There Is No Joy In Mudville
Bad Behavior, Children, Health & Body, Non-Dialogue, Sporting Event, USA, Wisconsin | Healthy | August 2, 2021
I have been playing baseball since I was about eight years old and this story takes place when I am eleven, in 1991.

There are a couple of league rules for our age group and the most important one is no cleating. For anyone unaware, this means that when you slide into base, you are not allowed to put your foot in the air with the spikes/cleats on the bottom of your shoe into the person guarding the base. You have to keep your feet down when sliding. Anyone that cleats will be kicked out of the game and suspended for other games or kicked from the league, depending on the infraction.

The season has just started, we’re only a few games in, and everyone is having fun. Today is the day my mom is volunteering at the concession stand, so she’s not down by the field watching my game. She can see us playing from where she’s at, but she can’t pay attention to all of the game since she’s helping people. My dad is working; he can’t be at the game at the start and will be around about halfway through.

The game is still pretty early, just starting the third inning. I’m put in to replace the pitcher. I take over the mound and there is a runner on third. The runner is the biggest kid in our league. He’s in sixth grade, but he’s already a good foot taller than most of us and weighs a good sixty pounds more than most of us, too.

I strike out the first batter I go up against. Two more outs to end this inning.

The next batter hits a pop fly out to shallow right-center field. The outfielder comes in and makes the catch, and the runner on third tags up on the base and starts to run to home plate, but he holds up as the outfielder throws the ball to the catcher. Unfortunately, the throw from the outfielder is wide and the ball goes behind the catcher and rolls to the backstop. My job now is to help cover home plate. The catcher runs back to the ball, turns, and tosses to me. Because the throw to home plate was bad, the runner on third runs home in an attempt to score.

I’m now straddling the side of home plate, waiting for the ball to come to me so I can attempt to tag the runner out. I catch the ball and swing my glove down to make the tag, but the runner slides into home and cleats me. He ends up cleating my left arm, kicking my arm out of the way, and forcing me to drop the ball. At the time, it doesn’t hurt, and I turn around to take a few steps to where the ball landed. I go to scoop the ball off the ground with my glove, and when I try to turn my arm, that’s when the pain strikes me. I drop to the ground in agony, clenching my left arm.

One of the other parents runs up to the concession stand and gets my mom. She comes over with a bag of ice and we end up leaving for the ER to get x-rays.

About thirty minutes after my mom and I leave, my dad shows up and he sits in the bleachers and starts watching the game. After about fifteen minutes, he notices that he doesn’t see me on the field and asks one of the moms sitting near him where I am. The lady tells him what happened and that I left to go to the ER.

My dad looks at the lady, with a deadpan face, and asks, “Did he make the out?”

The lady is so upset with my dad’s lack of concern — because she doesn’t understand that he’s joking — that she punches him in the arm, actually leaving a bruise, and tells him he should be ashamed of himself. My dad tries to tell her he was joking, but she wants nothing more to do with him.

The kid that cleated me broke my arm, and he is never kicked out of the game or suspended for cleating. In fact, he never receives any kind of disciplinary action against him… probably because he is the kid of one of the coaches. The kid develops a bad habit of cleating others until someone gets tired of it and cleats the kid back.

X-rays show a fractured ulna, and because some strain is put on the ulna when you twist your forearm, I can’t just have a short cast put on. I have to have a full arm cast — from my hand to my bicep — for six weeks.

I spend the summer being unable to do most things — playing ball, hitting up the pool with friends, and wrestling. The upside is that my mom feels so bad for me that she takes my younger brother and me to an amusement park. I can ride some of the roller coasters, and as we stand in line for a ride, one of the employees sees me and asks why I am waiting in line and not using the accessible entrance. He says I should be using that entrance and gives us a pass to use them. We get to bypass the long lines and I have a blast that day.

Some People Shouldn’t Be Nurses
Bad Behavior, Medical Office, Nurses, Ohio, USA | Healthy | July 30, 2021
I am newly eighteen, so at my doctor’s office, I have to fill out new paperwork — confidentiality and whatever they make you do. I’m a short, very light-skinned girl with bright blonde hair which is naturally dark brown but I dye it. My mother is from Cuba and her father is from Spain, so I am 50% Latina and Hispanic. I definitely don’t look it, which isn’t normally a problem. It’s more like a fun trivia tidbit about me.

On one of the papers I am filling out, it asks if I am Hispanic/Latina. I check yes, because I am. I give the nurse the paperwork and wait in the room for a doctor. I can hear some nurses outside the door in the office area talking rather loudly.

Nurse #1 : “She’s got blonde hair and blue eyes — perfect Aryan. I think she checked the wrong box.”

Nurse #2 : “Change it for her. Obviously, she got it wrong.”

Nurse #1 : “Maybe she’s trying to scam us. One of those people begging to be oppressed.”

For the record, I have deep brown eyes, not blue. But I’m very upset about the conversation I’m hearing. My ethnicity is not for them to decide or discuss, and my patient records are supposed to be confidential, not talked about in front of or to anyone.

The nurse comes back in and hands me the clipboard.

Nurse #1 : “I think you marked that wrong — the Hispanic/Latina question.”

Me: “Uh, I am both Hispanic and Latina. I’m Cuban and Spanish.”

Nurse #1 : “Are you sure?”

Me: “Are you sure you should be gossiping about your patients’ medical files to other nurses and whoever else can hear right in front of the door?”

She left without another word. I’ve considered switching from that office for a while, but I don’t go enough for it to be a huge problem. I’m still bothered by this incident, though.

One Wild Ride
Home, Hospital, Patients, Siblings, Texas, USA | Healthy | July 26, 2021
The summer before my brother starts college, we go to an amusement park. He drags me on a bunch of terrible rides and a fun time is had by all. A few days later, however…

Brother: “My stomach hurts.”

Mom: “Where? How bad is it?”

Brother: “It’s not bad, just kind of sore right here.”

He gestures vaguely to the middle of his stomach, so my mom dismisses his appendix.

Mom: “It’s probably bruised from the bars on the [ride]. It’s what you get for dragging your sister on it and flipping it over.”

Over the course of a week, the pain doesn’t subside, but my brother hasn’t mentioned it getting worse or anything like that. My mom lets it go for the moment but decides to take him to the doctor if it doesn’t get better by next week. Come the weekend, I find him lying down on the floor of his room.

Me: “[Brother], are you okay?”

Brother: “No, my stomach really hurts. I just took another Hydrocodone, and it still hurts.”

The Hydrocodone was for his oral surgery he’d had earlier in the year. That surgery bothered him so little he never ended up taking the pills and just left them in the medicine cabinet.

Me: “Don’t worry. I’ll get Mom and we’ll take you to the doctor, okay?”

I got to my mom’s room.

Me: “Mom, we need to take [Brother] to the doctor. His stomach hurts and he took another Hydrocodone.”

Mom: “He did what?”

She rushed out, collected my brother, and drove us to the emergency room. It turns out it was his appendix. It had actually ruptured partially, though thankfully his body had walled it off. He had to go in for emergency surgery. My parents were pissed he let himself suffer so much before getting help. He recovered fine and was more upset that he had a weight limit for his first two weeks at college.

Diagnosis: Unnecessary Anguish
Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Medical Office, Texas, USA | Healthy | July 24, 2021
In 2016, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Due to the cancer being estrogen-related, she opted out of chemotherapy and decided that the mastectomy and pills would be enough. I supported her 100% and even argued against doctors and my father when they tried to pressure her.

Two years later, her thyroid started acting up. She went in for multiple biopsies. While we waited for results, I started Googling if the breast cancer could have metastasized into her thyroid. A week went by, and she went to her regular doctor and was told that the results were cancer. We got a nice report that said whatever they found was malignant.

We were devastated, and I blamed myself for not pushing chemo on my mom. We got the results Wednesday and had to wait until Monday to see her cancer doctor. It was a bad week. The day of the appointment, I tagged along with my mom and dad so I could be kept informed. The doctor walked into the office smiling.

Doctor: “How are we doing today?”

Mom: “I don’t know, you tell me. Do you know what stage it is? Has it spread?”

Doctor: “Cancer?”

Mom: “In the thyroid?”

Doctor: “You don’t have cancer.”

Mom: “What? They told me it was cancer.”

That was apparently shocking enough that the doctor left the room to go talk with the other doctors who did the biopsy.

Doctor: “Well, I mean it’s not not cancer. We don’t know exactly what’s wrong. It needs to come out for sure, but it’s probably not cancer, and if it was, it’d be stage zero and not dangerous.”

I sat in silence while the doctor hashed out treatment and surgery options with my parents. I felt relieved but also annoyed and confused.

Me: “I read the report, though. Why’d they put ‘malignant’ if they didn’t know?”

Doctor: “Oh, well, sometimes they just need to put something on the report.”

It wasn’t cancer, by the way. The thyroid was two times bigger and three times heavier than it should have been and covered in nodes, but my mom made a full recovery and is healthy.

Cat Poop: It’s What’s For Dinner
Funny, Houston, Revolting, Texas, USA, Vet, Wordplay | Healthy | July 22, 2021
My cat’s name is Dinner; my boyfriend, who is Vietnamese American, named him. He hasn’t been feeling well (the cat), and the vet told me to bring in a fecal sample.

They are still doing business by car, so when I pull up and the vet tech comes out, I hand over the bag of poop.

Me: “This is for Dinner.”

Vet Tech: *Stammering* “Thank you?”

Then, I come to my senses.

Me: *Laughing* “It’s a sample from my cat, Dinner. The vet needs it.”

She was so professional and so polite, in spite of her “WTF” face.

Sometimes You Have To Go Off-Script
Australia, Current Events, Health & Body, Patients, Pharmacy, Retail | Healthy | July 20, 2021
I work in a pharmacy, so you can imagine that we get more than our fair share of sick, coughing people. Unfortunately, that also means that we get more than our fair share of people who insist they cannot wear a mask. While corporate has refused to allow us to use curbside service, my management HAS been very good at backing us up and insisting we can refuse service to people that don’t comply.

Customer: “Hi, I just need this script filled.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, can you please put on your mask?”

Customer: “No, I have a medical exemption.”

Me: “I’m afraid that I am going to have to insist.”

Customer: “I cannot wear a mask.”

Me: “Ma’am, we will refuse service to anyone who isn’t wearing a mask. Many of our customers are high-risk.”

At this, she lifts her script to press it flat against the plastic of the barrier between us.

Customer: “The sooner you give me these, the sooner I can leave and start taking them so that I can wear a mask. But I need this script first.”

I am about to keep arguing, but then I realise what the medication on the script is. It’s a strong prescription painkiller, used for nerve disease and shingles and its complications.

I then look at the woman’s face again, and I realise the redness on her cheeks and jaw are not embarrassment or just a ruddy complexion but inflammation.

Me: “Sorry, ma’am. I’ll… get right on that.”

Could she have been clearer? Given the particular painkiller, probably not.

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.

This All Sounds Totally Normal
Doctor/Physician, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, Pennsylvania, Pittsburgh, USA | Healthy | July 9, 2021
I’ve had some worrying symptoms, so I go to see a new doctor for the first time. I recently lost my insurance and then the health crisis hit, so I haven’t had a primary care provider in some time. As suspected, the doctor orders some bloodwork.

Me: “Will this require me to fast? Because if I don’t, fair warning, my liver enzymes will be high.”

Doctor: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Any time I take a blood test and I’m not required to fast, my liver enzymes are always reported as abnormally high.”

Doctor: “And your previous doctor never bothered to try and figure out why that is?”

Me: “No, they would just order another test, have me fast, and then go, ‘You’re normal.’”

The doctor rolls her eyes in annoyance at this.

Doctor: “Okay, but… why wouldn’t they check that?” *Sighs* “Don’t fast for this one, but I’m going to have to have that checked out… like somebody should have a while ago.”

Soccer Is Always Bloodiest When Parents Get Involved
Bad Behavior, Health & Body, Parents/Guardians, Reddit, Sporting Event | Healthy | CREDIT: xylophoneplayer88 | July 8, 2021
When I am about eleven or twelve years old, I play for a local girls’ football/soccer team as the goalie. We play on a field not far from my house for home games.

We go up against another local team in the county tournament. This team has a girl on it whose mother is a known problem. She’ll scream if her daughter is so much as touched and has been known to be threatening to both parents and players. [Girl] is lovely, and we actually know each other from school. There is a friendly sort of rivalry between us.

About halfway through the first half, [Girl] comes at the goal and we end up both going for the ball at the same time. Her foot connects hard with my ankle and I immediately know it is broken. [Girl] apparently heard the break, and helps me to the ground, yelling for help. When I look down, my foot is at a very strange angle.

Both coaches help me off the pitch, [Girl] beside me holding my hand, both of us crying. Other players are gathering round, but the coaches tell them to step back and give me some space. My parents appear and sit with me while my team’s coach calls for an ambulance.

[Girl]’s mum appears. I hear her before I see her.

Girl’s Mum: “What’s going on? [Girl], get back on the field.”

Girl: “Mum, I broke [My Name]’s ankle. I want to stay with her. I’ll be red-carded, anyway.”

Usually, if there’s a foul you get a yellow card, and two yellow cards cause you to be red-carded and sent off. However, if a foul is particularly bad or causes serious injury, you’re red-carded straight away.

Girl’s Mum: “Red-carded?! Why, because she didn’t get out of the way in time?”

My Mum: “No, because it happened. I don’t think [Girl] meant for it to happen, but it still did.”

Girl’s Mum: “Well, I think your daughter did this on purpose to make [Girl] look bad. I bet she’s faking it.”

I’m still crying and in too much pain for patience.

Me: “If you think I can make my ankle bend like that myself, then you’re stupid.”

Girl’s Mum: “How dare you?!” *Turns to the coach* “I want the police here, too, for defamation of my daughter’s character.”

The referee comes over to check how I am and to let [Girl] know that, as she thought, she’s red-carded. [Girl] doesn’t seem to care, but her mother explodes.

Girl’s Mum: “You can’t red-card my daughter. Red-card that little b****. In fact, ban her from the game! She’s putting it on on purpose. Look!”

She kicks my ankle. It’s not hard, but it still causes me agony because of the break. I scream, and my mum jumps up to take the woman on. The other team’s coach has to get between them to stop a fight.

An ambulance shows up during this, and the paramedics come to help me. They manage to get both [Girl] and me laughing and help to secure my ankle so as not to cause more injury. My dad tells them about what [Girl]’s mum did, and one of the paramedics shakes her head.

Paramedic: “You can’t help stupid, I guess.”

The police also showed up while I was being sorted out. I didn’t see this part but was told about it by other players later. [Girl]’s mum started yelling that my mum and I should be arrested for defamation. However, after the police were told by several witnesses what had happened, [Girl]’s mum was arrested for assault.

I was taken to the hospital in the ambulance, my mum riding with me and my dad driving the family car. It turned out that I had a break in two places in my ankle. I have a strong suspicion that one of the breaks was the result of [Girl]’s mum’s kick, though that couldn’t be proven.

I had to wear a cast for six weeks and missed a week of school. [Girl] and other members of both teams came to visit me at home in the following days.

[Girl]’s mother was cautioned and released but was issued with a lifetime touchline ban by the team’s coach. She apparently tried to show up at a couple of games, but other parents made her leave again. Thankfully, [Girl] is still lovely, and we remain friends to this day.

A Very Patient Patient
Doctor/Physician, Lazy/Unhelpful, Psychiatrist, USA, Virginia | Healthy | July 7, 2021
I’ve just begun seeing this psychiatrist for treatment for ADD after having been diagnosed by a different doctor who, unfortunately, was too far away for me to see him regularly.

First, I go over history, habits, etc. with her.

Me: “I’ve read that [Drug #1 ] is more commonly used to treat this, but [Drug #2 ] has less anxiety-inducing side effects, and I think that that might be the better choice for me—”

Doctor #1 : “Oh, no, you don’t want to take either of those. They can both be addictive, but [Drug #3 ] works just as well and doesn’t have nearly so many terrible side effects.”

Me: “Oh, all right! That sounds a lot better. Let’s try that!”

She then goes over what she says are all the potential side effects I need to worry about and writes me a prescription. Two weeks later, I return for my first follow-up.

Doctor #1 : “So, how do you like them?”

Me: “I don’t know. They make me sick to my stomach. Most days, I throw up for the first time pretty soon after taking them, even if I’m sure to do it with food and without anything else that might upset my stomach, so I don’t think they’re actually being properly absorbed, and then I’m sick throughout the day. When I can keep them down, I still get very nauseous. I’m having headaches and feeling really tired.”

Doctor #1 : “That’s normal while you’re starting the medication. You just need to keep taking it; your body will adjust.”

Me: “Even though I’m throwing it up almost every day?”

Doctor #1 : “Yes, it’s still getting into your system. You’ll see.”

Me: “And the headaches and tiredness?”

Doctor #1 : “The headaches will go away, and tiredness isn’t a side effect of this drug. You need to make sure you’re maintaining a good sleep schedule; that way, you’ll be able to separate your regular feelings from the medication. Just stick with it.”

Two weeks after that, I go back again.

Me: “I haven’t been getting sick quite as much, but the headaches and drowsiness are really bad, even on days when I’m getting eight hours. Also, does this medication react with alcohol at all? Because I was at a party and I had a drink, and I started feeling way too intoxicated for just having had one drink.”

Doctor #1 : “What? You must never drink while you’re taking this medication! You shouldn’t drink at all — it’s so bad for you — but if you drink while you’re on this medication, it will kill you!”

Me: “I told you in the intake interview that I drank occasionally. Why didn’t you warn me?”

Doctor #1 : “You shouldn’t drink at all! It’s terrible for you! You’re so lucky nothing else happened to you!”

So, I give up drinking. At her insistence, I keep taking the medication, in part because she’s told me that she won’t prescribe me anything else, despite me requesting that she change it multiple times. I assume that since she’s a doctor, she must know better than I do, even though the side effects still remain and I haven’t noticed many changes in my symptoms.

After ten months, I start seeing a psychotherapist for different reasons, and when she hears about what’s been going on, she insists that I take her referral to a different psychiatrist.

Doctor #2 : “So, you’ve been taking [Drug #3 ] for eight months? Have you noticed your symptoms improving?”

Me: “A little, I guess. I think it’s hard to tell because I’ve been so tired lately. I know that that’s not supposed to be a side effect for [Drug #3 ], but I’ve been making sure I get enough sleep and it’s still a problem.”

Doctor #2 : “You noticed you were becoming tired after you started [Drug #3 ]? You know, just because something isn’t one of the listed side effects, it doesn’t mean it can’t possibly happen. So that’s made it hard for you to tell if your symptoms are improving?”

I’m encouraged that he hasn’t just dismissed me.

Me: “Yes, definitely. And the headaches. They’ve been so bad that I can’t focus at all sometimes.”

Doctor #2 : *Taking notes* “Are those all the side effects you’ve noticed?”

Me: “Well, it doesn’t happen as frequently now, but probably once a week I’ll end up throwing up from the meds.”

Doctor #2 : “Once a week isn’t frequent?”

Me: “It used to be almost every day. My old doctor said it was just my body adjusting to the medication.”

Doctor #2 : “How long did that go on?”

Me: “The first few months? When I first started, I’d be sick throughout the day, but after a while, it would just happen right after I took the pills. Now, though, I’m usually just nauseous for a while, but sometimes that gets so bad that I need to lie down.”

Doctor #2 : “So, we’ve got drowsiness, nausea, and headaches. Anything else?”

Me: “No. The only other weird reaction was when I drank, which I found out I wasn’t supposed to do.”

Doctor #2 : “Not supposed to drink?”

Me: “Yeah, my other doctor told me afterward about how it can be deadly, so losing some of my equilibrium seems like a fair trade-off since that’s the only bad thing that happened.”

Doctor #2 : “There are warnings about drinking on [Drug #3 ] because it can increase the effects of alcohol on your system, but the only life-threatening concerns are for binge drinkers, because [Drug #3 ] could exacerbate liver damage. Your doctor told you drinking on [Drug #3 ] was prohibited?”

Me: “She basically told me that it would be fatal.”

Doctor #2 : “All right. Well, first of all, that’s not true. Second, since you’re having such bad side effects from [Drug #3 ] and you haven’t noticed much improvement, I’d recommend switching medications, all right?”

He ended up prescribing me [Drug #2 ], the same drug that I requested from my first doctor during our first appointment. It’s been a month, and all the drowsiness, nausea, and headaches are gone, along with a lot of my initial symptoms. Let this be a warning: if your doctor refuses to work with you to find an acceptable course of treatment and you have any other options at all, explore them! An MD doesn’t always mean that the doctor knows best.

Honey, He Ain’t A Scrapbooking Project
Editors' Choice, Health & Body, Hospital, Impossible Demands, UK | Healthy Right | July 16, 2008
(I witnessed this on the hospital floor where I work. A patient’s daughter comes out of a hospital room and stands in the hallway, staring around looking lost.)

Nurse’s aide: “Can I help you?”

Daughter: “Yeah… can I have a stapler?”

(The nurse’s aide walks about two steps away to get a stapler and then thinks better of this request.)

Nurse’s aide: “Why do you want a stapler?”

Daughter: “My dad’s IV tubing is getting in his way. I thought it would be better if we stapled it to his arm.”

Nurse’s aide: “Um, I think tape would work better for that.”

Daughter: “You guys have tape here?”

Nurse’s aide: “Yeah, I have some here in my pocket.”

(The aide walks into the room to secure the IV tubing before any more of his genius children try to help.)

Daughter: *muttering* “I still think a stapler is a better idea…”

Hippocrates Is Rolling Over In His Grave
Doctor/Physician, Insurance, Jerk, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | May 13, 2009
Me: “Thank you for calling. How can I help you?”

Doctor: “I need to verify my patient’s coverage. Her number is [number].”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there is a problem and I can’t access that account. I will have to forward this issue over to our technical department, and they will get back to you as soon as possible.”

Doctor: “I need this information immediately. Can I talk to them now? It’s very important.”

Me: “I’m sorry, they are very backed up over there and everything is handled in the order it is received. You will be added to the queue and they will get back to you later today.”

Doctor: “What if she was dying and I needed her coverage information? What then?!”

Me: “Ma’am, with all due respect, if the patient was dying there in your office, I would hope you would treat her regardless of her insurance coverage.”

Doctor: “Well, yes — I mean… Just make sure they call me today.” *click*

Where The Sun Don’t Shine, Bungholio
Funny, Patients, Pharmacy, Stupid, USA | Healthy | May 12, 2009
Customer: “These things don’t work! They are hard to swallow and I nearly choked to death.”

Me: “Ma’am, they are suppositories. You don’t swallow them; you insert them rectally.”

Customer: “What does that mean?”

Me: “You unwrap them and insert them in your rectum.”

Customer: “What’s my rectum?”

Me: “Ma’am, please forgive me, but your rectum is your butthole.”

Customer: “Well, up yours, too!” *stalks off*

(This is not the first time someone misunderstood when we explained how to use a suppository. It’s the only time we can tell a patient, “Up yours,” and get away with it!)

The (Brain) Damage Has Already Been Done
Alcohol, Call Center, Emergency Services, Germany, Health & Body | Healthy Right | May 6, 2009
(Note: 1-1-2 is Germany’s version of 9-1-1.)

Me: “1-1-2, what’s your emergency?”

Caller: “Oh, my god! Help me! Help me!”

Me: “Calm down, please. Can you tell me what happened, if someone is hurt, and where you are?”

Caller: “I’m at home, and my brain stopped working!”

Me: “Your brain… stopped working? Sir, if your brain would stop working, you would be dead. Can you tell me exactly what happened? Are you bleeding?”

Caller: “No, no. But my brain stopped working! At least half of it! Oh, my god, will the other half stop working as well?! Will I die?! My wife was right! I can’t believe it!”

(At this point, I’m unsure what to do. The man is really in a state of panic, but sounds otherwise fine.)

Me: “Sir, is your wife at home? Can I speak to her? If not, please tell me exactly what you did when your… brain stopped working.”

Caller: “I watched soccer! And drank beer! My wife always told me ‘When you don’t stop that crap, your brain will stop working’ and now it did! I was sitting on the couch and turned my head to look at the clock and suddenly I can’t move my head anymore because the left side of my brain stopped working! Help!”

Me: “Sir, it sounds like you only cricked your neck!”
that this is indeed his problem and that he’ll see a doctor in the morning. I’m about to end the call, when…)

Caller: “Hey, dude…”

Me: “Yes?”

Caller: “Is she right?”

Me: “Who?”

Caller: “My wife. You seem to know a lot about medicine and stuff, so can my brain really stop working from watching too much soccer and drinking beer?”

Me: “Well, alcohol is known for indeed killing brain cells when you drink too much, but you won’t–”

Caller: “Oh, my god! Thank you! I thought she was only kidding me, but when you say it, then I’ll stop! Thank you so much for saving my life! Thank you!”

Me: “Wait, I didn’t say–”

Caller: *hangs up*
(I start describing him what a cricked neck feels like and he agrees

It’s Called Healthyitis
Bizarre, Doctor/Physician, Health & Body, USA | Healthy Right | April 16, 2009
Me: “Thank you for waiting. My name is [My Name]. What is your call regarding?”

Patient: “Yeah, I want to ask the nurse a question.”

Me: “Is this regarding symptoms you are experiencing?”

Patient: “Yeah… well, kind of.”

Me: “What symptoms are you experiencing?”

Patient: “Actually, none.”

Me: “You are experiencing no symptoms?”

Patient: “Yeah… I have no pain and I just want to know if that is normal.”

I Am Anti-Antibiotics
Doctor/Physician, England, Hospital, Jerk, UK | Healthy | May 30, 2019
(After I get back from my vacation, I get a bad UTI infection and need antibiotics from my General Practitioner. I am prescribed a course and everything is good until the evening. My entire body randomly breaks out in spots — big, red, blotchy patches. It feels like ants are crawling over my entire body. At around three am, I go to the urgent care centre and the out-of-hours GP calls me through.)

Me: “I have this rash. It hurts so much. It started after I started taking the penicillin this morning. I’ve never been allergic before but my mum and grandma are—“

GP: “I’ll stop you there. This is clearly eczema.”

Me: “I don’t think so. My chest really hurts, too.”

GP: “Definitely eczema. There isn’t much I can do.”

Me: “I don’t think it’s eczema. It’s come on really suddenly.”

(I’m struggling to breathe and the rash has spread up my neck and throat.)

GP: “Stop being a baby! My niece has diabetes and she’s never moaned as much as you have right now!”

(I excuse myself and stumble back to the waiting room. My mum is there and manages to catch me as I collapse on the floor. She calls for an ambulance and the doctor comes back out.)

GP: “You can’t sleep here!”

Mum: “She can’t breathe, you idiot!”

(The ambulance came and I was given an adrenaline shot and rushed into the main section of the hospital. I was right. It was anaphylaxis. I was having an allergic reaction to penicillin.)

I Don’t Drink, But After This, I Wanna
Bad Behavior, Doctor/Physician, England, Hampshire, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | May 29, 2019
(I am 19, and I go in for my annual checkup at the doctor. I am given a standard medical questionnaire to fill in. One of the questions is, “On average, how many units of alcohol do you drink a week?” I have never been a big drinker, not even as a teen. Not for any particular reason; it just isn’t my thing. At most, I have a few drinks on New Years and a few on my birthday. I write on the form that I have a couple of units a week, which would average out to the few drinks on my birthday and New Years with plenty of wiggle room to spare, just in case. I hand the form in, and it is sent to the doctor. Eventually, he calls me in. We do my height and weight and blood pressure. All good. Then he comes to my alcohol intake and narrows his eyes at me.)

Doctor: “You can be truthful, you know. I’m a medical professional.”

Me: “I know. I am being honest. I’m not a big drinker.”

(He stares at me for a while.)

Doctor: “I was young once. And I have teenage kids. I’m not going to judge you. Be honest.”

Me: “I am being honest. I’m not a drinker.”

Doctor: *condescendingly* “What do you do when you go clubbing? Drink water?”

(Taken aback, I shake my head. I don’t go clubbing; nightclubs are my idea of Hell. I have a full-time job, often working fifty or more hours, and I have no interest in going to loud clubs or bars on my days off.)

Me: “I don’t go out much. I’d rather go out for coffee than go clubbing.”

(The doctor raises his eyebrows.)

Doctor: “Okay, well, I’m going to put you down for ten units a week.”

(He picks up his pen and actually crosses out what I wrote.)

Me: “No! What I wrote was true. I don’t drink. Even a few units a week is generous. I don’t want you to change what I wrote.”

Doctor: “Look, just be honest. If you’re not, we can’t treat you.”

Me: “I am being honest. I don’t give you permission to change it.”

Doctor: “Well, I’m the doctor, and I have reason to believe you are being dishonest. You need to stop lying on medical forms. That’s a big deal. If you keep lying on them, you could die because we don’t have the right information.”

(I keep trying to argue with him but he writes over what I wrote and puts down ten units a week. Dumbfounded and unsure of what to do, I carry on with the rest of the exam, just wanting it to be over. As soon as I am out, I go straight to reception and tell them I want to make a complaint. At first, the receptionist is alarmed and asks what the problem is. When I tell her, she pauses and then rolls her eyes.)

Receptionist: “Look, sweetie, we won’t tell your parents. Everything you tell us is confidential.”

Me: “I live by myself. That’s not my issue. The doctor falsified my medical records without my permission.”

Receptionist: “Your medical records need to be accurate, sweetie. Otherwise, we can’t treat you.”

(The receptionist refuses to log my complaint. When I continue to insist, she looks down her nose at me.)

Receptionist: “For somebody who doesn’t drink, you sure are protesting a lot.”

(I wanted to scream at her that I was angry because they were DELIBERATELY FALSIFYING my medical records, but instead, I left and transferred to another practice.)

They Don’t “Do” Paying
Belgium, Call Center, Insurance, Non-Dialogue, Stupid | Healthy | May 28, 2019
(I used to work for a medical insurance company. I answered phone calls and emails from customers who had questions about their insurance policy or reimbursements. In this case, the customer had a coverage of 80%, meaning that he had to pay for 20% of the amount himself. The following is an exchange over email.)

Customer: “I saw that 80% of my invoice was paid, but what do I have to do about the remaining balance?”

Me: “The coverage for this type of expense is 80%. This means that we have paid for 80% of your expenses to the hospital directly. The other 20% should be paid by you, yourself.”

Customer: “I don’t understand. What do I have to do?”

Me: “Since the coverage is not at 100%, this means that we cannot pay for 100%. We have paid our share to the hospital. The remaining balance of [amount] should be paid to the hospital by you, yourself. If you have already paid this to the hospital, everything is fine and no further action is required. If you want, you can give me a phone call or provide me with your phone number, so I can give you a call, so I can explain this to you by phone.”

Customer: “I really don’t understand. What do you want me to do?”

(He has given me no phone number and no other option than to send another email.)

Me: “The amount of [amount] has to be paid to the hospital by you, yourself. If you have already paid [amount] to the hospital, you should do nothing. If you have not yet paid [amount] to the hospital, you need to pay [amount] to the hospital. If you are unsure whether you have paid or not, please contact the hospital’s billing department.”

Customer: “I am [Customer]’s manager and I have been over these emails with him. We both do not understand what he needs to do.”

(Again, I was given no phone number. At that point, I decided to break the rules and put the email back in the general mailbox instead of my personal one to let someone else deal with it. The worst part is that these people work for the United Nations.)

Underarm Comments Are Below The Belt
Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | May 27, 2019
(My mum suffers from Hidradenitis Suppurativa, a chronic skin condition which sees her being plagued with recurring abscesses and boils in her sweat gland areas, particularly her underarms. This conversation occurs at her local GP surgery whilst she is suffering a particularly bad bout of abscesses.)

Mum: “I have really painful abscesses on my underarm, and I’m struggling to get dressed and move my arms as a result.”

Doctor: “Okay, let’s have a look.”

(My mum struggles to remove her coat, but finally succeeds and proceeds to show the doctor her underarm. The doctor recoils in horror.)

Doctor: “Well, you could have at least shaved before coming in.”

(My mum was horrified and embarrassed. She had had these abscesses for weeks. I’d love to know how the doctor would have suggested shaving the area whilst her underarms were in that state from the abscesses. He was fired a few months later; apparently, he’d had a number of complaints from various female patients about the comments he had made to them.)

The Next One Won’t Even Make It Out Of The House
Australia, Editors' Choice, Emergency Services, Family & Kids, Friends, Patients | Healthy | May 27, 2019
(My friend is in labour and it becomes clear she is going to have her baby in the back of the ambulance. She is freaking out.)

Paramedic: *trying to comfort her* “This is nothing. Last year, a woman had a baby in the hospital car park.”

Friend: *wailing* “That was me!”

Risk Of Breast Cancer Is Not The Worst Thing In This Story
Billing, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, Stupid, USA | Healthy | May 26, 2019
I’m a young woman who doesn’t have to go in for yearly mammograms, but when doing a check one month, I notice a possible lump. Women are encouraged to visit their doctor immediately when this happens, as breast cancer can be very aggressive. I go in to my regular doctor office, but the PA I normally see is on maternity leave, so a different one is scheduled for my visit.

The new physician is nice, but it all goes downhill once she refers me for additional testing. Her assistant schedules the referral without a checking date or time with me and doesn’t give me all the appointment info. My mammogram appointment starts out rocky as a result, but thankfully they don’t find any cancer so I’m pronounced healthy and sent on my way.

Fast forward a couple weeks, and I get an outrageous bill for the facility I was referred to. I reach out to the hospital billing and then my doctor’s office. The hospital billing team is very nice but the doctor’s office doesn’t care that they botched my referral by pushing me over to one of their connected facilities. I talk to them about once a week for a month and a half, and their office manager can’t remember to return my calls. Finally, after leaving a message for the office manager’s boss, hospital billing gets involved.

The office manager has requested that they just comp my bill because of all the issues –more than what I mentioned above — I’ve had when dealing with them. She says it should be cleared up, so I end that call relieved. Hospital billing steps in, and suddenly I’m being told that my bill is not being comped. I’m normally non-confrontational, but the woman I’m speaking to is so rude and doesn’t seem to care that her organization’s facilities have repeatedly messed up just about every interaction I’ve had related to this initial visit, or that I’ve been promised the bill will be written off already. We argue for several minutes until she agrees to take another day to look into this more and decide. It’s really just a stall on her part, as reneging on writing off the remaining bill will be going back on what her colleague promised.

She calls me the next day and begrudgingly agrees that they’ll comp my bill. I also end up speaking to the office manager again, who reminds me that they’ll expect me to pay my bills in the future.

For the record, I always pay my bills and had given them an initial payment which I thought was kind of a co-pay. I learned better as a result of this and will not make that mistake again.

We all think everything is resolved until a couple months later, when I get some cryptic call from some woman that I can barely understand. She’s asking for me to identify myself so she can discuss my account with me. I tell her that I don’t know who she is and I’m not comfortable with sharing personal info. She says that’s fine but I should call them back when I’m ready. Somewhere during the conversation, she says something that makes me realize this is a collections call.

Of course, she won’t tell me anything unless I share my info with her, but the only billing snafu of late was the hospital one. So, I call them and end up finding out that when they bill, the facility sends one bill but the radiologist sends a separate bill. And somehow, I should know that these bills are sent separately.

By now, I’m freaked because a) I thought this was resolved a few months ago, and b) I’m planning to buy a house and don’t want a collections account to show up on my credit report.

I make a few calls that result in me leaving a message with the rude hospital billing lady I spoke to a few months before. She leaves me a message later letting me know that she’s spoken to the second billing team and it should be taken care of. Our insurance person at work also tells me to call back the collections agency and let them know I’m working things out with the hospital. I do and they freeze the collections account for me.

I’ve not heard anything from either billing group, so it all seems to be resolved now. And I’ve switched to a different doctor’s office, one not connected to the hospital. Everyone is really nice and so far I’ve had no issues.

Moral of the story: ask lots of questions when your doctor refers you anywhere. And don’t go unless your insurance has signed off on that being the best in-network facility and estimated how much it will cost.

Grandma Needs To Stop Beeping Swearing
Bizarre, Golden Years, Home, Nurses, The Netherlands | Healthy | May 25, 2019
(I’m visiting my grandma, who is in her nineties, alongside my dad, who is 70. We talk about how life is going and suddenly I stop.)

Dad: “What’s wrong?”

Me: “I’m hearing a beep.”

Grandma: “What? What did she say? I haven’t got my hearing aids in today!”

(She is feeling a bit ill.)

Dad: “[My Name] says she hears a beep!”

Grandma: “I don’t hear anything!”

Dad: “That’s because your hearing aids aren’t in, Mom!”

Grandma: “What?!”

(Meanwhile, I’ve been browsing through the apartment, even looking outside. I’m moving my hand along with the beep; it’s several short ones and then a longer one, but never in a steady pattern.)

Grandma: “What is she doing?!”

Dad: “She’s looking for that beep!”

Grandma: “I’m not hearing anything!”

Dad: “Me, neither… [My Name] are you sure?”

(I can’t find the source, but limit it to a zone inside the living room, but nothing beeps whenever my ear gets near. What’s left is the fire alarm on the ceiling, beyond my reach. Maybe that is the source? Half an hour later, a nurse comes for my grandma’s medicine.)

Dad: “Excuse me, miss. My daughter is hearing a beep and I can’t hear it. Could you listen if you hear a beep, as well? She thought it could be from the fire alarm?”

Nurse: “What should I listen for?”

Me: “I’m not sure. It goes ‘beep-beep-beeeep,’ but never regularly. It sometimes reminds me of a microphone getting close to a speaker.”

(We are silent and the nurse nods. She confirms she hears the beeps, as well. She looks around and walks to the table. She picks something up.)

Nurse: “Is it gone now?”

Me: “Yes! What was it?!”

Nurse: “Your grandmother’s hearing aids. They were still on and too close to each other.”

At Least Her Heart Was In It
Canada, Cousins, Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Ontario, Stupid | Healthy | May 24, 2019
I was a pre-teen when I was sent to the local hospital with what started as pneumonia, but we quickly discovered I had a host of heart problems. My doctors were debating putting me on the transplant list, or waiting until I could do open heart surgery. I spent about two months in the hospital the first time.

Many of my family and friends were incredibly supportive. They sent get-well cards, comic books, food, and gift cards for the family, and some even came across the country to help with the house. But one cousin, in her 30s, was a bit clueless on the wonderful world of cardiac diseases.

A month into my stay, I received a gift basket from my cousin and her husband. In it, there were Pringles, pretzels, chips, pop, and a note asking us to visit her if we were ever in her state. We don’t know if it was a clerical error or her thinking a preteen loves these foods — which I did, when they didn’t almost kill me.

We laugh about it now, and whenever someone is sick in the family, I always think of the “deliberate cardiac arrest” gift basket.

The Sub Is Sub Standard
Lazy/Unhelpful, New Jersey, Nurses, School, USA | Healthy | May 24, 2019
(I am in fifth grade, about ten years old. We are learning to play basketball in gym class, which is more or less just dribbling and passing. One of the boys in class decides, for whatever reason, to deliberately chuck a basketball full-force at my face. It hits me VERY hard in the jaw, and I hear and feel a loud snap in my mouth. The boy is made to run laps for the remainder of class while I am sent to the nurse’s office. Normally our nurse is great, and she knows me well because I am sick fairly often due to a weak immune system, but unfortunately, she is out today and we have a substitute.)

Me: *timidly* “Excuse me.”

Sub Nurse: *rudely and without looking up from her trashy “women’s interests” magazine* “What?”

Me: “Um, I got hit in the mouth during gym and I think I broke a tooth.”

Sub Nurse: *still not looking up* “You’re fine. Go back to class.”

Me: “But it hit really hard and I felt something crack. I really think my tooth is broken.”

Sub Nurse: *STILL not looking up* “You’re fine. Now go away!”

Me: “But you didn’t even look!”

Sub Nurse: *FINALLY looking up at me, glaring* “God, I am so sick of you kids making up stupid excuses just to get out of class for a few minutes! There’s nothing wrong with you. Now get back to class and stop bothering me!”

(I’m an extremely shy, mild-mannered child and I don’t know what to do, so I leave. Gym class is the second class of the day, meaning I spend the better part of three hours with a bruised jaw and a broken tooth. Finally, it is time to go home and I tell my mom what happened. She looks at my tooth, confirms it is broken, and takes me to the dentist, who easily removes the pieces of my tooth with a piece of gauze.)

Dentist: “Wow, you didn’t just break this; you snapped it clean in half! What happened, hun?”

Me: “A boy in gym class hit me in the face with a basketball.”

Dentist: *sympathetically* “Yeah, boys are dumb at your age. But why didn’t you go to the school nurse?”

Me: “I did. She wasn’t in, and the sub told me I was fine and to go away and stop bothering her. She didn’t even look at my tooth.”

Dentist: *silent for a moment* “I see. What school do you go to again?”

Me: “[Middle School].”

Dentist: “Okay. Well, here’s your tooth, [My Name]. I’m sure the Tooth Fairy will give you something a little extra, considering the circumstances.”

(The dentist gave a knowing smile to my mom, who smiled back. The next day at school the regular nurse was back and she apologized for what the sub had done. Apparently, my dentist had called the school after Mom and I left his office and told the principal what had happened. Mom got a VERY apologetic phone call from the principal!)

Their Long Distance Wires Got Crossed
California, Medical Office, Nurses, Stupid, USA | Healthy | May 23, 2019
(I am visiting a family planning clinic to get on birth control.)

Staff: “So, other than regulating your menstrual cycle, why are you going onto birth control if you’re not sexually active?”

Me: “I’m in a long distance relationship and my boyfriend is coming to spend two weeks straight with me. So, naturally, I want to be smart.”

(The staff member frowns, looks blank, and then discusses the side effects of the protections.)

Staff: “So, why do you want the [protections] again? You told us you’re not currently sexually active.”

Me: *pause* “Because… I am in a long distance relationship and my boyfriend will be visiting soon.”

(The staff member stares at my file, still looking blank.)

Me: *thinking* “Oh, my God, why is she not getting this?!”

Staff: “So, you still haven’t explained why you want to be on the [protection]. Is it because you want to regulate your menstrual cycle, and that’s it?”

Me: “Yes, I did tell you why. I told you twice.”

Staff: “And?”

Me: *face-palming* “My boyfriend is coming to visit.”

Staff: *still looks blank* “But you’re not sexually active?”

Me: “You know what? I give up. Write whatever the heck you want in my chart.”

Staff: “I can’t write whatever I want; I need an actual reason.”

Me: “I AM NOT SEXUALLY ACTIVE RIGHT NOW, BUT I AM GOING TO BE SEXUALLY ACTIVE WITH MY BOYFRIEND WHILE HE VISITS!”

Staff: “So, you just want to regulate your menstrual cycle, since you’re not sexually active?”

Me: “Okay, I’m done with this nonsense. I’m going to a different [Clinic]…”

(Funnily enough, the next nearest clinic caught on the first time I mentioned my boyfriend, and I got my protections right away. When I looked back on it later, I could kind of understand someone having difficulties with a patient who is merely implying rather than outright stating, but at the point that I baldly stated my intentions, it should have clicked.)

A Truly Laborious Line Of Questioning
Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Jerk, Nurses, UK | Healthy | May 23, 2019
(My sister has recently gone into labour. I have come to the hospital to drop off some things she forgot to pack. As I head into her room, I hear her screaming.)

Sister: “I’M IN LABOUR! WHAT DO YOU THINK?!”

(I see she has been screaming at a nurse. The nurse blushes and runs out.)

Me: “What was that about?”

Sister: “She walks in and looks at my records, then asks, ‘Is it possible you’re pregnant?’ I ask her if she’s joking and she starts scolding me for being insensitive to pregnant women. We’re on a f****** maternity ward!”

(I burst out laughing, and after a while, my sister did, as well. The head nurse dropped by later to apologise for the nurse’s behaviour. My sister would have been fine with it and apologised, too, until the head nurse let slip that the nurse refused to even acknowledge that her question was in bad taste given her location and the context, and threatened to have my sister removed for abusive behaviour. I saw the nurse again later, complaining to a cashier in the cafe about having to help stroke victims bathe.)

What Kills You In Vegas Kills You Everywhere
Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada, Non-Dialogue, Patients, Stupid, Tourists/Travel, USA | Healthy | May 22, 2019
I work for a hotel in Las Vegas. While working security one night, I am sent up to a guest’s room who is having an allergic reaction. I arrive and the man is in a pretty bad way. He has his shirt off, his chest is covered with hives, and his throat is closing so fast he can’t speak and soon may not even be able to breathe.

I call for the paramedics and they arrive fairly quickly. They give the man a shot, and his allergy symptoms quickly begin to get better. When he can finally speak, one paramedic asks if the man is allergic to any kind of food. The man admits he’s severely allergic to shellfish. The paramedic then asks if the man has eaten any shellfish lately. The man then says, “I just came back from a seafood buffet and ate a lot of it because it doesn’t count when you’re in Vegas.”

So many people see the city slogan, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” and think Las Vegas is some kind of negative zone where anything you do

Unable To Identify The Issue Is Not About Identity
Funny Names, Ignoring & Inattentive, Therapist, USA | Healthy | May 22, 2019
(I am at a therapist’s office for my first appointment with her. She is not my first therapist, so I have a fairly good idea of what to look for. My name has a very common nickname — I’ll pretend it’s Katelyn and Kate — and people will often start using the nickname without thinking. I am called back to meet with her.)

Therapist: “So, Katelyn, do you prefer Katelyn or Kate?”

Me: “I don’t care; either is fine.”

Therapist: “But which one do you prefer?”

Me: “I mean, when I’m in a situation where there’s someone whose actual name is Kate, I prefer to use Katelyn so people don’t get confused. But other than that, I really don’t care.”

Therapist: “Your name is an important part of your self-identity. I want to respect that. Which name do you want me to use?”

Me: *quite frustrated by now* “I don’t care! Either one is fine! You can call me Kate, you can call me Katelyn, or you can switch back and forth; it doesn’t matter!”

(She still didn’t get it. Somehow I made it through the rest of the appointment, but I never went back there. As a therapist, listening is a hugely important part of your job. If you won’t listen to me about something as simple as my name, I’m not going to trust you to listen to me at all.)

Painkillers Morphing Into Something Else
California, Hospital, Nurses, Stupid, USA | Healthy | May 21, 2019
(During an annual summer trip to California, I start having abdominal pains. My dad brings me to a local clinic, and from there I get directed to the ER because of possible appendicitis. Once there, they hook me up to an IV. I’m a little paranoid around needles, so I ask them what exactly they’re putting in the IV. I also happen to have a fear of inebriation, as well as a fear of being forcibly injected with addictive drugs.)

Nurse: “Saline fluids and some morphine.”

Me: “Morphine? Why morphine?”

Nurse: “You said you were in pain.”

Me: “I am, but I don’t think it’s extreme enough to justify morphine!”

Nurse: “Okay, we can take the morphine out. You’re sure you don’t need any painkillers?”

Me: “I mean, some painkillers would be nice, but not something that extreme.”

Nurse: “Well, we can give you the morphine if you want.”

Me: “No morphine!”

Nurse: “So, you don’t need painkillers?”

(This conversation repeats a few times before I eventually tell her I don’t need painkillers and let her hook me up to the saline fluids. Some time passes, and eventually, another nurse comes to check on me.)

Nurse #2 : “And have you had any painkillers?”

Me: “Well, they kept offering me morphine, but I didn’t want that. It seems a little extreme.”

Nurse #2 : “Wait, so, no one offered you any Tylenol?”

Me: “No!”

(The second nurse brought me some Tylenol, and that did seem to help, but I will forever be confused about the first nurse who seemed to think that morphine was the only painkiller in existence.)

Pregnant With An Angry Appendix
Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Lazy/Unhelpful, Missouri, Nurses, USA | Healthy | May 21, 2019
(I am 19 years old and I’ve been experiencing intense pain and vomiting bile all night. I go to urgent care and am diagnosed with appendicitis and given pain meds before being transported to the hospital around 11:00 am.)

ER Nurse: “We need to give you an MRI. Take this pregnancy test, and then we can figure out what’s going on.”

Mom: “She has already been diagnosed with appendicitis at urgent care; they called and we are here for treatment.”

ER Nurse: “Well, they can only diagnose, not treat, so we need you to take the tests.”

Mom: “She will not take the tests again. You need to look in your files and find the test results they sent over.”

(I ended up going into surgery at almost 10:00 pm after being in even worse pain all day, with no meds because I wasn’t in a room but in the waiting room. I was released at 9:00 am the next day, went septic that night, and spent another three days in the hospital. We later learned that my appendix had ruptured while I was waiting and they still sent me home.)

Let’s Hope His Brother Isn’t A Doctor
Doctor/Physician, Funny Names, Kansas, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | May 20, 2019
(My nana takes me to my doctor for the first time in a couple of years. The doctor is Indian, with an Indian accent and an Indian surname that starts with “Mu.”)

Nana: “Thank you, Dr. Mufasa! Oh…”

(Luckily, the doctor thought it was hilarious, and we joked that she must get that a lot from kids since she’s also a pediatrician.)

Bringing Professionalism To Its Knees
Australia, Bizarre, Editors' Choice, Health & Body, Medical Office, Patients, Queensland | Healthy | May 20, 2019
(I’m a young adult woman about to have my first gynaecological examination. I have no idea what I’m doing, so my doctor is walking me through it step by step. For reference, the examination table is quite narrow to allow for easy movement around it.)

Doctor: “We need you to lie back on the table with your feet at the end, and then spread your knees. Keep your feet together. Then cover yourself with the towel and let me know you’re ready.”

(She turns away to put on gloves, and I have a moment of doubt.)

Me: “Uh, how far apart do you want my knees?”

Doctor: “As far as you can.”

(I shrug and obey, following her instructions. A moment later, the doctor turns back around and I get to enjoy a moment of bug-eyed shock before professionalism covers it.)

Me: “I used to be a gymnast.”

Doctor: “Maybe not quite that far, [My Name].”

(I had dropped my knees below the level of the table with no effort or strain. Turned out she wanted something closer to a 90-degree angle. It did teach her to be more specific with instructions in the future, though!)

The Weighting Room
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Illinois, Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, USA | Healthy | May 19, 2019
I was taking in my two-week-old baby for her checkup. My husband and older son were with me since we had another errand to run before heading home. My clinic had recently moved to a bigger location a few blocks away from their old location and had new equipment recently unpacked.

I gently placed my baby, born 7 lbs and 12 oz, on the scale. She left the hospital weighing 7 lbs 6 oz, which is normal since their weight fluctuates after birth. The scale showed 7 lbs 3 oz. My husband and I were baffled, since the baby was practically breastfed every hour and if she wasn’t sleeping she was eating. She was also way heavier than at birth.

The doctor began setting me up for weigh-in appointments with a nurse, while I began to panic and doubt about my breastfeeding capabilities.

My husband is a “fixer.” He can’t help it and is constantly fixing things at home or improving them, so, of course, he began fiddling with the baby scale when the doctor briefly left the room which, in addition to my panicked state, started to annoy me. That’s when he pulled out two pieces of foam from under the scale that were clearly part of the packaging from when it was moved from the other clinic. The doctor came back and was stunned. We weighed the baby again and she was 8 lbs, 6 oz. The doctor had a stunned look in his eyes as he checked us out, and I can just imagine the panic as he thought back to how many babies had been weighed on a scale that hadn’t been properly set up.

The Ugly Mouth Is The One With The Ugly Words
Dentist, Germany, Jerk | Healthy | May 18, 2019
(As a teenager I had braces that were – in some way – done incorrectly and over the course of the treatment the enamel of my teeth started to deteriorate. Since I was a quiet and shy teenager, I didn’t speak out and got in a somewhat vicious cycle of dental hygiene since properly cleaning my teeth started to hurt. After a while, I even stopped going to the dentist because I was so ashamed. However, in my twenties, I start seeing an amazing dentist who is very empathetic and doesn’t judge. Session by session, we start ironing things out, but for a very special procedure, he transfers me to a dental surgeon. This takes place at my first appointment before she even takes a look at my teeth.)

Dentist: “Hello, [My Name]. Nice to meet you! May I ask: how old are you?”

Me: “Hi… Um… I’m 24. Why?”

Dentist: “Yeah, I thought so. But from your x-rays, I’d guessed you would be 60.”

Me: *embarrassed* “Yeah, I know. But I try to contain the damage now.”

Dentist: “You’ve got to start cleaning your teeth better!”

Me: “I’m cleaning them at least twice a day now. If you take a look you’ll see. I really started taking dental hygiene very seriously and trying to save what can be saved. But the damage has been done. Still, I really clean my teeth.”

Dentist: “Don’t give me that spiel. I’ve seen how many fillings you have. You do a terrible job of keeping your teeth healthy.”

Me: *miserable* “Yes. I’m very sorry. I know.”

Dentist: “You know how ugly such teeth are, right? You’re 24. Probably looking for a nice girl to marry someday. But I’m gonna tell you right now: with those teeth, you’ll never find a girl!

Me: *on the verge of tears* “I’m really trying to take better care. [Dentist] always told me I’m really doing a good job now. I haven’t had a new cavity in two years.”

Dentist: “Well, I don’t care. Your mouth is ugly. And you’re probably gonna die alone with such bad mouth hygiene. Now, go make an appointment with my receptionist for next month so we can start making you look human again.”

(I didn’t want to object to her, but I didn’t make an appointment and even almost quit the ongoing procedures with my regular dentist. He had to talk to me for an hour until I was ready to keep going. He also said he wouldn’t transfer patients to this dental surgeon anymore.)

This Vet Is Worming His Way Around Your Cat
Bad Behavior, Canada, Doctor/Physician, Ontario, Vet | Healthy | May 17, 2019
(I set up an appointment for my cat to get his annual exam and vaccines at the vet clinic that my boyfriend and I have been taking him to since we first brought him home at three months old. He is now two-and-a-half years old, meaning with all his kitten appointments — booster shots, sterilization, etc. — we have taken him in a total of seven times prior to this. Up until this point, we have always seen the same vet, and our cat is very comfortable with her, often purring through his appointments. The day before the appointment, I get a phone call:)

Receptionist: “Hi, [My Name]! I’m calling to confirm [Cat]’s appointment for tomorrow at [time two-and-a-half hours later than the appointment was scheduled for].”

Me: “Um, I scheduled that appointment for [appointment time].”

Receptionist: “We don’t have any slots available at [time]. We can try to fit you in between appointments, but I can’t guarantee time for a full exam and vaccines.”

Me: “I scheduled this appointment weeks ago, even picking a later date, because [time] worked best with my boyfriend’s schedule and he’s the only one who drives. There’s no way you can give me the time my appointment was scheduled for?”

Receptionist: “I have it in my system that your appointment was scheduled for [two-and-a-half hours later].”

Me: “Whatever, I’ll take it, I guess. I want to stress though that I would never have picked an appointment that late; there’s no way this error was on my end.”

Receptionist: “Okay, well, don’t forget to bring in a fecal sample.”

Me: “Fecal sample? We’ve never had to bring a fecal sample before.”

Receptionist: “It’s a standard part of every annual physical.”

Me: “It’s not going to cost anything extra, is it? I just moved two weeks ago, and it cost more than I’d thought, so my money’s pretty tight for the rest of the month. I can’t afford to pay anymore than what I am for the physical and vaccines.”

Receptionist: “It’s a standard part of every physical; don’t worry.”

(Luckily, my boyfriend is able to move some things around so I don’t have to take the cat on the bus to get to the appointment. We get to the appointment and discover that the vet our cat has seen since his very first appointment is not the vet he will be seeing this time. The vet who examines our cat seems incredibly underqualified, and much more concerned about selling us products we do not need than about the health and wellbeing of our cat. It’s worth noting here that while he is technically a Domestic Short Hair, we’re reasonably certain our cat has some Bengal in him, due to his size. He measures around three feet long, which is double the average length for a DSH. After weighing our cat:)

Vet: “He weighs 15 pounds!”

Me: “Well, he is pretty big, so that’s not too surprising; that’s only a couple pounds more than I thought.”

Vet: “He needs to lose weight! He should be an eight-pound cat! What are you guys feeding him?!” *looking at boyfriend*

Boyfriend: “He lives with her, so she can answer that better than I can.”

Me: “Up until two weeks ago he was on [Brand] dry food, which I found gave him that little bit of pudge on his tummy, but he only gained about a pound or two. I would have changed his food, but my old roommate had a cat with a really sensitive stomach, and her cat couldn’t handle the food we had [Cat] on. When I moved I changed him to [Cetter Crand], and he’s been doing a lot better on it. He also gets one can of wet food each night, but we don’t have a strict brand for that; it’s just to make sure he gets enough water, since he’s pretty bad at drinking enough.”

Vet: “Do you free-feed him?”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, we always have.”

Me: “It’s monitored free-feeding, though, now. My old roommate like to truly free-feed, but I always make sure to track how much he’s eating. He always has food in his bowl, but I measure it and make sure he’s only getting two servings of dry food, and his one serving of wet food.”

Vet: “You need to stop free-feeding. He only needs three servings of food a day.”

Me: “As I said, I measure his food. He’s always been a grazer, though, so putting him on a feeding schedule won’t work, because he only eats a few bites at a time. It takes him anywhere from 8 to 12 hours to empty his bowl.”

Vet: “Well, it might be hard at first, but eventually he’ll learn that if he doesn’t eat when the food goes out, he won’t eat at all.”

Me: “No, I’m not doing that to my cat. He’s not that pudgy, and aside from that, I just adopted a second cat, and she also free-feeds. It’s working really well, considering she needs a smaller serving size, and quite frankly, they both undereat anyway.”

(The vet then spends another ten minutes scolding us for letting our cat get so “horrifically overweight,” and trying to sell us a specialty diet food that is way out of our price range. She finally gives up when my boyfriend and I start getting snappy with her.)

Vet: “Okay, how has [Cat]’s behaviour been lately?”

Me: “As I mentioned a few minutes ago, I just adopted a second cat three days ago, so right now they’re having their territory and dominance disputes. Before that, though, there was nothing out of the ordinary.”

Vet: *reaches into cupboard and pulls out a spray bottle* “You should try this; it’s a synthetic pheromone that mimics the one mother cats let off to calm down kittens. It can help with the fighting if the cats aren’t getting along.”

Me: “Thanks, but I’m not going to bother right now. I don’t really have the money for that, and it’s only been three days. When [Cat] was introduced to my old roommate’s cats, it took him about a week to adjust. If it goes on longer than that, then we’ll look into it.”

(The vet then spends another five minutes trying to pressure us into buying the spray, and implying that the two cats should be best friends by this point.)

Vet: “Have you had [Cat] treated for fleas?”

Me: “Yes! Because I was moving, and my old roommate was having someone take my room, who has her own cat, we treated all the cats in the apartment over the two weeks before I left. His last treatment was the day before I left, and that should have prevented him from getting anything during the move, as well.”

Vet: “You did just bring a new cat home, though. Was she treated?”

Me: “Yes, the shelter treated her shortly before we adopted her. I also looked her over a couple times to be sure.”

Vet: “Well, they should each be treated at least one more time before winter. I can do a course of [High-End Brand] treatment for [astronomically high price], if you want to set an appointment for that.”

Me: “No, thank you. They’re both indoor cats and only go outside on the leash occasionally in the summer. When they do, I give them a preventative OTC treatment from [Pet Store], and I check them to be safe. I also do a couple preventative treatments if they haven’t gone outside, just in case something makes it into the building, because he sometimes runs into the hallway.”

(Cue more selling pressure, and scolding. By the time that finishes, we are half an hour into the appointment, and the only part of the exam she’s done is weighing the cat. She finally starts the rest of the exam, and we notice right away that she isn’t handling our cat properly at all. She has made no effort to get him comfortable with her; instead she is flipping between being overly hesitant and grabbing him roughly. He starts to get defensive, trying to jump off the table, and even baring his teeth at her, which is incredibly out of character. He’s a very social, non-aggressive cat, usually. I try to comfort him.)

Vet: “Stay out of the way.” *shoos me back*

(The vet skips half his exam, refusing to go near his mouth or paws, and not offering us any information on his health. When the exam finishes and the vaccination is completed, it is time to pay for the visit. The total was much higher than we anticipated, even with estimating higher than last year’s physical and vaccination.)

Me: “Why is it so much?”

Receptionist: “That’s because the fecal sample is an additional charge.”

Me: “You mean the fecal sample I was told was ‘standard for an annual exam,’ and led to believe was included in the price? It’s only a few dollars less than the exam was!”

(At this point, our cat was angry, stressed, and trying to claw his way out of his carrier, so we swallowed our anger and paid in the interest of getting our cat home as quickly as possible. It took me 20 minutes to convince my boyfriend — who hadn’t been able to make any of the previous vet appointments — that that is not how they usually go, and that the old vet would have been done the exam in the time this one spend scolding us and trying to sell us things. It took an additional 20 minutes to calm our cat down. The fecal test results came back the next day and I was informed it was ringworm, then given information that contradicted that diagnosis. I took both of our cats to a different vet a few days later, and upon explaining to the new vet what happened, he was appalled. He took extra care to make sure both cats were comfortable, especially before going near their tummies. When he received the fecal test results from the first clinic, I was informed it was actually roundworm and had probably come from one of the other cats at the shelter. I had them treated immediately and confirmed with the veterinarian that had we treated them for the original diagnosis, it would have done nothing to help, as ringworm is a fungal infection, whereas roundworm is a parasite. Ultimately, it worked out for the best, because we found a vet who truly cares about the wellbeing of our cats. And the cats, for the record, are best friends now, no synthetic pheromone spray needed.)

Desperately Looking For A Positive
Bigotry, Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | May 16, 2019
(I have gone to the GP with recurring dizziness. The doctor is new and we have never met prior to today. I am male.)

Doctor: *feeling the underneath of my jaw* “How long have you experienced dizziness?”

Me: “About three weeks. I think it might be an inner ear infection, but I don’t have any other symptoms.”

Doctor: “I see, and does it…”

(His eyes narrow onto my chest tattoo.)

Doctor: “You have tattoos?”

Me: “Just this one.”

Doctor: “Hmm, it’s possible this could be HIV and/or AIDS.”

Me: “WHAT?!”

Doctor: “It’s a pretty serious condition which can spread from infected needles.”

Me: “I know what it is. It just surprises me that you think dizziness and a tattoo would make you jump to HIV. This is a twenty-odd-year-old tattoo by the way.”

Doctor: “Hmm… Your medical history shows you have had STI tests before, and with your lifestyle—“

Me: “My ‘lifestyle’ has nothing to do with this, if I get your meaning.” *assumes he has seen my husband listed as my next of kin in my records* “And I have only had one STI test in my life, which was done as part of a sexual health class when I was at college. Now, HIV usually begins to show signs within ten years of contracting it. My tattoo is over twenty years old, and my STI test was what, ten years ago? I do not have HIV.”

(The doctor begrudgingly agreed with my defense and checked my ears. He found nothing and arranged a set of tests for me. I went to my appointment with my husband as I was a little shaken by the experience, and the first thing they asked us was if we had ever been sexually active with each other and how long I had suspected having HIV. The doctor decided to put me down for the test regardless of what I said. Once we explained the situation, the nurses apologised, but in the end, I agreed to take the test to learn more about it. My husband took it, too, to be a good sport. While stressful, it was a jovial experience. A week later, we both went to our GP to find out our results — mostly mine. We had the same doctor as I’d had the first time. It turns out I had a potassium deficiency which was causing my blood pressure to fluctuate while I was standing. Our HIV tests came back negative, but this didn’t stop the doctor belittling us and our “lifestyle” for a good ten minutes while going over the results. We complained about him and he was gone by my next visit. I later heard he was also judgemental with the minority population, and had submitted more requests for HIV testing than the rest of the practice combined.)

Night Nurse, The Pain Is Getting Worse
Canada, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Lazy/Unhelpful, Nurses | Healthy | May 15, 2019
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I am a 22-year-old female and have always had problems with my feet, which are completely flat and also wide. I’ve been having intense pain in my left foot for a few years, and not one doctor or specialist I’ve gone to has had an explanation. Finally, I am told by a foot surgeon that I have a deformity in both feet that has caused arthritis and is the reason I am unable to walk properly. I am advised to have two metal screws implanted in my left foot to alleviate the pain and hopefully correct the structure of my foot. I go in for surgery and this happens when I stay overnight after the operation. “Nurse” is my day nurse and “Night Nurse” is the nurse assigned to give me the pain medication during the night.)

Nurse: “I’m going to take your vitals and let you get some rest. Your night nurse will come in to give you the pain medication soon. Can you swallow pills?”

(I tell her I can and expect to have no problems. Boy, am I wrong. Over the course of the night, I am pretty loopy from the anesthesia and all I want to do is sleep. A night nurse comes in to take my vitals again sometime in the night and says someone else will give me pain medication later. This repeats for some time with her and one other nurse until the morning, where I’ve recovered enough to realize I am in intense pain and nobody has given me the pain medication I need. Early the next morning, I am exhausted and crying from the pain when my parents come to see me.)

Mom: “What happened?! Why are you crying?!”

Me: *crying* “I’ve been up almost all night and nobody gave me pain medication!”

Mom & Dad: “WHAT?!”

(They track down a nurse and repeat what I’ve said.)

Nurse: “Um, a night nurse would have given you medication. You’re supposed to take it every three hours.”

Me: “Well, no one gave me anything. They woke me up to take my vitals several times and that was it!”

Nurse: “I’m going to look into this. Let me talk to the other nurses.”

(She leaves for a bit, then comes back with the night nurse who I recognize from last night. They both don’t look happy.)

Night Nurse: “We gave you medication last night. You just don’t remember it.”

Me: “You and some other nurse woke me up to take my vitals and said someone else will give me the medication. If I took the medication, I wouldn’t be in so much pain!”

Nurse: *hands me a pill bottle* “Just to make sure, these are what you’re supposed to take. Have you had these at all?”

Me: “No! I haven’t taken any pills!”

Night Nurse: “Well, did you tell someone that you needed it?”

(My parents and the other nurse just stare at her in disbelief.)

Mom: “Of course she needs it! You’re in charge of making sure she gets the medication on time!”

Night Nurse: *snotty* “She’s a big girl. She has to tell us if she needs it or not!”

(My nurse rushes the night nurse out before the situation escalates. My parents are furious and my nurse is also frustrated. I’m angry, too, of course, but more exhausted, and I just want to go home to recover in peace.)

Nurse: “I am so sorry. I had no idea this happened. There is no excuse for that. You are absolutely right: the night staff is responsible to get you that medication and they should have been keeping an eye on you.”

Me: “Can I just go home? I really don’t want to be here anymore…”

Nurse: “Unfortunately, now that I know you haven’t had any medication, I have to keep you here to catch up on the doses. I can’t send you home until I get this in your system and make sure you’re okay.”

(I was more upset by this, but I knew she had to do her job and didn’t say anything else. Over the next few hours, I was finally given the pain medication and I basically slept all day until she told me I could go home in the evening. Thanks to the night nurse’s negligence, I had to keep taking the medication for an extra few days until the pain got under control. We filed an official complaint against the nurse, but nothing has happened so far.)

Coughing Up A Better Diagnosis
Colorado, Denver, Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | May 14, 2019
(I have a history of coughing up blood for no particular reason. Despite a lack of a diagnosis explaining why it happens, it has happened three times. Two out of the three times, it was copious amounts. The first time, it happened when I was 16 and within a few hours, I had coughed up several cups before I was able to get to a hospital. A vein in my right lung had burst! The docs never figured out why it happened, but it happened again when I was 18. Fortunately, it was only a few mouthfuls – it ended up just being a busted capillary. Then, it happens again when I am 22. I have dealt with multiple nurses and doctors in the ER down the street telling me I am probably just exaggerating, which is incredibly infuriating. To prove that I am telling the truth, I begin to collect the blood by spitting it into a container and keeping the container in the fridge. It’s disgusting. Between Wednesday afternoon and Friday morning, I have coughed up and collected almost two cups of blood. I have a bronchoscopy at a different hospital go bad – a negative reaction to the light anesthesia they give me – so they send me back to the ER to be admitted. It is then that I deal with the most stuck up doctor in my life. I have no makeup on — obviously, who has time to worry about that when one’s life is possibly on the line? — and in the past that’s led people to mistake me for a high schooler more than once. It seems to fool this doctor, too, unfortunately. He approaches me with a haughty, unbelieving demeanor, and treats me like some sort of hysterical, loony teen. I start arguing with him about my honesty in the situation, and it begins to escalate to a frustrated yelling match. While I regret resorting to yelling at a doctor, I don’t regret how this ends. Not one bit. I finally reach a breaking point, yank my purse from my mother’s arms, shove the container of blood at the doctor, and scream.)

Me: “THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN COUGHING UP!”

(The doctor’s face goes completely white as he gapes at me, stares at the container, looks back at me, and takes it to run out of the room. Another doctor comes in right then, and the first doc grabs his arm to drag him out with him. They close the door behind them, but there is a huge window in the door, so I can see both of them holding up the container, arguing, and acting generally panicked. Join the club, dudes. When Doctor Jerkface comes back in, he has a huge change in attitude; he’s now sweet, attentive, and eager to help.)

Doctor: “All right, honey, don’t you worry. We’re going to admit you to the ICU right away. We’re going to take care of you and figure out why this is happening.”

(I let myself become the smug jerk in the room and give him a victorious smirk.)

Me: “You’re d*** right, you’re going to.”

It’s Their First Time Or It’s Going To Be A Big Baby
Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Non-Dialogue, Northern Ireland, Reception, UK | Healthy | May 13, 2019
Several years ago I had a summer job working as a clerical officer in an NHS Hospital. One of my reception duties involved checking patients into the antenatal clinics. The receptionist explained to me that when patients arrived for the clinic I had to take their name, and if it was their first appointment, I had to write “no file” on their letter and bring it down to the nursing station. Women who had previously been to the clinic did have a file, so I had to pull out their file, check their details were correct, and bring the file down to the nursing station.

The receptionist showed me how to do the first few arrivals and then said I could take over. The next patient arrived for her antenatal appointment. I smiled at her and her husband, greeted them warmly, and the woman handed me her appointment letter. “Okay, Mrs. [Patient],” I said, trying to appear professional. “Is this your first appointment?”

The woman looked surprised and glanced down at her belly. “No…” she said. She was quite large by this stage! Her husband just smiled, clearly amused. “Oh… Sorry!” I stammered, then retrieved her file, checked her details, and asked her to take a seat in the waiting area. As she and her husband walked off, the receptionist leaned over to me. “Yeah, it’ll be obvious to you if it’s their first appointment!” she said, smiling. I apologised again, but the receptionist told me not to worry, as we all make mistakes!

The receptionist went on holiday, and I managed to cover reception surprisingly well. And during the next three antenatal clinics, I never again made the mistake of asking a woman obviously in advanced stages of pregnancy if it was her first appointment!

“Women Troubles” Is NOT Women Causing Trouble
Australia, Bigotry, Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office | Healthy | May 11, 2019
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(From my first period at age 12, I have been having horrible pain with each menstruation. Several months later, the pain is so bad that I can’t stand. My mother is alarmed and takes me to the ED. They suspect appendicitis and operate, only to find a healthy appendix. I am referred to a gynaecologist.)

Gynaecologist #1 : “So, I hear you’ve had a bit of a sore tummy, huh?”

Me: “Yes, it really hurts, and I—“

Gynaecologist #1 : “Now, [My Name]. You’re grown up now. This is part of being a woman; you just have to put up with it, all right? Take some paracetamol when the pain starts and get on with it, all right?”

(I’m embarrassed to have caused such a fuss and take what he says to heart. For the next 12 years, I put up with horrendous, increasing pain, assuming all women go through it. Every cycle, without fail, I spend a minimum of 12 hours in such pain I am vomiting. It gets so that I am in pain all the time, even when I’m not menstruating. Finally, at 25, I have an epic period of 17 days of vomit-worthy pain. My parents convince me to go to the ED in my new city where I live.

The ED doctors give me a high dose of morphine and check for acute problems, then refer me to a gynaecologist. I am already convinced that this one will think I am wasting his time, too, and begin rehearsing apologies. Finally, I meet the new gynaecologist.)

Gynaecologist #2 : “So, I hear you’ve been sore?”

Me: “Yes…” *describes situation*

Gynaecologist #2 : “Can I feel your stomach? Hmm. Okay, I’m not going to, but if I pressed hard, would it hurt?”

Me: “Yes.”

Gynaecologist #2 : *taking his hand away* “Does it hurt now?”

Me: “Yes.”

(The gynaecologist went a little grim and told me that I needed an operation immediately. He fit me in the following week and ended up excising a LOT of tissue. It turned out that I had a condition that caused infertility if it was untreated, and the main symptom was immense pain. Luckily, the disease hadn’t yet damaged my tubes so I can still conceive naturally. With medication to manage ovulation and possibly more operations should the tissue regrow, I should be completely healthy. Most importantly, I’m not in constant pain. How lucky that I found a doctor who knew that “women troubles” was no longer a proper medical diagnosis!)