Health Care stories

Crown This Lady “Worst Patient Of The Day”
Bad Behavior, Dentist, Instant Karma, Patients, Reddit | Healthy | CREDIT: EWhiskeyM | July 13, 2021
I’m a dental assistant for a private practice. Most of our patients are wonderful people — friendly, happy to see us, respectful of our professional opinions and recommendations, etc. But today, I had the most entitled jerk in for what should have been a simple appointment.

When we do crowns — or caps, as some people know them as — we prep the tooth beforehand and take an impression. Then, that impression goes to a lab and the techs there make the crown. It takes two or three weeks for them to send the crown back.

When we deliver the crown to the patient, the doctor and I try the crown in first to see how it fits. It is VERY rare that it fits perfectly. We almost always have to make some adjustments — shaving down the crown here and there, checking the space between the teeth, checking the bite, etc. All of this is standard. The main thing we use is called “articulating paper”. When the patient bites down on it, we can see heavy blue markings where the bite needs adjusting. The more we adjust, the lighter those marks get, and it even stops marking altogether sometimes.

Most exchanges with the patient are like this.

Us: “How’s it feel?”

Patient: “It’s a little high.”

Us: “Okay, we’ll adjust that.”

We use the articulating paper and then grind the crown down a little.

Us: “How’s it feel now?”

Patient: “Oh, that feels much better.”

Us: “Okay, cool. Let’s cement it in.”

This takes maybe five minutes AT MOST. This lady we had tonight was having none of it.

Us: “How’s it feel?”

Lady: “Ugh, it’s way off.”

Us: “Okay, we’ll adjust it. How’s it feel now?”

Lady: “The same.”

Us: “Umm, really? No change?”

Lady: “The same.”

Us: “Okay, no biggie. Let’s adjust more.”

Over and over, she kept insisting that it was exactly the same, no change, even though the marks were gone at this point, meaning that her other teeth were no longer even touching the crown.

At this point, we had a couple of options that the doctor presented to her.

Doctor: “I can keep adjusting the crown. The only issue is that if I keep reducing the porcelain on top, the metal underneath might end up showing. Are you okay with that?”

Lady: “No.”

Doctor: “Okay. Well then, I need to make a small adjustment to the tooth above this one so that they don’t touch. It’s very superficial.”

Lady: “No! Don’t touch my other teeth!”

Doctor: “We do this all the time, ma’am. It doesn’t harm the teeth. We’re basically just polishing it.”

Lady: “No! That’s a lie! If you guys did it correctly the first time, you wouldn’t have to adjust it at all!”

Doctor: “Ma’am, we do this for everyone. The lab almost never makes them perfect. We either have to adjust the crown itself or the opposing teeth.”

Lady: “No, you screwed up.”

Doctor: “We have to adjust one or the other, so which would you prefer? Do you want metal showing?”

Lady: “No!”

Me: “So we can polish the opposing tooth?”

Lady: “No!”

Me: “It’ll literally take a few seconds.”

Lady: “No, you’re lying! It’s gonna harm my teeth!”

The doctor suggests getting our office manager to talk to the patient. Our office manager is an awesome lady. She’s old — two years away from retirement — and doesn’t give a f*** anymore. I tell her the situation and she laughs.

Office Manager: “Okay, let’s make her wait another month. I don’t give a s***.”

I laugh as she marches right in there.

Office Manager: “Okay, ma’am. Since you don’t want this crown, we’ll send it back to the lab and have them redo it.”

So, instead of just waiting the sixty seconds for us to adjust, she now had to wait three weeks to come in again. And that was just to RE-PREP the tooth. Then, she had to wait another three weeks for the crown to come back from the lab, again.

She had every right to request that the crown be redone. That’s not my issue. My issue is that she accused us of lying, screamed at us, wouldn’t tell us why it felt “exactly the same,” and didn’t want any solutions we offered.

They’ve Got This Pain Management Thing DOWN
Bizarre, Medical Office, Michigan, Patients, USA | Healthy | June 29, 2021
I work in a pain management medical office. We always ask the pain level our patients are experiencing when they come in.

Me: “And what is your pain level today on a scale of zero to ten, zero being no pain and ten being the worst pain you’ve ever experienced?”

Patient: “Oh, a ten.”

Me: “Really? Worse than childbirth, kidney stones, getting hit by a bus?”

Patient: “Yep.”

And then they went back to sitting comfortably in their chair and playing happily on their phone.

Paying Your Bills Should Be A Priority, But… Yikes
Billing, Hospital, Iowa, Non-Dialogue, Patients, USA | Healthy | June 28, 2021
I work in the accounts billable department of one of the two major hospitals in Iowa City. It’s my job, essentially, to explain to clients why the amount they have been billed isn’t what they expected.

I’m the low peon on the totem pole, being the newest hire. That means I get to deal with the clients face to face across the billing counter.

One lady is yelling at me about her bill, when suddenly she makes a very strange, strangled sound. I figure she’s having some sort of medical event, so I immediately press the emergency medical event call button.

This turns out to be a very good idea. The lady is wearing a fairly short-skirted pantsuit, so I can see her legs. Specifically, I can see the stitches on her right leg coming undone. First, the top stitch pops, then the next one, and then the next, faster and faster until she’s got an open gash from her garters to her ankles.

Despite this, and despite her collapsing almost immediately like a puppet with her strings cut, the client continues to weakly try to discuss her billing with me, even as the orderlies pick her up and transfer her to a stretcher to carry her right back into surgery.

Still in shock from this whole affair, I stare at the massive puddle of blood in the middle of the floor, and I make the mistake of asking my coworker who’s responsible for cleaning it up.

Turned out it was me.

Find A Job You Love
Awesome, Funny, Laboratory, Medical Office, Patients, Pennsylvania, USA | Healthy | June 23, 2021
I am working as a phlebotomist at a labcorp. That means I’m the guy that draws your blood whenever you need it done for some sort of test. The latest person I’m drawing blood from is polite with a decent sense of humor and doesn’t freak out at the idea of having blood drawn, so generally, I consider him a decent customer.

Me: “Apply pressure here, please.”

Patient: “Okay. I guess you’re almost done with me, huh?”

Me: “Just about.”

Patient: “Lucky you. Most people agree five minutes of dealing with me is about the most anyone should have to endure.”

Me: “Oh, that’s not fair. I didn’t mind drawing for you at all.”

Patient: “I guess I can understand that. I mean, most people I meet end up wanting to stab me, but you’re one of the few that actually gets to do it! Must be very therapeutic, huh?”

Me: “Yep, stabbing people for fun and profit — what’s not to love about this job?”

Patient: “That’s the spirit! Have a good day now. Enjoy making people bleed.”

Me: “Oh, I will, I promise.”

Not Healthy, Not Working, And So Not Okay
Bosses & Owners, Doctor/Physician, Medical Office, Patients, USA | Healthy | June 19, 2021
My family has a history of anxiety, depression, and OCD. I have had anxiety my entire life and it seems to have manifested as early as three years old, but I’ve never really needed medication for it as I coped with meditation and therapy. I had some slight OCD tendencies but compared to my sister and grandmother I never really thought I had it because it wasn’t “that bad”.

I also developed PTSD during the global health crisis because my boss at the time isolated me and wouldn’t let me speak to any of my coworkers and generally refused to let me do my job while screaming at me for two to four hours a day about how we need to do our jobs. Basically, she threatened me with my job during a global health crisis, while going out of her way to make it so I couldn’t do my job, to cover up her own inadequacies.

After experiencing symptoms six months later, I finally go to a psychiatrist, who diagnoses me. I later go to see a doctor, as being stressed out for so long can affect your physical health and I want to get fully better.

General Practitioner: “So, any new medication since we last spoke?”

Me: “Actually, yes, I am on 20 mg of fluoxetine.”

General Practitioner: “What are you taking it for?”

Me: “Anxiety… and depression… and OCD… and PTSD.”

General Practitioner: “…”

Me: “It is a h*** of a drug.”

“Ignore It Until It Goes Away” Doesn’t Work With Everything
Health & Body, Home, Hospital, Indonesia, Patients | Healthy | June 17, 2021
I have mild chronic gastritis. I also have a slight deformation on my hip so I often feel pain in my lower back and hip. The pain I feel from those two conditions can be bad, but thankfully not often. I also have a high pain threshold because of them.

One day in late November, I started feeling discomfort in my stomach but I couldn’t really pinpoint where exactly. I disregarded it as just one of my two issues, so I started taking my usual medicine and kept an eye on my diet. The pain came and went for a full month. I didn’t really think about it since I was busy with a project and I had already bought a concert ticket. Project ended, concert attended, and the pain still lingered.

Finally, on New Year’s Eve, the pain was unbearable, so I told my sister who’s a doctor. She came by and did a quick check.

Sister: “Pack your bag, and I’ll call our parents to take you to the ER.”

It turned out that I had a swollen appendix. It was only hours away from rupturing. I ended up having to watch the New Year’s Eve fireworks through a hospital window, with an IV drip and some stitches on my tummy.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a reminder to never ignore any pain you feel in your body.

You Got Grass Growing On Your Roof? Part 2
Bizarre, Funny, Hospital, Minnesota, Patients, USA | Healthy | June 15, 2021
My aunt is home alone while my uncle is at work. She decides to mow the lawn, gets distracted, and gets into an accident. She suffers multiple broken bones and a minor concussion but is able to crawl into the house, reach the telephone, and dial 911 to request an ambulance. She gets wheeled into the emergency room and the doctor enters.

Doctor: “Hello, [Aunt], can you tell me what happened?”

Aunt: “I was mowing the lawn and fell off the roof.”

Doctor: “Umm… I’m sorry, what was that?”

Aunt: “I was mowing the lawn, and I fell off the roof onto the driveway.”

Doctor: “How… Okay. What roof were you on?”

Aunt: “The house.”

Doctor: “Hmm. And what were you doing on the roof?”

Aunt: “Mowing the lawn.”

Doctor: “Okay, [Aunt]. I think we’ll start prepping for surgery now.”

My uncle makes it to the hospital while my aunt is in surgery, and the doctor comes out to update him.

Doctor: “[Aunt] is doing well. She has suffered a broken back, multiple broken ribs, a cracked pelvis, and a few broken bones in her legs. She also has a concussion. Fortunately, none of her internal organs seem to be damaged, and her spinal cord has not been damaged. She may have a permanent limp or similar mobility challenges, but I believe she will otherwise make a full recovery with enough time.”

Uncle: “Thank you.”

Doctor: “I do have to ask one thing, though. I’m not sure exactly what happened that caused these injuries. [Aunt] tried to explain, but I think she was confused because of the concussion. Do you have any idea what might have happened?”

Uncle: “What did she say?”

Doctor: “She said she… Well, she said she fell off the roof while mowing the lawn.”

Uncle: *To himself* “Oh, so that’s why the lawn mower was in the driveway.”

Doctor: “Umm, [Uncle]?”

Uncle: “Well, she’s not wrong. We built our house into the side of a hill. We dug out the front of the hill and built a frame to keep the hill from collapsing. Then we built a house within the frame. The top and the other sides of the hill weren’t touched except for clearing some trees, so there’s still grass growing over the hill. We use a riding lawn mower to mow the lawn, which includes the hill that we dug out. [Aunt] must have been mowing the hill — which is basically our roof — and got distracted or something broke on the lawn mower, and she drove off the edge of the hill. I’ll bring in a picture of our house tomorrow to give you a better idea.”

The next day, my uncle did bring in a picture of the house, and the doctor was finally able to understand what my aunt meant when she said she was mowing the lawn and fell off the roof.

And now for the happy ending: my aunt did make a full recovery, with only a slight limp today. However, she has been banned from mowing the lawn ever since!

Make It Up To Her Or Face Her Withering Stare
Golden Years, Grandparents, Nurses, Nursing Home, Patients, The Netherlands | Healthy | May 17, 2021
My grandmother always liked to look nice; she liked to regularly get her hair and nails done and preferred to spend a little extra on stylish clothes. She also almost always wore makeup — just a little colour to liven up her face a bit. She still did this when she was past ninety and had to move to a nursing home.

The move was not caused by diminishing mental faculties — she remained sharp as a tack until the day she died — but she had become wheelchair-bound after a nasty fall and her physical health had already been deteriorating. The home she moved into was very nice, but apparently, some of the staff were not used to elderly ladies paying as much attention to their looks as my grandmother did.

I was visiting Grandma when a young nurse came in to help her with her eyedrops. Her face took on a look of pure astonishment.

Nurse: “Why, Mrs. [Grandma], are you really wearing lipstick?”

Grandma must have been rather irritated at the tone and the apparent implication that elderly women wearing lipstick is something to marvel at, because her reply was rather indignant.

Grandma: “Yes, I am. I might be old, but I’m not withered!”

After the flustered nurse left, I nearly rolled off the couch with laughter. “I might be old, but I’m not withered” has since become a family favourite; whenever an older relative gets a comment along the lines of “Looking good for your age,” they fire off Grandma’s response. Everyone in the know then immediately bursts into laughter and starts reminiscing about dear Grandma.

Not Seeing Eye To Eye, Part 5
Jerk, Ohio, Optometrist/Optician, Patients, Stupid, USA | Healthy | May 10, 2021
I’m a technician at a local eye clinic. I call back a new patient. I get his history and find out he’s diabetic and uses scleral lenses — the kind that covers the entire eye. Diabetes can wreak havoc on the eyes if not controlled.

Me: “What brings you here?”

Patient: “I’ve had pain in both my eyes the past two weeks.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I see you wear sclerals. How long have you been using them?”

Patient: “Oh, these are about ten years old. They’re in great shape!”

Me: “Oooookay? How long per day do you wear them?”

Patient: “Oh, I don’t take ‘em out! They’re so comfortable and I forget they’re there!”

My eyes instantly start to hurt for him, but I continue.

Me: “So… how long have these been in your eye?”

Patient: “About two months!”

Me: “So, you haven’t cleaned them or taken them out of your eye in two months?!”

Patient: “Nope. It’s not my contacts that are bothering me, though. My eyes just hurt.”

Me: “Okay… and you’re diabetic, correct? What’s your blood sugar usually run?”

Patient: “I don’t know; I rarely check. Like 400 something?”

I’m almost speechless but I continue.

Me: “Well, we need to take the contacts out so the doctor can look at your eye.”

Patient: “Do we have to? Taking them out will make my eyes hurt more.”

Me: “Yes. Yes, we do.”

The patient takes his lenses out. They are covered with dirt and build-up to where the lens is a milky grey color rather than clear. I look at the patient’s eyes and they are beet red and swollen. Finally, the doctor comes in after I tell him what’s going on.

Doctor: “Let’s take a look.”

After examining the patient, the doctor can see two huge corneal ulcers exacerbated by uncontrolled diabetes from extended lens wear causing the pain. The doctor explains that these are serious and can lead to permanent scarring which can be irreversible.

Doctor: “These are serious. You need to keep your lenses out to let the eyes heal.”

Patient: “No.”

Doctor: “No?”

Patient: “I’m gonna keep wearing my lenses.”

Doctor: “You really shouldn’t. If this infection doesn’t heal, you can be left with scars or could possibly develop into something much worse and lose the eye.”

Patient: “I don’t care. Give me my lenses.”

Doctor: “My tech has them. She’s finishing cleaning them for you.”

Patient: “Why in the h*** would you clean them?! They were fine!”

Doctor: “Sir, I can’t let you wear these in good conscience knowing it’ll make the problem worse.”

Patient: “F*** y’all! I’m going somewhere else where they know what they’re talking about. These contacts didn’t do anything to my eyes!”

He left with his contacts. We thoroughly documented the encounter and went on about our business.

A month later, he came back threatening to sue our company because he claimed we told him he could continue his lens use and never gave him any treatment for his condition — he left before we could — and now he had a pretty significant corneal scar in both eyes and would require a transplant. My doctor simply printed out the exam notes for him and told him he’d love to see him try. Harsh on my doctor’s part maybe, but don’t fight the people trying to help you!

Doctors Follow The Same Old Tired Formula
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | November 6, 2018
(I give birth to my son, and through some great support from my local breastfeeding support group, I’m able to successfully breastfeed him without supplementing with formula. When he is eight months old, I visit the paediatrician for a check-up.)

Doctor: “What formula does he have?”

Me: “He is breastfed.”

Doctor: “What milk does he have?”

Me: “Breast milk.”

Doctor: *sighing irritably* “WHAT FORMULA DOES HE HAVE?”

Me: *confused* “He doesn’t drink formula; he is breastfed.”

Doctor: “Okay, okay. What follow-on milk does he have?”

Me: “He doesn’t; he drinks breast-milk.”

Doctor: *glares at me as if I’m being difficult* “What… yogurt-y drinks does he have?”

Me: “HE… IS… EXCLUSIVELY… BREASTFED!”

(The doctor slammed the notes shut with irritation, and then blinked at me when he realised my son had been feeding this whole time!)

Not Ball-Bustingly Funny, But It’ll Do
Doctor/Physician, England, Hospital, Patients, Punny, Silly, UK | Healthy | November 1, 2018
(I have been diagnosed with testicular cancer and will have to have one of my testicles removed. I am meeting with the consultant who has run a few tests and has now given me the date of the surgery: the following Monday. It has been a bit of a bureaucratic nightmare to get this point.)

Consultant: “And I’m sorry again that it has taken so long to get to this point, but now that we’ve got the ball rolling—”

Me: *grinning* “Pun intended?”

(The consultant realised what he said, and both he and the nurse laughed. Later he told me he’d had other cancer patients that day who had — understandably — been very upset, and it was nice to see someone dealing with it with humour. The surgery has gone well and I’m making a good recovery!)

Our Deepest Condolences
Atlanta, Children, Georgia, Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Patients, USA | Healthy | October 29, 2018
I have been a part of the Not Always Right community for a few years now. This past year, three of my submitted stories have been published: “With A Mother Like That, Pain Tolerance Is Through The Roof,” “Already Has A Big Baby To Look After,” and “Not The Formula For A Successful Doctor.” For those that aren’t familiar, I went into labor at 29 weeks, and gave birth to a beautiful little girl.

My daughter spent 70 days in the NICU. She was released to come home mid-September, with no extra care other than a multivitamin. She was happy, healthy, and so fiercely loved.

After a month of being home, I woke up at about six in the morning with a sinking feeling. I immediately checked on her in her crib, and she was gasping, struggling to breathe. I woke up my partner, and we were going to rush her to the urgent care down the road. As I was getting in the car with her, she stopped breathing completely and went limp. Her father began performing CPR as the NICU had taught us. I called 911.

A firetruck and couple of cops arrived, and paramedics got out and took over. My partner and I were pulled away and gave statements. After a few minutes, an ambulance showed up, and my baby was loaded in and taken away. One of the paramedics offered me a ride to the hospital, and I took it.

When I arrived at the same hospital where she was born, they had managed to restart her heart. They allowed me to watch and touch her while they hooked her up to machinery, and another nurse kept her breathing with a squeeze bag.

They flew my daughter to Children’s Health Care, one of the best hospitals in the nation; think Ronald McDonald house.

My partner picked me up from the local hospital, and we drove an hour to see her at Children’s. We waited for three hours before a couple of doctors pulled us away into a private room.

They told us that she was stable; however, CPR had been performed for more than 20 minutes before she came back. Without oxygen to the brain for three or four minutes, brain cells begin to die and swell. Our daughter was unresponsive, and the doctor predicted that her heart would stop again, and told us that the merciful thing would be to refuse resuscitation. He gave it a day, maybe hours. We asked for resuscitation, anyway; if there was any chance at all, we’d take it.

My daughter made it through the day, and even through the night. Her heart was beating, but she was on max medication, and a ventilator was breathing for her. She was still unresponsive, but the nurses continued to take care of her — and us. We spent the night on the couch in her room. The nurses were absolutely wonderful.

The next morning, the doctor sat down with us and stated that he believed our 14-week-old baby’s brain was non-functional; she was brain dead.

Later that afternoon, he performed what is called a brain dead test, basically dotting Is and crossing Ts on paperwork. While still supplying oxygen, they turned off the ventilator to watch for a breath; her brain should have sent this signal. Ten minutes went by. She didn’t breathe.

At this point, she couldn’t tolerate the test, and they tried to turn the ventilator back on. Her vitals were too out of whack.

Three months after she entered this world so suddenly, she passed away peacefully in our arms.

We are so thankful to every nurse and paramedic, and everyone that helped to take care of our little girl — and us — through this impossible ordeal. These people are angels sent from heaven. My baby girl will never be forgotten.

We love you, River Madeline. You will always be in our hearts.

Is There A Prescription For Stupidity?
Connecticut, Health & Body, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy Right | October 29, 2018
(I’m a pharmacy tech at a chain pharmacy. I’m working the drive-thru. A truck pulls up blaring loud metal music, and the driver is smoking. He does not turn down the music like most people do when at the window, and I’m having a hard time hearing him.)

Customer: “I’m trying to get one prescription. I need the [Brand Antibiotic], but NOT the–” *indecipherable due to the music*

Me: “I’m sorry, which one do you want?”

Customer: *a little louder* “The [Brand Antibiotic].”

(I take down his information into the computer. I have to re-ask several times because of the music, which he still hasn’t turned down. He’s also still smoking, and flicking ash out of the window, ON MY SIDE.)

Me: “There’s only one prescription here.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: *louder* There’s only one prescription.”

Customer: “Is it the [Brand Antibiotic]?”

Me: *still loud* “I will check with the pharmacist.”

(I grab the script, which is NOT an antibiotic. I’ve shut the window to keep the smoke from getting in; the music is loud enough to be heard on the other end of the pharmacy. The pharmacist confirms this is not an antibiotic, but is a specially requested one he’d been calling to transfer over from a different pharmacy.)

Me: “Sir, this is the only one we have.”

(I show him the prescription, so he can see what it is.)

Customer: “Ok, I’ll take it.”

(I finish up the transaction; he pays and drives away. About ten minutes later, he’s back in my lane, blaring the same loud music.)

Customer: “This isn’t the one I requested. I specifically told you NOT to give me this prescription. Where’s the one that the doctor transferred over?”

Me: “This is the only one that was called in.”

Customer: “I’m not taking this prescription anymore. Why was this called in? I want to speak to the manager.”

(The manager is busy. He’s been listening to the customer and is fed up with him. I use this time to double check his profile. There’s still no record of an antibiotic being called in before, during, or after the transaction.)

Me: “Sir, nothing else has been called in.”

Customer: “I don’t want this one. I told you I didn’t want this one.”

(I apologize at least twice, and return his medication, and he drives away, with my ears ringing.)

Manager: “So what happened with [Customer]?”

(I explained the ordeal, and he was obviously annoyed at the customer’s behavior. Less than a half hour later, we received a call from an associate of the customer. The pharmacist, who had had enough of the guy, took the call personally and explained what happened. Still not sure if the guy has gotten the antibiotic yet…)

Not The Formula For A Successful Doctor
Atlanta, Bad Behavior, Doctor/Physician, Georgia, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | October 27, 2018
(My daughter is born almost three months early and spends the first ten weeks of her life in the hospital. The day she is born, I start using a breast pump, so that I can take milk to her. Shortly after she comes home, we quickly realize that breastfeeding is an unpleasant experience for both of us, so I decide to continue pumping, but to supplement with formula during the night. It takes three weeks after she gets home, and me jumping through hoops and making phone calls daily, to get her insurance pushed through and active, so I can finally get her to her first pediatric appointment. Because I do not have a running car, I make an appointment at the office just down the road, and my mother is generous enough to drive us there. We arrive about ten minutes before the appointment, but we end up waiting more than half an hour after the scheduled time to be called back. The nurse calls a name that is somewhat similar to my daughter’s, but is incorrect, and is often used as a last name. After she calls the name two or three times, and neither of the other two families in the waiting room move, I ask if she is calling for [Daughter]. She nods and waves her hand and tells us to follow her. Once in an exam room, we wait about another twenty minutes before the doctor comes in.)

Doctor: *not looking up from her paperwork* “So, what formula is she using?”

Me: “None. I currently give her breast milk.”

Doctor: “All breast milk? That’s great!” *goes on about how great it is that my daughter gets exclusively breast milk, and about the benefits of breastfeeding*

Me: “Thanks. I wanted to start giving her formula once in a while, but I’m not sure what kind would be best for her.”

Doctor: “Oh.” *suddenly less enthused* “Okay. So, he’s five months old, right?”

Me: “No. She is three months.”

Doctor: *pulling the blanket down from my daughter’s face* “Cute. Let me wash my hands.”

(I then receive a lecture on germs, about making everyone around my daughter wash their hands, and about not only keeping her away from anyone sick, but just not taking her outside at all or letting her around family. A few minutes later, while examining her

Doctor: “She’s cute. What’s her name?”

Me: “[Daughter].” *internally alarmed because did this doctor not even look at any of the papers*

Doctor: “[Daughter].” *sarcastically* “Hmm. Unique. So, how’s the breast feeding going?”

Me: “I pump, and then we give her a bottle. Since she spent the first two and half mo–”

Doctor: *interrupting me* “She has a suck reflex. She can breastfeed.”

Me: “We’ve tried a few times, but it just hasn’t worked out well. She does better–”

Doctor: *interrupting me again* “She can breastfeed.”

Me: “She falls asleep every few minutes, and I have to wake her up continually.”

Doctor: “That’s fine.”

Me: “After an hour or two of nursing, she still hasn’t had enough to be a meal.”

Doctor: “That’s fine. Just let her keep doing it. It’s good practice.”

Me: “Okay, we will nurse here and there for comfort or a snack between feeds, but I’m struggling with my supply, hence the formula. But for the most part–”

Doctor: *interrupting again, this time very forcefully* “There is no reason not to breastfeed! You need to stop using the pump, and your supply will increase. You don’t need the bottles. She can do it, so do it!”

Me: “Fine.”

Doctor: “Okay. Did the hospital give you a packet about [vaccine]?”

Me: “Yes. It’s in my bag on the chair.”

Doctor: “Get it for me.”

(Keeping my fingertips on my daughter’s leg, I stretch over and grab the packet. As soon as I stand up

Doctor: *scolding* “Don’t do that! Don’t ever do that! Don’t ever turn your back on your baby or look away! That’s how they fall off the table!”

Me: *defeated, flat* “Okay.”

Doctor: “I’m going to prescribe a formula for preemies; it has extra calories. You’ll get it when you go into the WIC office and give them this form.”

(I’m not on WIC, nor have I applied.)

Me: “Okay. Can I get it from a pharmacy? I have a bit of a transportation issue and may not be able to get there for a few days. Is there anything I can give her in the meantime?”

Doctor: *ignoring me* “You can take it there today, or tomorrow, or whenever is convenient.”

Me: “Where is the this office even located?”

Doctor: *waving me off* “Ask the receptionist when you check out. I want you to set up an appointment two weeks from now at our location in [City 30 minutes away] to get her next vaccines; I don’t do shots. Also, I want to see her back here next week so that I can check her weight. Does she have any other follow-up appointments?”

Me: *internally cringing at the thought of seeing this lady again* “Yes. She needs to see an audiologist. I just got the contact information for them yesterday. I was going to call them today, once we left here.”

Doctor: “Call them. She needs to go to that appointment. What about her eyes?”

Me: “She had her eyes looked at earlier this week at [office]. They gave her eyes a clean bill and said they don’t need to see her again.”

Doctor: “Do they need to see her again? What did they say?”

Me: *internally sighing* “They said her eyes are fine; she doesn’t need to go back.”

Doctor: “Good. But what about her hearing? Did they say anything about that? Do you have an appointment? Who with? When is the appointment?”

Me: “I haven’t made the appointment yet. I just got the information yesterday. I’m going to call them today.”

Doctor: “Make the appointment. Call them. She needs to go.”

Me: “Okay.”

(This went around and around a few times, with me confirming over and over. When we got to the checkout counter, I told the receptionist what the doctor said, and she was surprised. I asked if we could see someone else for the next appointment, and was told that until the doctor released my daughter as a patient, we had to see her again. The entire next appointment, unless I interjected or physically placed myself in front of her, the doctor directed every comment, question, or concern to my mother, who simply gave her a deer-in-the-headlights look. I assumed this was because though I am in my 20s and married, I look younger and the doctor assumed that I was some high school kid that got knocked up. Feeling frustrated, and still needing to get formula, I called the NICU that my daughter spent the first weeks of her life in. I explained the situation, and the charge nurse was very understanding and apologetic for my experience. She told me what formula they generally send preemie babies home with, and told me that I could pick it up at just about any grocery store with a baby section. I looked it up so that I could get a picture of the container to ask my husband to bring it home. Then, out of curiosity, I checked the paperwork with the prescription formula that the doctor gave me, and it was the same thing! I am currently looking for a different pediatrician.)

Jokes That Defy Medical Science
Chicago, Hospital, Parents/Guardians, Patients, Silly, USA | Healthy | October 26, 2018
(My dad is the absolute king of bad dad jokes. One day he is in for a check up and the nurse is taking his vitals.)

Nurse: “How is everything doing today?”

Dad: “Pretty good, except my shoulder.”

Nurse: “What’s up with your shoulder?”

Dad: “Well, before I could raise it this high–” *raises it all the way up* “–but now I can only raise it this high.” *raises it halfway*

Nurse: “Well, that’s too ba– Wait, what?”

(Cue my dad laughing uproariously.)

If You Act Like A Baby, You’ll Be Treated Like One
Massachusetts, Medical Office, Patients, Silly, USA | Healthy | October 25, 2018
(I’ve never been a fan of getting shots; I would faint every time I got one until I was around twelve. Despite being in my twenties at the time of this story, when I have to take an intramuscular shot, I am less than enthusiastic, gritting my teeth, planting my heels firmly into the floor, and angrily hissing “son of a w****” repeatedly.)

Nurse: “Okay, you’re all set. Are you all right?”

Me: *inhaling deeply and forcing myself to relax* “Hsss… Yeah, I’m fine… I mean, uh–” *fake baby voice* “Wah! That hurt! I want a lollipop!”

Nurse: “Do you actually wa–“

Me: “YES.”

(I got grape.)

The Reason Why Some Of Us Are Medicated:
Call Center, Florida, Impossible Demands, Patients, Pharmacy, Stupid, USA | Healthy | October 24, 2018
(I work as a customer service representative. Our company manages prescription plans for a government-run insurance primarily for seniors. We also function as a mail-order pharmacy. This call takes place while I’m still in training during my first week taking calls.)

Me: “This is [My Name]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah. My husband needs to start taking [drug]. I want to know if his plan will cover it.”

Me: “I can certainly check that for you, ma’am. May I have some information?”

(After I verify her husband’s account information, I look up the medication.)

Me: “Okay. Your husband’s insurance will cover that for an approximate cost of [total].”

Customer: “Well, that seems like too much, but he needs it. Can you send it to him, please?”

Me: “Let me see.”

(I check, and we do not have a prescription for it, nor has another pharmacy filed a claim.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We will need your husband’s doctor to send us a new prescription before we can fill it.”

Customer: “Oh. Well, his doctor won’t write it. You have to stop drinking for six months, and my husband likes to have a beer or two every night, so the doctor won’t write one.”

Me: “I’m sorry. But without a prescription, we cannot send a medication.”

Customer: *getting angry* “But I told you that his doctor won’t write the prescription! Can’t you just send it if we pay full price?”

Me: “Again, ma’am, I’m sorry, but we must have a prescription before we can send the medication.”

Customer: “Well, why can’t you just send it?!”

Me: *rubbing my temples at this point* “Ma’am, that would be illegal.”

Just Gave Birth To A Monster
California, Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Patients, Revolting, USA | Healthy | October 23, 2018
When I was very pregnant — ready-to-pop pregnant — I went to an appointment, to make sure everything was still going good, heart beating, moving around, all that stuff. I decided to grab fast food on the way in, and soon realized that my stomach wasn’t happy with my choice.

When I got into the appointment, I mentioned that I was slightly worried that there had been no Braxton Hicks, and the nurse assured me that I probably had but just didn’t realize it, and hooked me up to monitors. The whole time we were talking, I was holding in an incredible amount of gas, and trying to be discreet. She walked out and closed the door, and I finally let it go.

My husbands eyes were watering, and the thunder actually knocked things off the shelves. The first was followed by several more rather powerful explosions. At this point I was surprised the paint wasn’t peeling off the walls, and I looked over at the contraction machine and realized that it was faithfully recording every rumble. I was dying, knowing that the nurse was going to come in any second and have her eyebrows sizzled off by the noxious fumes. My husband was trying very hard to appear supportive and not laugh, but failing miserably.

The nurse came back in, and apparently completely oblivious to the smell, triumphantly held up the contraction tape to declare, “See?! You are having contractions! Powerful ones, too. Those are what we are looking for!”

My husband almost fell out of his seat, howling and wiping his eyes, while I was left to explain that no, that was my lunch, and those were literally the most monstrous farts I had ever been involved with.

To this day, I cannot figure out how she was able to walk into that green haze, and not realize what was actually going on.

I’m Sure Coca-Cola Sells It At This Point
Patients, Stupid, UK, Vet | Healthy | October 22, 2018
(A lady calls to seek advice about her tortoise, who has crusty matter around his eyes after waking from hibernation.)

Me: “I advise you to bathe his eyes with tepid water.”

Customer: “Where can I purchase tepid water from?”

Can’t Catch Anything Worse Than That Rotten Attitude
Bad Behavior, Canada, Friends, Health & Body, Lazy/Unhelpful, Manitoba, Neighborhood, Winnipeg | Healthy | October 21, 2018
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(My friend and I are walking down the street when an old man suddenly collapses in front of us.)

Me: “Sir? Are you all right? SIR?!” *no answer*

Friend: “Call 911!”

Me: “On it.”

(The ambulance arrives in less than five minutes. Sadly, the old man has died. He had a massive heart attack and was probably dead before he hit the ground.)

Me: *suddenly realizing* “Wait a minute. [Friend], don’t you know CPR?”

Friend: *looking shifty* “Yes. Why?”

Me: “Why didn’t you do anything for him?”

Friend: “Because he looked gross. I didn’t want to catch anything. Besides, he was dead already; it wouldn’t have done any good, anyway.”

Me: “…”

(We’re still friends, but I lost a lot of respect for her that day.)