(An order comes to my pharmacy for a well-known antibiotic. This antibiotic is known to smell exactly like rotten eggs, so most of us just hold our breath while we count it and try not to think about it too much. We dispense it to a woman who is picking it up for her teenage son. Everything is normal and she leaves with the prescription, but about 10 minutes later she comes stomping back into the pharmacy, pretty much shoves the person that I am currently helping out of the way, and throws the bottle of medication on the counter.)
Customer: “I want to speak to your manager right now! You guys gave me rotten medication!”
Me: “Really? Let me look at the expiration date on your bottle. Normally we don’t keep anything that has one less than a year away.”
(I look at the bottle and see that the pharmacist wrote a date of over a year away, and I go over to our stock bottle and check and the numbers correspond with each other.)
Me: “Hmm. Well, ma’am, it doesn’t look like this medication is expired but I will have the phar—”
Customer: “You are just lying! I mean, come on and open that bottle! It smells totally rotten! I can’t believe that you would ever give someone bad medication! My son is very very ill!”
Me: “Oh, that’s just because the active chemical that is in this medication has a bad smell. Trust me, I wish there was something that we could do about it back here, too. Most of us hold our breath while we count it.”
Customer: “Stop ****** lying to me. You just don’t want to admit you did something wrong! I will have your job for this, b****!
(At this point the pharmacist who has been listening the whole time walks over.)
Pharmacist: “Ma’am, while I don’t like the fact that you are calling my staff names like that I will let you know two things. One is, certain chemicals have a bad smell. It’s just a fact of life. So, while I know that smell is unpleasant, it’s just one of those side effects that come with being able to take medications that will help your sick son. I assure you it’s supposed to smell that bad. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t work right. Two, since you don’t seem to want to listen to my employees and call them awful names, this will be the last time that you or any members of your family can shop or fill any type of medication here. Maybe in the future you can learn how to treat people the way you want to be treated.”
(The woman proceeded to turn bright red with embarrassment and tried to apologize, but my boss wouldn’t hear it. That was almost two years ago and he still will not allow her or her family to fill their prescriptions at his pharmacy.)
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.”
Australia, Extra Stupid, Hospital, Patients | 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.”
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.)
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].”
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].”
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.”
Australia, Extra Stupid, Hospital, Patients | 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.”
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.)
Arkansas, Coworkers, Elementary 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.”
Crazy Requests, 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.)
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.)
England, Extra Stupid, Hospital, Lazy/Unhelpful, London, Non-Dialogue, 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…
Extra Stupid, Food & Drink, home, Madison, Patients, Roommates, 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!)
Doctor/Physician, England, Hospital, Nurses, Silly, UK | Healthy | January 29, 2019
(I have cancer and am at the hospital for a session of chemotherapy. Before I can have the treatment, I have to have blood taken and see the oncologist to make sure that I am healthy enough to take the chemo. A nurse weighs me whilst I am waiting for my consultation, and I am finally called in. The doctor asks how I’m doing, tells me my blood work was fine, and checks my weight with the nurse. She gives him the info, and he drops this gem.)
Oncologist: “Is that weight whilst fully clothed?”
Bad Behavior, California, Dentist, USA | Healthy | January 28, 2019
(I’m on Medicaid since I’m working at an unfunded startup and don’t have any income — I got a sizable equity stake to compensate — nor does the company offer any insurance. I haven’t been to the dentist in a couple of years since my previous job’s dental coverage expired, and I’ve finally overcome my laziness to find a new one. There are only a few dentists in the area I have moved to in the interim who take Medicaid; I look them up on Yelp just to get a general idea of people’s experiences, and pick the one that had the best reviews.)
Dentist: “Your front top and bottom teeth are clicking against each other, when the top ones should be in front of the bottoms. This is causing your bottom teeth to be pushed out of alignment and is producing some gum recession.”
(This seems reasonable, and I have noticed that the gums around my front bottom teeth are thinning a bit.)
Dentist: “This is a serious problem that you should address immediately. You should set up an appointment as soon as possible for us to get you on [Name-Brand Clear-Aligner Orthodontic Treatment].”
(Denti-Cal, California’s Medicaid dental coverage, isn’t that comprehensive; I doubt they’ll cover a multi-thousand-dollar orthodontic treatment for an adult, and I don’t have that kind of out-of-pocket money at the moment. Also, while this dentist does apparently do both dentistry and orthodontics, from childhood I’m used to seeing a separate orthodontist.)
Me: “Thanks for letting me know, but I don’t want to do that procedure at this time.”
Dentist: “You need a deep cleaning since it’s been so long since your last cleaning.” *shows me x-rays* “If we just did a regular cleaning, we might not get all of this plaque that’s built up under the gum line. I don’t see any infection, but a long-term plaque buildup could lead to one.”
(This also seems reasonable, since it has been a couple of years, and the last time I went that long between cleanings I also needed a deep cleaning. At the time this takes place Denti-Cal doesn’t cover deep cleanings, so I have to cover the $400 charge out of pocket, but figure that’s my burden for waiting so long. Wanting a second opinion on the tooth-alignment issue, I schedule to see my childhood orthodontist when I’m home seeing my parents a few months later. I haven’t seen him in at least a decade, and there’s no chance of him getting any business from me since he’s on the opposite coast.)
Orthodontist: “Your teeth have shifted a fair amount since we last saw you. No, that clicking isn’t ideal, but the gum issues aren’t that bad and aren’t an immediate concern. You should probably address it in the next few years, but I’d recommend seeing someone who only does orthodontics, not a dentist who does orthodontics on the side.”
(Maybe there’s some professional snobbery involved with that last comment, but I’m more focused on the so-called “immediate issue” not being that much of an emergency, which I had suspected. At the next dentist appointment
Hygienist: “You know, your teeth are rather discolored. I think you should have us do a whitening procedure!”
Me: “My teeth aren’t that bad, and I’m not that concerned about my appearance. Also, in case you weren’t aware, I’m on Denti-Cal, which I’m pretty sure wouldn’t cover that, and which means I don’t really have hundreds or thousands of dollars to spare on a cosmetic procedure. So, no, I won’t be doing that.”
(Ten minutes later
Hygienist: “I really do think you’d look so much better if you got your teeth whitened! We’d do a really good job of it!”
Me: “I already said I both didn’t want to and couldn’t afford that.”
Hygienist: “Okay. Well, the dentist recommends you get a gum irrigation while you’re here, for the infection.”
Me: “What infection?! When I was here last time I was told I didn’t have any, and that I should do a deep cleaning to avoid any notable chance of one.”
Hygienist: “Well, no, you don’t have an infection, but the irrigation would further ensure you don’t get one.”
Me: “I was told last time that a deep cleaning was sufficient, and it seems that it was. I don’t like the insinuation that I have a problem when there’s not actually a problem. If I don’t have an infection, this sounds like an unnecessary procedure, and I’m not paying for it.”
(The hygienist finishes my regular cleaning.)
Hygienist: “Are you sure you don’t want your teeth whitened?”
Me: “No. I do not. Want. My teeth. Whitened. I said that twice already in no uncertain terms. Don’t ask me again.”
(The dentist comes in for the post-cleaning check.)
Dentist: “So, when do you want us to remove your wisdom teeth?”
Me: “Is there something wrong with them?! They came in several years ago, there’s enough room in my jaw for them, and I haven’t had any issues with them to date.”
Dentist: “No, but many of my patients get them removed just to avoid any complications.”
Me: “I’m currently 28. My dad didn’t have his removed until his 50s, and that was in response to some tangible problems he was having. I’m on Denti-Cal, and this probably isn’t covered. I’m not paying that kind of money right now to possibly avoid some problem that may never crop up, or may not crop up for decades. Please stop trying to sell me a bunch of unnecessary procedures, especially when you should know, from my insurance, that I probably don’t have much money to fritter away on things I don’t absolutely need.”
(I am rather annoyed by this whole ordeal, but I make an appointment for six months later since they at least seemed to do a capable job of cleaning my teeth. My usual inertia about switching dentists leads me to not find another one in the interim, so I go back. The cleaning is shorter than usual, possibly since I’ve started using a water flosser in addition to brushing.)
Dentist: “You know, that under-bite hasn’t gotten any better. You should really get [Clear Orthodontics Product].”
Me: “I’m still on Denti-Cal. It’s still not covered as far as I know, and I’m still not in a position to afford that. If and when I do decide to fix the problem, I will see a full-time orthodontist.”
Dentist: “All right, then. Next time you come in, you should do a deep cleaning, because I see some noticeable plaque buildup under your gums.”
Me: “I’ve been using a water flosser for several months now. You showed me the x-rays you took before the cleaning and there were maybe two tiny spots of plaque under all of my teeth put together. While Denti-Cal now covers deep cleanings, I’m not going to do that when there’s absolutely no reason to. I’m sick and tired of being pressured and cajoled into all manner of questionably necessary, or flat-out unnecessary, procedures. No other dentist I’ve ever been to has ever behaved like this. I’m not coming back.”
(I actually didn’t come back this time, and when they called me six months later to remind me of my next appointment, I told them again that I was never setting foot in their door.)
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