Australia, Current Events, Health & Body, Medical Office, New South Wales | Healthy | July 30, 2020
I finally have an in-person appointment with a psychologist after having several phone appointments during the global health crisis. The secretary calls me the day before to do what is now the usual health check.
Secretary: “Hello, [My Name], is now a good time to ask you a few questions before your appointment tomorrow with [Psychologist]?”
Me: “Yes, absolutely.”
Secretary: “Oh, great. Have you had any coughs, fevers, sore throat, or body aches and pains?”
Me: “No, to the cough, fever, and sore throat, but the body aches and pains are common with my fibromyalgia.”
Secretary: “That should be fine. Have you been overseas or in Victoria in the last fourteen days?”
Me: “No.”
Secretary: “Okay, and have you been in contact with anyone who could have [spreading illness] recently?”
Me: “I work in a pathology lab.”
Secretary: “Oh. Um… I don’t know what to say to that.”
She laughs awkwardly.
Me: “I was tested a week ago and I was clear. But I also appreciate it if you don’t want me in the building; I can have a phone appointment again.”
Secretary: “Um, do you mind if I go and ask?”
Me: “Go for it. Just call me back. This isn’t the first time I have flustered people.”
Secretary: “Thank you for being so understanding! I will call you back soon.”
Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Medical Office, Singapore | Healthy | July 29, 2020
I suffer from chronic gastritis. Most doctors who do not realise the severity of my condition will prescribe a mild drug that is not strong enough. I often have to request something stronger.
At the clinic, I get a very condescending doctor who looks down her nose on the patients, as though she thinks she’s too good to waste her time on us. She doesn’t even look at me the entire time while I describe my symptoms but stares somewhere to my right, and she talks to me as though I am a five-year-old kid.
Doctor: “This is just a stomach ache. I’ll give you [Drug #1 ].”
Me: “I’ve taken that before; it’s too mild. Can I have [Drug #2 ], instead?”
Doctor: “You don’t need that. [Drug #1 ] is good enough.”
Me: “I have a history of chronic gastritis. I’ve taken [Drug #1 ] before; it’s not strong enough.”
Doctor: *Even more condescendingly* “Oh, what medicine do you want to take, then?”
Doctor: “I’ve never heard of that medicine. Are you sure of the name?”
I figure I may be mispronouncing the name because, after all, I’m not a doctor. I try to describe it.
Me: “I’m not sure if I’m mispronouncing it. It’s by the same company as [Drug #1 ] but with three active ingredients instead of two. It comes in a green bottle.”
Doctor: *More condescendingly than ever* “Well, girl, I can give you something else, but I can’t guarantee it will come in a green bottle.”
Me: “Do you think I’m two years old? Wanting a medicine for the colour of the bottle like candy? I’m describing it to you in simple terms since you don’t seem to know which drug it is.”
The doctor looked stunned like she didn’t think I was smart enough to know the difference. She sputtered something and changed the prescription. I ignored her, checked the prescription to see that she did give me the stronger drug, and left without saying another word to her.
Sometimes, when we go to patient’s homes to get them to the hospital, we can’t bring them to the closest one because it’s full. This patient was set to go to the closest, but it was not possible.
Patient’s Wife: “So, you’ll bring him to [Hospital], right?”
Colleague: “Ma’am, [Hospital] is currently full.”
He opens the website that shows the availability of hospitals in the area.
Colleague: “See? It’s red. We could bring your husband to[List Of Different Hospitals in the area].”
Patient’s Wife: “But he has always been treated at [Hospital]! They know him there!”
Colleague: “They might know him, but that doesn’t mean they can magically fit him in the already full hospital.”
Patient’s Wife: “This is outrageous! My husband’s sick and you refuse to get him to the hospital!”
Me: “No, ma’am. We simply can’t get him to [Hospital]. But we’re offering you hospitals in the area that’ll surely treat him just as well. Just give us the physician letters from the hospital and the other hospital will surely know how to proceed and properly treat him.”
Patient’s Wife: “I demand you call the hospital and ask if you can bring him!”
My colleague and I look at each other and sigh. He starts calling the hospital. He explains the situation to the woman sitting at the ER desk. He then puts her on speaker.
Woman At The ER Desk: “Ma’am, we are pretty busy here. The paramedics could bring him here, but he would have to wait a very long time until he’s being treated.”
Patient’s Wife: “I don’t care! He has to be at [Hospital]!”
My colleague and I shrugged and decided to just drive the patient to the hospital. We dropped him off, apologizing quietly to the ER staff for giving them more work. A few hours later, as we passed by the ER to pick a patient up to drive them home again, we saw the woman loudly complaining to the ER desk and asking why it was taking so long for her husband to be treated. My colleague
College & University, Health & Body, Ignoring & Inattentive, Non-Dialogue, Students, Teachers, USA | Healthy | July 27, 2020
I am an exercise science major. For one of my classes, we have to perform a treadmill test on one student and use the data collected for a lab write-up.
The day of the lab, my class prior to this is also in the exercise science laboratory, so I am sitting in a chair inside when my professor walks in. She asks me to come and help her set up the lab because I did the same lab with the same professor last semester for a different class.
I go in and start to put together the headpiece that will monitor the subject’s breathing. The rest of the small class walks in — only five people — and they stand around talking amongst themselves until the professor asks them who is going to be the subject. They decide to use “nose goes” to determine who the subject will be.
I do not participate because I have gloves on to keep the headpiece sanitary — it goes inside of the subject’s mouth — and I kind of assume I am exempt from this because I am basically setting up the whole lab by myself. The only things that have to be done after this are connecting the headpiece to a tube and writing down the data that a computer collects for us.
The other students don’t care about this and tell me that I have to be the subject because I lost “nose goes.” I agree because I’m not a confrontational person due to my severe anxiety. So, the professor and one other student help me put on the headpiece. As they are putting it on, the professor tells me she is taking off my glasses to get it on, but she’ll put them back on before the test starts. The professor then gets distracted because my heart rate monitor is not working and forgets about my glasses.
This is a very big problem because I am almost legally blind with my glasses, and I try to tell her this, but I can’t speak due to the headpiece. So, they start the treadmill and I quickly realize how bad this is. The treadmill is all black, so I am unable to tell the difference between the belt and the plastic siding. During the first minute of the test, I step too far forward, partway onto the front plastic, and almost trip.
This sends me into panic mode, because I know I am going to fall, hurt myself, and completely embarrass myself by the end of this fifteen-minute test. I try to hold onto the sides of the treadmill for security, but the professor hits my hands away and tells me I can’t do this. So, I start to flap my hands, one of my stims that I use to calm myself when I get incredibly anxious.
At the three-minute mark, another student holds a paper in front of my face to determine my rating of perceived exertion, or how hard I feel the test is at this point. I try to tell them I can’t see the words on the paper, but they take me gesturing towards the paper as pointing at a specific rating and then tell me not to talk so I don’t mess up the data.
I get seven minutes into the test. My vision is going black and my heart is beating so fast I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack. I later find out that I was way above my maximum healthy heart rate and the test should have been stopped, but the students were not paying any attention to my heart rate so it went unnoticed.
I finally decide that I can no longer go on with the test and give them the indication that I need to stop. My professor asks me to go “one more minute” but then notices my heart rate and tells the other students that I need to get off the treadmill immediately. The test is stopped, the headpiece is removed, and I am able to sit in a chair. I’m shaking and hyperventilating, still feel like I’m about to have a heart attack, and am incredibly embarrassed that I was unable to complete the test and that I’m having a full-blown panic attack in front of my class.
The professor looks over the data and sees the ratings of perceived exertion that were collected when I was wildly gesturing towards the paper. She asks me, “Why did you rate these so low; wasn’t the test hard for you? You were having a hard time.”
I manage to basically hiss out between my gasps for breath, “I couldn’t see. You didn’t give me my glasses back. I’m almost blind.”
The professor shuts up and the other students get me to re-rate the test. After this, I am able to go home, thinking that this will be the end of it.
However, the professor proceeds to mention how I was unable to complete the test every week, assuming it was because I was out of shape, not because I was having a panic attack. This is so embarrassing that I end up having minor panic attacks before I go to this class every day, fearing that she is going to mention it again.
I wish there was some sort of incredible ending to this story where I stood up for myself and yelled at the professor, but due to a certain illness outbreak, I ended up having to complete the class online and did not have to deal with that professor for the rest of the semester.
Extra Stupid, Hospital, Nurses, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | July 23, 2020
My dad is a clinical pharmacist before retirement. One hospital he works in for about thirty years has some nurses that are clearly in need of some extra training. The pharmacists can see the entire profile for the patient, including medications currently prescribed, what they are in the hospital for at the moment, etc.
Dad receives a prescription marked “urgent” that does not correlate with the patient’s diagnosis, and he immediately calls the nurse.
Dad: “Hi, this is [Dad] from the pharmacy. I am unable to fill the script you just sent me. Please double-check and resend it.”
Nurse: “Um, no. I sent it to you; you fill it. Do your d*** job!”
Dad: “Not happening. Have the doctor call me immediately if you won’t comply.”
Nurse: “What the f***?! How dare you insinuate I can’t do my job?!”
Dad: “Because you just requested a drug to induce labor for an eighty-five-year-old patient here for a heart attack. I’m not going to kill her.”
My dad hung up and dialed the doctor directly to get it handled.
Luckily, it was something my dad could start on while waiting on the doctor to send the CORRECT prescription and had already done so based on the semi-close names of the drugs, and the lady was okay. Unluckily, the nurse reported my dad for “unprofessional ism” and he had a long investigation started. The nurse didn’t last long.
Crazy Requests, Insurance, Non-Dialogue, Pennsylvania, Pittsburgh, USA | Healthy | July 19, 2020
My son was born with a very slight heart murmur. The pediatrician said he needed to see a cardiologist so they called one in right away. He was only an hour old.
One month later, I got a letter saying the insurance wouldn’t pay because it needed a pre-authorization twenty-four hours before the visit. I called the insurance company and said that twenty-four hours before the visit, my son was negative twenty-three hours old. They paid the claim.
California, Crazy Requests, Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Jerk, USA | Healthy | July 18, 2020
I work in central supply at a hospital. Besides individual items, we carry prepackaged kits.
One evening, I’m returning to the department after making my deliveries. I find a man in scrubs trying to force the door open.
Me: “Can I help you?”
Doctor: “Why is this door locked?!”
Me: “Because it’s after hours and I’m the only one here.”
I unlock the door and he follows me inside.
Doctor: “I need [Specific Brand Kit we don’t carry].”
Me: “We don’t carry [Specific Brand]; we only have [Our Brand].”
Doctor: “I don’t like [Our Brand]! I ordered [Specific Brand]! You’re supposed to have it!”
Me: “I’m sorry. We haven’t received any new products in a while.”
Doctor: “How do you know?”
Me: “Any time we get something new, my manager puts one on the dry erase board. She writes the item number and the location where it’s kept here in the department.”
He’s still not convinced, so I show him the shelves where the kits are stored. Of course, he doesn’t find the one he wants.
Doctor: “Fine. I’ll have to take one of these. I’ll need a couple of other things, too.”
He grabs a few more things and starts to leave when I stop him.
Me: “I need to know where that stuff is going.”
Doctor: *Rolling his eyes* “It’s going with me.”
Me: “You’re taking it home?”
Doctor: “No! I’m going to use it on a patient.”
Me: “Then I need the location of the patient. I have to log it in the book so the correct floor is charged.”
Doctor: “Oh. It’s going to [floor].”
I got everything logged in the book and he finally left.
Current Events, Employees, Health & Body, Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Nurses, The Netherlands | Healthy | July 12, 2020
I have to visit my local hospital. At this moment, the health crisis is still ongoing, but it is not really spreading fast or causing many deaths in my country anymore.
When you enter the hospital, there are people there who ask you what your business is and if you have any symptoms related to the illness. The way this hospital is set up is that you have a big open space right after the doors. During this time, they have taped off a section for people entering so they catch everybody going in and are able to ask them questions.
The way they set this up is that they have a couple of tables surrounded by plexiglass screens about two meters in height and U-shaped. The area for employees is further restricted by tables which sort of create corridors for people to go through. These tables are not protected by the plexiglass. The employees are standing behind those tables, calling us through. Luckily, it is not very busy and I get through easily.
When you exit, you get close to that area again. I linger a bit when I exit because I have to get some stuff in and out of my bag. As I do, I overhear a conversation.
One man asks why the hospital staff has plexiglass screens but doesn’t stand behind them, instead choosing to stand behind the unprotected tables. I take a look at the setup again and I realise that the way these areas are set up, they clearly meant for patients and visitors to go up to the front of the screens, answer the questions required, and then pass through the little artificial corridors to enter the hospital. This way, the employee would be protected at all times and never get close enough to the visitor/patient without a barrier in between them.
However, as it turns out, in order for plexiglass to stand on its own, it has to be quite thick. And what happens if you’re standing behind thick plexiglass? Well… predictably, they will have trouble hearing each other. Apparently, after trying it out, the employees realised that communication was impossible through these screens and that is why they abandoned them. I guess they still managed to stay far enough away from the patients and visitors, at least as far away as required by our laws — 1.5 meters — but it amazed me that the hospital didn’t think of the communication problem.
And for everyone asking if they couldn’t have used microphones and speakers to communicate, here’s a couple of reasons why they didn’t. This setup is in the middle of a big open space. There are no plugs anywhere near. And it is too dangerous to put a wire over that floor. On top of that, the more important reason I guess is that hospitals already don’t get much funding and, as such, are notorious cheapskates.
Australia, Current Events, Health & Body, Instant Karma, Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, Nurses, Pranks | Healthy | July 11, 2020
I’m a nurse working in a drive-thru screening clinic for a widespread illness.
Getting swabbed for this illness involves a throat and nasal swab and it is not a pleasant experience at all. I try my absolute best to be friendly, courteous, gentle, and comforting to make the best of a bad situation for our patients.
And most patients are lovely.
But some are not.
I have one guy drive up with two peers in the car, and he is clearly trying to impress them with bravado.
After ranting at me that “all this s***” is just a scam and how I must like hurting people if I do this job, giving me fake, rude names, etc., we finally get around to taking his throat swab.
I have the swab in his mouth when he lets out a sudden, loud shriek, obviously with the intention of frightening me and making me jump as a “hilarious” joke.
However, due to the fact that I have the swab in his mouth, when I do jump slightly, I end up jabbing his throat with the swab.
“Mate, maybe don’t do that when I have a stick deep down in your throat, okay?” I suggest.
With his eyes downcast, looking humbled and like someone who just got poked sharply in the back of the throat, he says in a small voice, “I’m sorry.”
Canada, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office | Healthy | July 6, 2020
I work at a clinic where we frequently send people for surgery. Sometimes we send people to the hospital for emergency surgery right from the clinic, but most often, we have their surgery scheduled anywhere between a week from when we saw them up to a few months in the future.
In these cases, we give the patient a quick explanation of the paperwork they need to fill out, as well as how the process works. When we are able to tell patients what day their surgery will be, we explain that we get the time for their surgery right from the hospital but we won’t get that information until the day before their surgery day.
One day, I am answering phones at work when I get the following call.
Caller: “Hi, I was just at the clinic and they said my dad is going to have surgery on [date], but they didn’t give us the time!” *Laughs*
Me: “We always call patients the day before their surgery in the afternoon to inform them of their surgery time.”
Caller: “Oh, that’s what the girl at the desk said.”
Me: “…”
I get that people are a little nervous and preoccupied when they are told they will need to have surgery. However, we get calls like this every single day! Some people just don’t listen, I guess.
Health & Body, home, Non-Dialogue, Parents/Guardians, USA | Healthy | July 5, 2020
My father contacts me to let me know he is in the hospital. Something is going on with his heart; they are not sure what yet. After a lot of testing, and a lot of panic on my end, he is released with some new medication. He says they are not exactly sure what happened; he didn’t have a heart attack, though.
Fast forward several months, and the topic comes up. I ask him if they have figured out what happened that day.
“No,” he says. “Just that it was some kind of myocardial infarction.”
Cue my bio-nerdy stare of disbelief. That was the day I got to tell my engineer father that “myocardial infarction” is the technical term for a freaking heart attack!
Awesome Workers, Health & Body, Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, Patients, Reception, Sweden | Healthy | July 4, 2020
I suffer from recurring bouts of erysipelas and have had it twelve times for the past nine years. Each time, I amass a lot of fluids in my body and gain twenty to twenty-five kilograms in a couple of days, which is great fun. I then work hard to shed the unwanted weight and drop back to the original weight, only to get erysipelas again. It’s rather draining mentally.
The first time I got sick, I didn’t understand what was happening. My legs were so filled with fluid that they stopped working, and it took me four hours to drag myself from the living room out to the phone in the hallway to call for an ambulance. I ended up spending four months isolated in the hospital, and I lost all skin on my right leg, from the hip and all the way down to under my feet and around my toes. Instead, green gunk gushed out from the open wound.
It took me six months before I could walk again and I became a “frequent flyer” at my local health clinic during this time, when I also battled cancer.
About eighteen months ago, it was my best friend’s birthday and I was looking forward to visiting her. When I woke up that morning, I felt unwell, but since I had called out sick the two previous times we were supposed to meet, I didn’t want to disappoint her again. She picked me up, we went to her home, and she gushed over her gifts as I started shaking more and more violently. I fell off my chair as I couldn’t stop shuddering. My friend got this huge blanket and wrapped me in it, but I couldn’t speak as I was shaking too much. She dragged me out to her car and drove me home, where I called the health clinic.
I knew from the shaking and the state of my leg that I had erysipelas again.
I was informed by an automated message that they had filled their daily quota for walk-ins, but I was welcome to try again the next day. I knew it was erysipelas but it also felt different as it was progressing much faster than normal.
I called the national health helpline and talked to a rather snotty lady. She told me to call an ambulance right away.
I refused, as I had had erysipelas eleven times before. I knew that I just needed antibiotics and I would get better in a few days — no need for an ambulance or clogging up the emergency room with something unimportant.
So, barely conscious and shaking violently, I went out into the kitchen and made schnitzels. After all, it was what I had planned to cook that day. They were delicious, but… it was not the most logical action. I was rather delirious, though, which might excuse my lack of logical thinking.
I then called the health clinic again and spoke to the receptionist. I knew I would only need a five-minute appointment to come in, show my glaringly red leg, and get a prescription for antibiotics. Could they possibly squeeze me in?
“Yes, if you can get here at 12:45, we can fit you in.”
“Great! I’ll take the bus in ten minutes, at 12:20. See you!”
By now, my legs were swollen, filled with fluid, and horribly infected, and it was difficult to lift my feet. I used my distance walking sticks as crutches to stumble to the bus stop.
It’s only a three-minute bus ride to the health clinic.
When I entered the health clinic, the reception was deserted. A woman was seated in the waiting area but not waiting for the receptionist; I don’t know if she was the companion of another patient or waiting for her ride home. I sat down by the receptionist with my identification ready and more or less lost consciousness. I was shaking so badly. After a while, the receptionist returned. I was too ill to notice, but the other woman went up for me.
“You have to see her immediately!” the woman told the receptionist. “She’s really sick.”
She handed over my ID and my wallet to the receptionist, who ran me through the computer, and together they managed to shake some life into me and I managed to hop on my own to the waiting room.
My leg hurt so badly that I couldn’t sit properly, and I had to place it on the table. It was pretty disgusting, but the leg hurt so bad.
The nurse came over and said, “Hi, [My Name]! Oh, my! Wait here!”
She rushed over to the doctor’s office; I could hear her urge him to come out right away.
“Hi, [My Name],” the doctor said. “Wow, you have erysipelas. When did it start?”
“Two hours ago,” I said.
“Two hours? No, that can’t be. Can I check your arm?”
Yeah, of course, he could. I wasn’t going to use it myself, so check away.
“Wait here! There’s no need for any exam or testing.” Off he went for a couple of minutes before he returned, chatting on a cell phone. “It’s urgent! You have to rush!” he begged on the phone. Then, he turned back to me. “Okay, [My Name]. You have erysipelas, which you already know, because you know this disease better than any of us doctors here. But… you’re going into sepsis. In two hours, the sepsis has spread from your calves to your elbows. It’s really, really bad. I’ve called an ambulance.”
The ambulance arrived in less than ten minutes. I was quickly treated at the hospital and made a full recovery.
If the receptionist hadn’t squeezed me in, I would have gone to bed, instead. Considering how fast the sepsis was spreading, the outcome would not have been good. I am eternally grateful for the wonderful treatment I got that day.
Jerk, Medical Office, Reception, USA | Healthy | February 17, 2020
(I have a potential diagnosis of a rare and extremely painful neurological disorder. I have to schedule with a neurologist, who lives a four-hour drive from where I live. By this point, I’ve been in severe pain for several months, and my patience for rudeness is admittedly running a bit thin.)
Me: “Hi, I’m calling to see if I need an MRI before I come down.”
Receptionist: “The doctor will inform you if you need that at the appointment.”
Me: “Yes, I understand that, but it’s a four-hour drive to see this doctor and I have to stay overnight and I’d rather not have to do it more than once.”
Receptionist: *much more snippy than is necessary* “Well, that’s not my problem, is it?”
Me: “Pardon me, but I’ve been in fairly serious pain for a while and that’s why I’m calling your office — to make sure that the appointment to get rid of my pain runs smoothly.”
Receptionist: “There’s no reason to take that tone.”
Me: “Are you f****** kidding me?!”
Receptionist: “Young lady, if you insist on using that language with me, I will disconnect the call and inform [Doctor] of your attitude, and we’ll see if you see another neurologist in this hospital.”
(I disconnected the call, had a panic attack, and then cried with my mom for an hour. No one is making a first appointment with a specialist for happy fun times. If you don’t understand that someone is probably calling because they’re in pain or sick, maybe you shouldn’t work in healthcare.)
Let’s Hope They’re A Better Nurse Than A Communicator
California, Extra Stupid, Hospital, Language & Words, Nurses, USA | Healthy | June 28, 2020
I work at a hospital in the central supply department. We carry just about everything: patient care items such as deodorant or slippers, first aid supplies like bandages or gauze, large items like crutches or commodes, and everything in between. Basically, if the nurses carry it in the supply closet, it probably came from us.
One night, I get a call from a nurse on the fourth floor.
Me: “Central Supply, this is [My Name].”
Nurse: “Yeah… is this Central Supply?”
I can feel my eye twitch.
Me: “Yes. Can I help you?”
Nurse: “I’m looking for… a… thing.”
Me: “Okay. What kind of thing?”
Nurse: “It’s plastic. It comes in a package.”
Me: *Putting on my best customer service voice* “That’s about 75% of our inventory. Can you tell me what it’s used for?”
Nurse: “It’s plaaaastic. It comes in a paaaackage.”
Me: “IV tubing?”
Nurse: “No.”
Me: “Catheter?”
Nurse: “No.”
Me: “Oxygen tubing?”
Nurse: “No. It’s plastic. It comes in a package.”
This goes on for a few minutes with me trying to guess the item or trying to get her to describe it to me. The nurse keeps giving me the same answer; only the pronunciation of the words “plastic” and “package” changes.
Me: “Do you have an empty package I could look at?”
Nurse: “No.”
Me: “Is there more than one in the package?”
Nurse: “It’s plastiiiiic. It comes in a packaaaaaage.”
Me: “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re asking for. You’re welcome to come down and look around. Or maybe you could ask one of the other nurses.”
Nurse: “I—”
Me: “I’m getting a call on the other line from the ER. I have to get it. Let me know if you find out what it’s called. Okay. Bye.”
Fortunately, the call from the ER is an easy one. But as soon as I get off the phone with them, I receive another call from the fourth floor.
Me: “Central Supply, this is [My Name].”
Charge Nurse: “Hi, this is [Charge Nurse] from [department].”
Me: “Hi. How can I help you?”
Charge Nurse: “Do you carry water pitcher liners?”
A light bulb goes off and my customer service filter vanishes.
Me: “Oh! Is that what she wanted?!”
Charge Nurse: *Chuckling* “Yeah.”
Me: “Yes. We have those; I’ll bring some right up.”
Not the strangest call I had while I worked there, but definitely the most frustrating.
My dad served in Vietnam between 1969 and 1972. During this time, he saw many of his fellow soldiers injured.
One drew the lucky straw in a firefight and wasn’t fatally injured. The bullet went in one side and out the other side — of his buttocks.
While he was laid up in the hospital, my dad and a few friends visited him.
They all very solemnly entered the guy’s hospital room and very seriously informed him that the doctors had told them that the patient’s bottom was going to have to be amputated due to the injury.
But they were going to get him a nice wooden replacement from the resident local crafters, all shiny and polished, with a belt to hold it on. And they might even be able to afford a pink plastic one for Sundays!
About that time, the patient cottoned on that this was a prank.
Dad and his friends managed to duck out before the bedpan hit them.
Doctor/Physician, Medical Office, Patients, USA | Healthy | June 26, 2020
My sister and I vacation together in Florida, and we come back sick as dogs. We’re both sneezing and coughing uncontrollably plus feverish chills, but mine’s worse. I get so bad that I lose control of my body so I soil myself, clumps of my hair fall out, and I have hallucinations of shadowy figures. I’m naturally fat but I can’t eat, so my stomach caves in. I drool uncontrollably the time, and I get an earache so bad that I can’t hear anything. Plus, my eyes puff up so much that I can’t see either. Ever been deaf and blind? It’s NOT fun.
I figure I got a bad flu, but it’s never been like this, so I figure I have the flu AND maybe something else. Finally, weeks later, I go the see a doctor, I’ve no insurance but I’m desperate for relief. Over-the-counter medicine does nothing.
I tell the doctor everything, and he runs tests. Flu: negative. Strep throat: negative. Pneumonia: negative.
Doctor: “It must be bronchitis. A mild case of it.”
Me: “A mild case? If this is mild, I don’t want to ever experience a severe case!”
He gave me a prescription for my cough. My sister went, too, and she got a flu diagnosis. She still blames me for giving it to her, even though I told her I didn’t! I lost twenty-five pounds at least.
Assisted Living, California, Doctor/Physician, Extra Stupid, Lazy/Unhelpful, Non-Dialogue, Nurses, USA | Healthy | June 24, 2020
A few years ago, I — a sixty-four-year-old male — had a bad bicycle accident. The damages included a concussion, broken right collarbone, broken right elbow, four broken ribs on my right side, and three fractures in my left pelvis; if you can explain the physics of that, I’m all ears.
Four days in the hospital got me stabilized, but then I needed rehab and was sent to a nursing home. That’s when the fun began.
I was transported to the home at about 6:00 pm. After intake, I struggled for a few hours to find a comfortable position and finally got to sleep, only to be awakened at 11:30 pm (!) to have them take pictures of my bare backside to see if I had bedsores already. Two days later, I was awakened at 4:45 am (!!) because the traveling technician was going to take my blood and wanted to get done early.
I was getting both physical and occupational therapy from the same outsourced company. The routine was to do the PT first at one end of the building and then get wheeled back to my room for the OT. The third day, the occupational therapist was taking me back to my room and one of the physical therapists came with us. The two men were discussing a barbeque they were going to have that weekend.
No problem, except that when we got to my room they stopped in the hallway and talked over me for five minutes. I called out the OT when we were alone; to his credit, he apologized and said that I wasn’t their typical patient, meaning I had no dementia.
I was on a schedule where I was given two assisted showers a week. This wouldn’t have been too bad, except that the home had no air conditioning and we had a heatwave in the nineties the second week. I was waiting for the aide to take me when I noticed five young women hanging around the door to my room. When I asked, they told me they were going to watch my shower as part of their training. I informed them that no, they weren’t, so they waited outside the shower area with my wheelchair.
By that point, I could walk slowly with a cane, so after getting dressed, I limped to my chair with help from the aide. One of the women was standing behind the chair with her hands on the grips. I let go of the cane, grabbed a handrail on the chair, and almost fell on my face as the chair moved out from under me! She hadn’t set the brakes on the wheels and hadn’t held on to the chair. I was lucky there was no damage but it hurt like crazy.
In addition to the therapy for my hip, I needed to wait until the swelling in my broken elbow went down before surgery. When it was ready for the procedure, I went to the hospital having had no food or drink for over twelve hours. I was lying on the gurney about to go into the prep room when I was approached by a young doctor I’d never met. She wanted me to give her permission to perform a “nerve block” on me after the operation. In her telling, this would keep me from feeling pain afterward.
This had not been discussed before, I had no knowledge of what a nerve block entailed, it sounded dangerous, and this person was a total stranger. She was persistent, I’ll give her that, but she finally took the hint when I told her to get the h*** away from me.
The surgery went fine and I had no real discomfort afterward, even to the point where I never filled the prescription for the opioid painkiller I was given. So much for the nerve block. I was not, however, forewarned about another side effect of the anesthesia. It is common that urination is inhibited after the procedure, and by 6:00 pm, I was in real pain.
The nurses’ aides didn’t have the authority to give me a catheter and had to get permission. An hour later, I got my first experience with the process. Then, they took it out. And a few hours later, the pressure built up again.
This time, they didn’t want to put the tube back in; their training said they had to wait four hours. My wife had to yell that she’d take me to the emergency room and file charges against them before they fixed the problem. This time they left it in, and by the following evening, the plumbing worked.
As to the home itself, my stay confirmed my fear of the places, even without a contagion situation. Most of the other long-term residents had some degree of dementia and there was lots of moaning and shouting at all hours. And the food was just as bland as the stereotype; luckily, my wife brought me meals a couple of times a day — including the occasional illicit cold beer.
I got out three days after the elbow surgery and was able to navigate my house, including the stairs, immediately. In another week, I rarely used the cane and have a story for my grandkids.
Employees, England, Jerk, Medical Office, Reception, UK | Working | July 7, 2020
I’ve recently legally changed my name but haven’t quite updated it everywhere as some places require me to physically visit them, and it’s hard to keep track of everywhere.
I’m a university student home for the summer and am made a temporary patient at the local doctors. After my appointment, I notice my name is wrong and go to ask at reception about changing it. There are two receptionists.
Me: “Hey, so, uh, my name legally changed, and I’m wondering if I need to give you guys anything to update it? I have my deed poll here.”
Receptionist #1 : “Let me see. How did you change it?”
Me: “By deed poll; I have it here.” *Holds out the paper*
Receptionist #1 : *Takes the deed poll* “Is this our copy?”
Me: “No, that’s my legal copy. Do you need it?”
[Receptionist #1 ] goes to a cupboard; I assume that’s where a photocopier is or something.
Receptionist #2 : “Wait, you’re a temporary patient. right? You need to update it with your GP up in [University City], not us.”
Me: “Oh, okay, thanks.”
I don’t move as the first receptionist is still holding my deed poll.
Receptionist #1 : “You really need to update your name. Legally, you have to.”
I hold out my hand for the deed poll.
Me: “I know. I just can’t afford to go up to [City] for one day.”
Receptionist #1 : *With a sort of “gotcha” tone* “Then how are you getting back for university? You need to change it; it can cause problems if you don’t.”
Me: “I know.”
Receptionist #2 : *Cutting in* “Their parents are probably helping them move back in; they just can’t go up a random day in summer. Hon, I’ve got it all set on the system. You’re fine. Have a good day.”
[Receptionist #1 ] said nothing and handed me my deed poll.
I thanked the second receptionist and left. I know updating my name is important, but it’s also expensive enough without having to travel just to hand over a piece of paper.
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