(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.)
Arkansas, Dentist, USA | Healthy | November 3, 2017
(I am having a filling in my tooth replaced with a new material.)
Me: “So, doctor, I’ve had problems in the past with Novocain not really working with the standard dose. I may need a slightly larger dose to fully numb the area up.”
Dentist: “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
(I do worry, but I decide maybe he’s using something a little stronger than I’ve been given before. He begins to drill out the current filling and I jump, because I can clearly feel the vibrations, when I know I shouldn’t.)
Me: “No, stop! It’s not numbed!”
Dentist: “No, that’s normal. Don’t worry.”
(He continues to drill, and I can FEEL IT. I squirm and yell and try to smack his arm with my free hand, but he just tells me to be still. He continues on, and for a brief moment, the pain is so intense, everything looks silver. So, I do the only thing I know that will stop him at this point. I bite him, which tears his latex glove.)
Dentist: “What was that for?!”
Me: “PAIN IS F****** SILVER!”
(In the end, I got my larger dose of Novocain to fully numb the area, and a note in my file that I need at least a dose and a half.)
Blood Donation, New Hampshire, USA | Healthy | November 3, 2017
(I am donating blood at a traveling clinic that has come to my college. I have a rather intense needle phobia and like to use donating blood as a way to get over this fear just as much as an opportunity to help others. However, when the needle is in me I become visibly tense and my breathing quickens. Sometimes the nurses worry that I am going to pass out or go into shock, so I always warn them about my fear, assure them that I will NOT pass out, that I’m just anxious, and ask them to count to three before they stick me, which reduces my anxiety. They are usually very understanding of this request.)
Nurse: “Okay, we’re all set now. You’re just going to feel a pinch and a sting.”
Me: “Can you please count before you do it?”
Nurse: *legitimately confused about this request* “Count? Why?”
Me: “I have a bit of a needle phobia. I’m not going to pass out; I just don’t want to be surprised by the needle.”
Nurse: *still with a confused expression* “Okay…”
(She then proceeds to count to three as fast as she can… WHILE she is already sticking me with the needle. Lo and behold, I panic, push myself several inches up in the chair, and feel tears begin to stream from my eyes involuntarily.)
Nurse: “Oh! Well, I didn’t know you were gonna jump up in your chair like that!”
(She leaves to tend to other donors. I begin to calm down, but tears are still streaming down my face as a result of the unpleasant surprise.)
Nurse: *coming back to check on me, notices my face* “Is… is something sad going on in your life right now?”
Me: “Nothing other than the nightmares I’m gonna have tonight…”
(My nurse has just finished filling a basin so that I can take a sponge bath. I sit up to use it, and immediately throw up in the basin. First words out of her mouth
Nurse: “I’m so glad that basin was there.”
(If I wasn’t busy with sudden nausea I’d have laughed myself sick!)
Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, Pennsylvania, USA | Healthy | November 5, 2017
I had some issues with ovarian cysts when I was in high school, so I had to go in for a pelvic ultrasound. In the instructions we received prior the appointment I was told I needed to drink 32 oz of water before coming in so that my bladder would be full, which helps them to get better images. Now, I was 15 and very skinny. I had just gone through a growth spurt and at 5’5″ I weighed in around 100 pounds. I drank the water and immediately had to pee; I looked down, my pelvic area was bulging already. This was 10 minutes after I drank the water, right as we were leaving, and it was a 30 minute drive to the office.
Needless to say, that drive, through a bumpy, uneven construction site, was miserable. I was in such physical pain by the time we got to the doctor that I was in tears sitting in the waiting room. When I finally got called back to the ultrasound room and I lay down on the table, the ultrasound tech gave my visibly full bladder, by this point halfway to a pregnant belly, a bit of a side eye, but continued with her explanation of the procedure. I heard none of this, as all of my energy and focus were tied up in not urinating all over that table.
She begins the ultrasound, poking at the watery skin ball that is my pelvis, until after a few moments she stops. She can’t see anything. There’s too much liquid.
I ask her what to do and she tells me that I need to go to the bathroom (which was luckily adjacent to the exam room) and “pee a little, then stop” so that there would be a good amount of liquid for her. By this point, I have been in intense physical pain because of this full bladder for roughly an hour, so these instructions felt more than a little impossible. But, being a determined kid, I went in there and against all odds, I did it. So the rest of the ultrasound goes off without a hitch, and afterward I am finally able to fully relax my bladder for the first time that day.
As I was getting ready to leave, the technician asked me how much water I had been instructed to drink, and was appalled when I told her 32 oz. She went off about how they should’ve looked at my chart to see my height and weight because they would’ve been able to tell just from that that the amount should’ve been lower, and it was lucky that I was able to control my bladder so well; otherwise, the whole appointment would’ve been a waste.
A few days later my mom gets a call from the doctor’s office and guess what? Turns out the whole appointment was, in fact, a waste, since the notes were wrong in my file and the ultrasound tech performed an abdominal ultrasound instead of a pelvic one. I was less than pleased.
At least I knew not to drink so much water for the next one.
(I work night shift in a hospital lab. On night shift, there are three working at a time with my same job title, which is the highest level of certification in the department, other than our medical director. In all, there are six night shifters with that certification for the entire fairly large specialty hospital, and if we can’t work, we figure it out with one of the three who are off. One night, due to family emergencies, sickness, and a coworker who “wasn’t in the mood to come to work today” (they were fired weeks later), I and one other end up working a night shift. I am filling in unexpectedly, and have just gotten off a flight that morning and haven’t slept in thirty hours by the time morning comes. The other coworker has a fever of 103; we make the executive decision that I’ll do anything requiring patient contact and if his fever goes above 104, we’ll call the ER downstairs. It also turns out to be what we call a “must be a full moon” night. By morning, we’re both almost crying from sheer exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and misery. Come morning, there is an employee appreciation breakfast.)
Day Shifter: “How was the night?”
Me: “I haven’t slept in thirty hours, [Coworker] has a fever of 103, four analyzers broke, the ICU is literally out of beds, they’re tripling up patients into the double rooms in MedSurg, and the ER is using the hallway as overflow for the waiting room.”
Day Shifter: “Well, we were wondering if you two could stay maybe an hour late so all the day shift could go to the breakfast?”
(We told them no way. They weren’t happy. At that point, we didn’t care.)
Arkansas, Dentist, USA | Healthy | November 3, 2017
(I am having a filling in my tooth replaced with a new material.)
Me: “So, doctor, I’ve had problems in the past with Novocain not really working with the standard dose. I may need a slightly larger dose to fully numb the area up.”
Dentist: “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
(I do worry, but I decide maybe he’s using something a little stronger than I’ve been given before. He begins to drill out the current filling and I jump, because I can clearly feel the vibrations, when I know I shouldn’t.)
Me: “No, stop! It’s not numbed!”
Dentist: “No, that’s normal. Don’t worry.”
(He continues to drill, and I can FEEL IT. I squirm and yell and try to smack his arm with my free hand, but he just tells me to be still. He continues on, and for a brief moment, the pain is so intense, everything looks silver. So, I do the only thing I know that will stop him at this point. I bite him, which tears his latex glove.)
Dentist: “What was that for?!”
Me: “PAIN IS F****** SILVER!”
(In the end, I got my larger dose of Novocain to fully numb the area, and a note in my file that I need at least a dose and a half.)
Blood Donation, New Hampshire, USA | Healthy | November 3, 2017
(I am donating blood at a traveling clinic that has come to my college. I have a rather intense needle phobia and like to use donating blood as a way to get over this fear just as much as an opportunity to help others. However, when the needle is in me I become visibly tense and my breathing quickens. Sometimes the nurses worry that I am going to pass out or go into shock, so I always warn them about my fear, assure them that I will NOT pass out, that I’m just anxious, and ask them to count to three before they stick me, which reduces my anxiety. They are usually very understanding of this request.)
Nurse: “Okay, we’re all set now. You’re just going to feel a pinch and a sting.”
Me: “Can you please count before you do it?”
Nurse: *legitimately confused about this request* “Count? Why?”
Me: “I have a bit of a needle phobia. I’m not going to pass out; I just don’t want to be surprised by the needle.”
Nurse: *still with a confused expression* “Okay…”
(She then proceeds to count to three as fast as she can… WHILE she is already sticking me with the needle. Lo and behold, I panic, push myself several inches up in the chair, and feel tears begin to stream from my eyes involuntarily.)
Nurse: “Oh! Well, I didn’t know you were gonna jump up in your chair like that!”
(She leaves to tend to other donors. I begin to calm down, but tears are still streaming down my face as a result of the unpleasant surprise.)
Nurse: *coming back to check on me, notices my face* “Is… is something sad going on in your life right now?”
Me: “Nothing other than the nightmares I’m gonna have tonight…”
(My nurse has just finished filling a basin so that I can take a sponge bath. I sit up to use it, and immediately throw up in the basin. First words out of her mouth
Nurse: “I’m so glad that basin was there.”
(If I wasn’t busy with sudden nausea I’d have laughed myself sick!)
(I live in a small town in the middle of nowhere. There is a small hospital, as well as a holistic health clinic. The answering machine for the holistic health clinic says
Clinic: “You have reached [Clinic]. We are open from [time] to [time]. If it’s an emergency, go to the hospital in [City a little over an hour away]. If you cannot make it to that hospital, go to the hospital in [Smaller City around 40 minutes away]. ONLY IF YOU WILL NOT LIVE to get to that hospital should you go to the local hospital. In that case, good luck… Please leave a message after the beep.”
(The unfortunate thing is they are quite right. While the staff seem nice enough, they have so little practice that they really aren’t any good. I got a small gash in my knee once, and needed stitches. Somehow the remaining scar is now double the size of the original gash. Since then I’ve always made a point to go to a different hospital if I need medical care.)
Connecticut, Dentist, USA | Healthy | November 2, 2017
(I was born with what is called lateral incisors anodontia, which means I am missing lateral incisors, the teeth in my upper jaw on either side of my front teeth. It’s all over my dental records and quite clear from X-rays or just looking inside my mouth that thing’s aren’t quite normal.)
Oral Surgeon: *looking at an X-ray* “The lower wisdom teeth are impacted, so they definitely have to come out. I see the uppers have come through, but we should take those out as well.”
Me: “Are you sure the uppers need to come out? I was born without lateral incisors, so the wisdom teeth came in fine are far enough forward to meet the lower molars.”
Oral Surgeon: *looks in my mouth for a few seconds* “Yes, they still need to come out.”
Me: “Okay, fine. How much will this cost?”
Oral Surgeon: “Extracting the impacted teeth is covered by your insurance, but it will cost $300 to extract the other two.”
(My family and I are royally ticked off about the out of pocket cost, but don’t see any way to avoid it. We decide to pay for the extraction up front and return in a week for the surgery. I choose not to get put under so I am (thankfully) awake and aware when, after the oral surgeon injects Novocaine into the root of an upper wisdom tooth and starts to grip it with a tool, this happens.)
Oral Surgeon: “What the h***? What the f*** is going on here?”
Nurse: “What is it?”
Oral Surgeon: “Are there missing teeth?”
Nurse: “Let me count.”
Me: *through the tools and the drugs* “Yes.” *I reach up and tap where my lateral incisors would be* “These.”
(The nurse and oral surgeon walk a way for a moment to talk. When they come back
Oral Surgeon: “It looks like you are missing your lateral incisors. Your wisdom teeth are far enough forward that they meet your lower molars. There is clear wear on them so you’re obviously using them when you chew. Since they are being used, would you prefer to keep them in?”
Me: “Yes! I told you all this during the consultation.”
(On the plus side I got to keep two wisdom teeth. On the down side, we still had to deal with this office for over a month, since they were very reluctant to give back the money we paid for extractions that never happened despite telling us immediately after surgery that everything would be refunded in full!)
Florida, Hospital, USA | Healthy | November 1, 2017
(My aunt is pregnant with my cousin after years of miscarriages and a stillbirth. She’s at one of her ultrasounds when the doctor notices something weird.)
Doctor: “I think your baby is malformed.”
Aunt: “What are you talking about?”
Doctor: “I mean she isn’t developing properly. She might be born disfigured.”
Aunt: “How bad are we talking? She’s not going to die, is she?”
Doctor: “I can’t tell for certain, but it looks like she’s missing a leg.”
Aunt: “What?! What do you mean my baby is missing a leg?!”
Doctor: “I mean unless it’s hidden somewhere, it’s gone.”
(Over the next few weeks the doctor subtly implied over and over again that she should terminate the pregnancy due to the malformation. She ended up switching doctors when he got fed up and straight up told her to terminate because apparently allowing a child to exist with a deformity was akin to abuse. When she gave birth, my cousin indeed only had one leg. She learned how to walk with a prosthetic at a very young age and is now 23, athletic, and happy, and you wouldn’t know she only had one leg if she didn’t show you her prosthetic. We’re all still horrified that the doctor thought terminating her in the name of “protecting” her was the only course of action, especially after my aunt and uncle had suffered so many previous losses.)
Medical Office, New York, Rude & Risque, USA | Healthy | November 1, 2017
(I am getting X-rays done because I’m going to have a procedure done soon. Beforehand they make you drink this thick gooey liquid that supposedly makes it easier to take the X-rays. Before the doctor comes in, the nurse is asking me some preliminary questions.)
Nurse: “Do you have any difficulty swallowing?”
(Being as immature as I am, I have to try really hard to contain my laughter in order to answer no. Then the doctor comes in
Doctor: “Do you have any difficulty swallowing?”
(I try really hard not to laugh and say no.)
Doctor: “Are you sure? I’m gonna give you this thick liquid to swallow; it’s gonna feel a little slimy as it goes down your throat.”
(I can’t help it and crack up.)
Doctor: “Oooookay, I guess I’m going to have to describe this a different way. You’re the fifth person today that laughs when I explain this process, and that’s not even including the new nurse in training.”
(We have a giant inflatable ghost on display for Halloween. It doesn’t quite sit right and tends to lean to the side, so we frequently adjust it.)
Coworker: “[My name]! The ghost is falling again.”
Me: “Okay…”
(We spend about five minutes fiddling with it, until we get it to sit up right.)
Coworker: “Oh, no. His ascot got flipped backwards.”
(We proceed to grab boxes and stick-like things, trying to flip the ascot back around to no avail.)
Me: “OH! I’ve got it!”
(I run away with no explanation and return with a toy extendable lightsaber. I make the “vwing” noise and I flick it and extend the lightsaber. I succeed in straightening the ghost’s tie on the first attempt.)
Coworker: “…You just fixed the ascot of an inflatable ghost with a lightsaber.”
California, Hospital, Jerk, Marriage & Partners, USA | Healthy | October 31, 2017
(It is Halloween. The hospital staff have put up decorations, but they’re minimal. I’m trying to wheel a patient who is in labor to the room she was assigned, along with her husband.)
Patient’s Husband: “We should put her in the room with the witch hanging over the door.”
Me: “I’m sorry. That room’s actually a different size. I’m supposed to take you to room 79.”
Patient’s Husband: “But that room has a ghost. She wants a witch.”
Me: “The only room we have with that decoration is half the size of this one, and doesn’t have all the same equipment in it. This is the room you paid for.”
Patient’s Husband: “It has to be a witch. She’s been real nasty all week.”
(As she hears her husband say this, the wife is looking less and less pleased. She is a week overdue, and has been in for false labor pains the past two weeks.)
Me: “That’s interesting, but there aren’t any decorations inside the room anyway. What is inside this room is a much wider space for the doctor and nurses to provide her with better care.”
Patient’s Husband: “She wants a witch, so put her in the room with the witch.”
(Finally, the patient has had enough and speaks up.)
Patient: “Shut up. I want to get this kid out in whatever room the people who know what they’re doing think is best, you dumb troll!”
(During Halloween at my clinic, my boss allows us to dress up a little. Being a Star Trek fan, I wear a Starfleet medical uniform and download a Star Trek soundboard app on my phone.)
Patient: “Hello, sir, I am [name] and I’m here to see Dr. [name].”
Me: “Oh, yes, I have you here right on time. Just have a seat and we’ll call you soon.”
Patient: “Well, while you’re here, I don’t suppose you can scan me with your tricorder to see?”
Me: “Well, if you want me to!”
(I open my soundboard and start playing the tricorder sound as I start scanning him.)
Patient: “Hahaha! Oh, my god! I am laughing so hard, my chest is hurting!”
Coworker: “[My name], you’re such a nerd.”
Me: “I believe that goes with the uniform I’m wearing.”
Australia, Hospital, Language & Words | Healthy | October 30, 2017
(Making bookings for patients is very easy. All I need is name, phone, modality, body part, and doctor name. I’ve been on the phone for a few minutes, the patient telling me a rather detailed explanation why she needs a scan of her back, yet not telling me anything I need to know. I’m polite, 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 your form your doctor gave you, did they write X.R., C.T. or U.S. anywhere?”
anguMe: “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].”
Me: *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* “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 it’s invalid. You’d need to go to the doctors and get him to write you a referral.”
Patient: “It’s here!” *she’s now livid* ‘No! No. No. It says here!”
Me: “I’m sorry?”
Patient: “It says X.R. spline—” *yes, s.p.l.i.n.e.* “—Lubosac; my back!”
(I gathered it was an x-ray lumbosacral spine, but don’t you just love how information materialises?)
Health & Body, Office, Text/Chat/Email, UK | Healthy | October 30, 2017
(I work for the safety department overseeing several sites that my company is working on. I mainly focus on radiation exposure. We receive daily reports of exposure for all men working in radioactive areas with personal dosimeters that record in real time. Each site has one person who collates the information before passing it on. One site has recently had to employ a new person. He has sent the information through and I notice a problem. I reply to his email.)
Me: “[Person], is this information correct?”
Person: “Yes. It is correct.”
Me: “Okay. I thought I would check as many of your workers have far exceeded the legal limit in just one day. Has there been an incident?”
Person: “No. No incident. The information is correct. I have checked with dosimetry on site, and they confirm.”
(I don’t believe him, so I email the safety manager on site just to double check, but he doesn’t respond. I decide to pry further.)
Me: “[Person], can I assume that the workers have been sent home with pay? I will need to report this.”
Person: “No. They’re still working. I won’t be able to reach them until they finish.”
Me: “Well, you’re going to have to. They have far exceeded the legal limit for a year’s worth of exposure. As per policy, this will have to be reported and they will need to be monitored. Can you please check with [Safety Manager]?”
Person: “It’s just one Sievert! And no, [Safety Manager] is in a meeting.”
Me: “[Person], a Sievert is a large dose. We work in micro and millisieverts. Are you absolutely certain this information is correct?”
Person: “The information IS correct. That is the end of it!”
(I was even less convinced and spoke to my manager. He contacted the site manager and it was decided that the workers be sent home and everyone pulled off until the matter was resolved. It turned out no one there thought it necessary to train the new person, despite him having no experience with ionising radiation. The workers were only exposed to a few microseiverts and they were allowed to return to work. This incident reflected so badly on us it risked our contract with the site, and the manager, safety manager, and the new person were relocated. I got landed with the new person, and he’s made it his life goal to make my life miserable, as payment for his and his managers’ mistake.)
Australia, Car, Health & Body, New South Wales, Parents/Guardians | Healthy | October 30, 2017
(I have a day off so I wasn’t planning on doing much other than sleeping in. At about 9:30 am I get a call from my dad.)
Dad: “Hey, sweetie, are you doing anything at the moment?”
Me: *lying in bed* “No, not anything important. Whats up?”
Dad: “The coolant hose has come loose on the car again. Could I get you to come pick me up to get some more coolant?”
Me: “Yeah, sure, no problem.”
(I go and get him, chatting about inconsequential things, asking about each others’ weekends. We get the coolant and we are heading back to his car. This happens about half an hour after I pick him up.)
Dad: “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling that great this morning… About an hour ago I started getting chest pain and was thinking I should go to the hospital, but I’m feeling okay now so maybe I should just go home.”
Me: *being sceptical in my head* “Nah, if you were worried, Dad, I’d go up there. I will go with you if you’d like. I’ll stay with you. It can get kinda boring up there by yourself.”
Dad: “Oh, well, only if you’re not doing anything. It might be a good idea.”
Me: “Sure thing; it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Dad: “Only if you’re sure you’re not doing anything
Me: “I’m sure; I will meet you up there.”
(I follow him up only to find a parking space at the bottom of the hill, so we walk up to the top and get admitted into ED. Long story short, Dad had had a minor heart attack, three in fact, the last one as we were walking up the hill, and he just wanted to go home. I spent five hours with him, him asking me not to tell any family members because he didn’t want to stress them out. Mum nearly had a heart attack herself when she found out, mainly because he waited five hours to tell her! Please, please, people — get it checked out sooner rather than later!)
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