. The trial contacts have to be ordered by the receptionist, and I notice the doctor go around and point to the screen and tell her to “order these instead,” but I don’t think anything of it. I go back in a week when they come in. The receptionist hands me the trial contacts and I have a look at the prescription number.)
Me: *confused and irritated look on my face*
Receptionist: “Is something wrong? You look confused.”
Me: “These are supposed to be trial contacts for a new prescription. Why are they the same as my current contacts?”
Receptionist: *takes the contacts back, looks at her computer and back at the contacts, and starts getting flustered* “Um, I don’t know. Let me look at this…”
(She eventually got a different doctor in the practice to come to look at my file. The other doctor took one look at my file, immediately went to get me the correct contacts — which DIDN’T have to be ordered — and told me to come back and see her instead of the first doctor. At my appointment with her, she told me that my prescription should actually be even lower than the first doctor prescribed. The only conclusion I can come up with is that the first doctor didn’t believe me and was trying to trick me into staying with the same prescription, twice! [Doctor], why was it so hard for you to believe I couldn’t see?!)
Awesome, Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Nurses, USA | Healthy | May 2, 2019
(I have a serious phobia of needles due to a traumatic incident when I was a child, and because of this I always need someone present with me to cope with the situation. I am due to have very minor surgery on my arm, but I will need two needles during the operation. My boyfriend schedules off to go with me, but on the day of, he is called into work. I can’t cancel or I will incur a large fee, so I decide to tough it out and go. When I am called into the room, the nurse starts asking me questions, and I let her know that I have a phobia of needles. As soon as she leaves the room I enter into hysterics. I end up calling a friend, and he calms me down by the time the doctor returns with the nurse. They keep my friend on speaker, the nurse holds my hand, and they all keep me laughing so much I don’t have time to cry. These are just some of my favorite moments from the hour-long procedure.)
Doctor: “You’re telling me you’re getting birth control, but you’re afraid of a little prick?”
(Another moment…)
Friend: “You still alive over there?”
Me: “I sure hope so. Is everything going all right?”
Doctor: “Oh, you’ll know something’s wrong when you hear me walk out the door saying, ‘I am not dealing with that paperwork today.’”
(Another moment…)
Me: *to nurse* “Is it really bad?”
Nurse: “Don’t ask me, I’m not looking! Why do you think I need to hold your hand?!”
(Another moment…)
Me: “Thank you so much for being so nice to me. I know, as an adult, I should be able to handle this all by now. I know it’s not logical; I just work myself up and go into hysterics.”
Doctor: “And while you were in the room with me, you didn’t cry once. Sometimes it’s not your fault that you’re scared. Sometimes it’s the fault of the people around you for not knowing how to make you feel safe.”
(I can’t thank those three enough for not only making a terrible experience into a great memory, but for helping relieve some of the self-hatred I had due to my phobia. If I ever need a shot again, I know exactly where I want to go!)
Doctor/Physician, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, USA | Healthy | May 2, 2019
A standard practice in the US is for pharmacies to call physicians for refills on prescriptions, not patients. If there are issues with getting refills, the physician’s office will contact the patient for a visit.
I’m currently seeing a new physician who I’m not happy with, but the waitlist is two months long to see a different doctor. I’ve found that this doctor doesn’t listen and doesn’t seem to take mental health issues seriously. She tried to switch my medications — without telling me — despite the fact that I’ve been stable on this medication for over five years. She also accused me of faking foot pain, despite evidence that I had an untreated break in my foot two years ago which didn’t heal well, and tried to convince me to get unnecessarily invasive tests at a specialist clinic for no reason. She also made me get tested for Hepatitis and HIV because I have tattoos — which are all over a year old — even though I just had those tests done two months prior as part of my regular checkup with my old doctor, which was in my medical record.
I’m on a mental health medication known for terrible withdrawal symptoms after just one missed dose. It’s very important that I take it every single day. I notice that I am out of refills, so I notify my pharmacy and they send out a refill request. It is denied because I still have a month left. I have the pharmacy send in another refill request two weeks later. The doctor doesn’t respond. The pharmacy contacts me, saying there were some issues and they can’t get a refill. I call my doctor’s office. They say they will have my doctor send in a refill that day. Still no refill and no request for an appointment. I call again two days later, still nothing. I now have less than a week left. I call every day for the rest of the week, still nothing. On Saturday morning, I’m tired and scared because I’m out of medication and don’t have any refills. I decide to go to the ER because it’s the closest place open on a weekend; there are two urgent care centers but one isn’t open on weekends and the other doesn’t have someone who can write prescriptions working that day.
I go into the ER and explain my issue. I’m clearly not having an emergency, but thankfully there are no other patients that morning and they’re able to write me a one-week prescription and send me on my way in under thirty minutes. While I’m at the ER, I’m clearly frustrated but grateful for the lovely doctor and nurse who are assisting me. The nurse gives me a giant hug and a chocolate muffin from the break room, and both the doctor and the nurse file a report against my doctor.
Monday morning at eight am, I get a call from my doctor’s boss. She saw on my chart that I had an ER visit for the sole purpose of getting a medication refill and wanted to know why. I explained the situation, and also mentioned being worried that I couldn’t afford an ER bill because emergency room visits aren’t covered under my insurance if they’re not considered an actual emergency, such as a broken limb.
A few days later, I check my insurance claims to see what my ER bill is going to be, expecting a bill of at least $2,000 out-of-pocket. My entire ER bill has been comped, as well as my past visits with the terrible doctor. I end up paying $0 for the entire debacle. I also get a three-month refill instead of one month, and it is also comped instead of the usual $45 per month.
I have since found a new physician, but at the same clinic because they went so far above and beyond to correct one doctor’s mistakes.
Bad Behavior, Doctor/Physician, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, USA | Healthy | May 2, 2019
When I was very young, my family lived in a rural area where we only had access to one clinic that took our health insurance. While we could have driven into the city — about three hours — if there had ever been a situation that the clinic couldn’t handle or if we’d needed a special consultation, for the most part, my parents stuck with the local clinic. The clinic was very small; I don’t believe that there were ever more than four doctors on staff, and most of them were not there full time. Although the clinic tried to hire doctors who practiced family medicine — so they could see all ages of patients — there was one pediatrician on staff, and because of this, my brother and I were just automatically sent to him, as were most kids in our area. He often rushed through appointments and was impatient when my parents had questions, although since my brother and I were generally healthy kids, our family didn’t have too many issues with him… until I was four.
When I was four, I developed a strange rash on my neck, back, and legs. My mom took me to the clinic, where the pediatrician took one look and said that I had ringworm. He prescribed a salve, an oral antifungal medication, and an antifungal shampoo, since the rash on my neck was near my hairline and ringworm can cause permanent hair loss if it develops on your scalp. I was on the medication for over a month before the symptoms subsided, and we thought that it was over… until I had another rash a few months after that. And a few months after that. The doctor kept prescribing the same regime every time. I was miserable because the oral medication messed up my stomach, and my parents were driving themselves crazy trying to sanitize anything that I ever came into contact with to hopefully prevent a recurrence and to avoid my brother getting infected.
This happened about four times over the course of two years; although my parents asked if there could possibly be something else going on, since ringworm is not supposed to be a chronic condition, the doctor blew them off every time and essentially told them not to question his authority, since he’d gone to school for this and they hadn’t. He was very condescending, and when my parents asked for advice, he’d just repeat stuff about hygiene and washing up. My parents had actually just decided to take me into the city for a second opinion if I had another rash when the usual doctor stepped down and we got a new one.
My parents brought my brother and me in for our flu shots, and the new doctor noticed the beginnings of the rash on my arm. He asked my parents about it, and they told him that they weren’t interested in putting me on the same antifungals since they clearly weren’t working and were just making me miserable. He was confused and asked why I’d be on antifungals for eczema. A couple of quick tests confirmed that he was correct, that I definitely didn’t have ringworm, and instead of multiple infections, I had one condition that flared up every few months. I got a prescription for an anti-inflammatory cream, and the doctor suggested that my mom change our laundry detergent, and then the rash was handled. But that wasn’t the end of the story.
The new doctor checked my file and confirmed that the old doctor hadn’t done any testing to diagnose me the first time — no black-light test, no biopsies or cultures, nothing — and had just marked that it visually presented as ringworm. Each subsequent time I came in, the old doctor stuck to that rather than reassess. After that, my parents requested a copy of my file, and then saw the notes that the old doctor had made, which basically amounted to him complaining about working with dirty, poor, uneducated families who couldn’t keep their kids clean. He hadn’t bothered to do any further testing when my parents told him that they’d complied with all his suggestions for how to make sure that I didn’t catch “ringworm” again, because he just assumed that anyone who lived in our rural area must be a dumb, ignorant hick who couldn’t really value hygiene.
My parents were furious. We later learned that he had been asked to step down from his position in the clinic precisely because he’d had this attitude with most of the families who came into the clinic, and had said as much to one of the nurses, not realizing that a patient had overheard. One of the things he must not have realized about smaller communities like ours is that word spreads like wildfire. Dozens of families were suddenly requesting records for their children, and people found multiple stories like mine where the pediatrician diagnosed without testing, or made assumptions about families that impacted the way he handled their treatment. There was a community-wide effort to send complaints to the state medical board. I know that there was at least one successful lawsuit against him, and last I heard, that pediatrician’s license to practice medicine was revoked.
Meanwhile, our new doctor treated my eczema, saved my brother’s life during an allergic reaction, became a hero in our community for doing house calls, and has received state-wide recognition for being willing to go above and beyond for his patients.
Doctor/Physician, Hawaii, Honolulu, Jerk, Medical Office, Nurses, USA | Healthy | May 1, 2019
(My one-and-a-half-year-old needs a TB test — for the curious, it turns out negative. She’s always been very strong, and I know it’s going to be tricky to get her to hold still for the jab, so I offer to help the technician.)
Me: “She’s pretty strong; would you like me to help hold her?”
Tech: *eyes rolling and voice dripping with sarcasm* “I’m just sure she is. Every parent says that.”
Me: *stepping back* “Okay, have fun.”
(For the next few minutes, the tech finds himself unable to do the quick little jab because my daughter is able to fight him off. Finally, he admits defeat.)
Tech: “Could you hold her, please?”
Me: *sickly sweet* “I’d be happy to.”
(I wrapped my arms and legs around her tightly, and it was still a struggle, but the tech administered the test. If he’d just humored me instead of being condescending, it would have been much easier for him!)
Bad Behavior, Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Logan, USA, Utah | Healthy | May 1, 2019
(I have epilepsy and have had several partial-complex seizures. I have been delivered by ambulance to the city hospital; unfortunately, the neurologist on call is one who I stopped seeing when he accused me of faking seizures in order to get attention, possibly because he is friendly with the neurologist who molested me when I was a teen.)
ER Nurse: “Her ID says she has epilepsy. We need to make sure she’s had her medication today.”
Neurologist: “There’s no need. She’s just being dramatic.” *to me* “[My Name]! Stop trying to make everyone feel sorry for you.” *to the nurse* “Give her some [anxiety medication]. She’ll tell you it gives her panic attacks; she’s a chronic liar. Just do it.”
(I am not sure what happens next, but I wake up in the darkened room alone. Confused and sick, I throw up in a trash bin and wander down an empty hall until I find an exit. I remember walking blankly until I find a street sign, then calling my sister and asking her to pick me up. About an hour later, I am home in bed when the phone rings and my mother answers.)
Caller: “This is [Caller] from [Hospital]. Your daughter was here earlier today. She isn’t currently in the room and hasn’t been seen in a few hours; would you like us to begin looking for her?”
Mother: “She’s with us now, and safe, no thanks to you.”
Caller: “Oh, okay. When can she come in to give us her billing information?”
(I did go back, with my parents… and a lawyer. He suggested that charging me for improper treatment that I had never consented to, and had been harmed by, might not be in their best interest. They dropped the bill. They also sent my mother flowers, which was weird.)
Bad Behavior, Doctor/Physician, Illinois, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | May 1, 2019
(I have been battling a lot of stomach pain and bloating. One day, it becomes unbearable. My regular doctor’s office is closed, so I go to Urgent Care. The doctor comes in and asks what my symptoms are. I’ve just finished describing them to her.)
Doctor: “And is there any chance you’re pregnant?”
Me: *laughs* “Nope. No chance.”
Doctor: “Don’t laugh, young lady. It’s a normal diagnosis for a young lady in her 20s.”
Me: “I understand that. But if I’m pregnant, you’d better start looking for a star, three wise men, and some shepherds.”
(I’ve used this joke with my regular doctor and my OBGYN, and they both laughed. This doctor, however, frowns and folds her arms.)
Doctor: “Uh-huh. Your chart says you’re on birth control. Tell me, what does a ‘virgin’ need birth control for?”
(Yes, she actually air-quotes “virgin” with her fingers. I explode.)
Me: “Because I have severe period problems, and I can’t afford to be in bed for two weeks a month with cramps and migraines! Not everyone who is on birth control does it so they can have sex! Way to assume things, though. Do you do this to all your female patients?”
Doctor: “Um… Let’s just check your stomach, shall we?”
Me: “Yes, please!”
(As she’s examining me
Doctor: “Ah… I think it’s really admirable to see a young lady in her 20s who is still… pure.”
Me: “Don’t try to make this better.”
Doctor: “Sorry.”
(She announced that she had no idea what I had, and sent me home with an antibiotic. I didn’t take it. I called my regular doctor when the office reopened. He ordered a bunch of tests. It was determined later that I had a nasty case of IBS.)
England, Hampshire, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Non-Dialogue, Nurses, UK | Healthy | April 30, 2019
After getting mugged, which involved several kicks to the head, I came to in A&E a bit concussed but otherwise okay-ish.
I had been out for a few hours, and as a smoker, my nicotine levels were way down. I asked if I could use my vape as I’m allergic to the glue they use on most of the commercial patches. The answer was that an anti-allergenic patch would be provided. I ask what specific brand it is, as I am severely allergic to some.
A tech turns up and tapes a patch to my arm, complaining that this brand is awful for staying on.
It is ninety seconds from patch to, “Oops, we stopped your heart as part of the massive response to what you told us not to do.”
I’m now allowed to vape in bed if I can keep it discreet, or I can go down to a vape spot if there’s a nurse or someone willing to go with me. Given that half the medical staff are smokers, I’m proving popular.
When It’s The Healthcare That Gives Us The Blood Pressure
Insurance, New Jersey, Non-Dialogue, Patients, USA | Healthy | April 30, 2019
For an assortment of reasons, my husband has been unemployed for a while, outside of extremely short temp work and off-the-book odd jobs. For a while he has been having random symptoms: foot and ankle pain, shortness of breath after exertion — more than normal — and lower back pain. All together, they don’t seem to add up to anything aside from random aches and pains, they never stick around long, and without insurance, he can’t afford to see a doctor properly, so he just treats with aspirin and the like.
Finally, it happens: the Affordable Care Act is passed. He signs up and gets real health insurance for the first time in a decade. He’s assigned a primary care physician and we call to set up an appointment. No answer. We try again, and again, and again, at both the number listed on the insurance site and on their individual site. We never get an answer; we never even get voicemail. After a bit more than a month of this, he’s feeling ill; the local EMO doesn’t take the medicare-based version of his insurance, so we head to the hospital ER right down the street. He apologizes for coming for such a minor thing but we don’t have any other options at the time. They say it’s fine and after a wait, they take his vitals… and they immediately wheel him into the observation room. We’re trying desperately to get some actual information from the first nurse bringing him in, or the second nurse coming to hook him up to all their monitors.
Finally, a full doctor comes in and starts asking questions, but we interrupt and ask, specifically, why they are doing all this. She shows us the blood pressure monitor: 220/120. His BP has always been high, especially at the doctor’s/hospital because of “white coat syndrome,” but never that high! Somehow he never actually had a heart attack or stroke over the past several months, but that unrestrained pressure did a lot of damage to his kidneys. My husband is in the hospital for about ten days — although he was originally going to get out in six, one batch of test results gets messed up and they can’t run it again until the following Monday. When he leaves, he is on a prescription for about eight different heart and blood pressure medications, two of which are quickly dropped and two others cut in half once he gets home and can relax!
The bad news is that, because of the level of damage his kidneys have suffered, my husband’s on the verge of needing to go on the transplant list. The good news is that his heart has made a near-complete recovery, his prescriptions have been cut down further, and his kidney functions have actually improved to a point where he’s no longer hovering on the verge of failure!
And that’s why we say to this day, with no irony: thanks, Obama!
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