Bleeding Puns
Hospital, Iowa, Punny, USA | Healthy | November 20, 2017
(I’m in the ER with some potential heart issues. At one point, I get a very nice lady in to draw some blood, and she’s joined by a coworker who’s about to go off shift. My elbow veins aren’t cooperating, so I have to get blood drawn from the back of my hand as well. It goes faster after that, and soon, the lady who’s leaving heads out, then pokes her head back in the door.)

Phlebotomist: “Thanks for letting me stick around!”

(My mom and I couldn’t stop laughing. Definitely made the whole visit bearable!)

MRI = Milk Restrictive Invention
Australia, Hospital, New South Wales, Sydney | Healthy | November 20, 2017
(It took my husband and me several years to conceive. I wasn’t overly impressed with my induced labour of 48 hours that resulted in emergency C-section, and I struggle with breastfeeding that can’t be resolved by any method. I am feeling pretty down about not being able to do anything unassisted and am not 100% happy about having to top up every meal with formula but I am determined to keep going with breastfeeding. I’ll admit this is probably out of stubbornness, but it means a lot to me. Meanwhile, I have to have an MRI that I had to reschedule while pregnant and when I make the appointment, I ask if it is safe while breastfeeding. I am assured it is and though I am dubious, I will admit that I don’t look into it further, assuming they know better than I do. The appointment comes up and I leave my six-week-old baby for the first time with my husband and drive myself (also for the first time since the operation) to the radiologist.)

Receptionist: “Yes?”

Me: “Hello, I have an appointment for an MRI. My name is [My Name].”

Receptionist: “Here.”

(She thrusts paperwork at me. I fill it out, listing my allergies and so on, and note that there’s a question asking if I might be pregnant or breastfeeding. I put a tick next to it and finish the form. Handing it back to the receptionist, I ask about the question. She says it’s fine and tells me to sit down. Since I am the last patient of the day, I am taken in before I have a chance to ask her more and I figure it’s better to ask the tech anyway. The radiologist technician glances briefly at my form and sprints off down the corridor with me struggling to keep up. He obviously wants to get out for the day because he’s saying all his introductory explanation spiel to me similar to the squirrel from Hoodwinked. When he comes up for air, I manage to talk.)

Me: “The form asked me if I am breastfeeding.”

Tech: *casually* “Yes, you can’t breastfeed.”

Me: *thinking over his poor choice of words*

Tech: “…are you breastfeeding?”

Me: “Yes, I am breastfeeding. I did ask about this when I booked the appointment. They said it’s fine.”

Tech: “We have to put the dye in you and it’s toxic so you can’t breastfeed for three days after the MRI.”

Me: “That doesn’t explain why they didn’t tell me this when I booked.”

Tech: *looks confused*

Me: “I asked reception today, too. She said it’s fine.”

Tech: “What would they know?”

Me: “Actually, I’d imagine they’d know who can and cannot come for an MRI since it’s their job to book and take appointments.”

Tech: “Oh, yeah, probably then. Well, I can’t answer for them but the dye is toxic. You can’t breastfeed for three days. So just don’t breastfeed and you’ll be all right.”

Me: “That’s okay. I will just reschedule.”

Tech: “Can’t you just stop for a few days?”

Me: *feeling pretty crappy* “I am sorry but I can’t just casually stop breastfeeding.”

Tech: “Just breastfeed more and store up milk for three days.”

Me: “…”

Tech: *cheerfully* “You know you can freeze it, right?”

Me: “It would take me at least a month to build up three days worth.”

Tech: “Okay, we’ll reschedule for a month. That will give you time.”

Me: “…”

Tech: *getting irritated* “Or, just go buy formula. It’s really not that bad.”

Me: “Of course formula isn’t bad, but that’s not the point. If I stop I might not be able to keep going at all.”

Tech: *getting angry* “Then go buy a pump and just throw it away for three days. But make sure you wash it properly because it’s toxic.”

(I am thinking this is not his business and I don’t want to talk about it, but also as I am now teetering on a cliff between furious and devastated, I go on.)

Me: “I need to physically feed her and I can’t just stop. Yes, I pump, but I need to do both. It’s not your business but I have been through too much to throw it away casually like you want me to. Forget the MRI. I am leaving.”

Tech: *cheerful as his workday has ended sooner than he expected* “No worries. We can book you in when you’re ready.”

Me: “Thanks, but I will go somewhere else, with properly trained staff who know what services they can and cannot provide and give proper information in an understanding way, when I am no longer breastfeeding.”

(I was temporarily impressed with my own ability to string more that three words together because I never stick up for myself and I was shaking like a leaf, and I made my way back down the maze-like corridors without getting lost. I also managed to get my referral back from the receptionist who talked to the tech in front of me about how I couldn’t get the MRI because I am breastfeeding, to which the receptionist asked “so when do you want to rebook?” and I responded “like h*** I will be,” before leaving and getting in my car. I cried in the car and they never knew it. For that, I was thankful.)

Oh The Eye-rony
Canada, Marriage & Partners, Ontario, Optometrist/Optician, Toronto | Healthy | November 19, 2017
(I walk into my optometrist’s office and find a new secretary. I’m curious about what happened to “Jane,” the last one, especially since “Jane” and the doctor were married! I’m the only one in the office right now so I decide to be nosey:)

Me: *after the preliminary sign in conversation* “So, Jane is no longer here?”

New Secretary: “No, she’s gone.”

Me: “I’m surprised considering her relationship with the Doctor.”

New Secretary: “It was all very awkward, Jane needed to start wearing glasses but she refused to. The doctor had to fire her because she was giving out the wrong prescriptions to people and messing up things like that.”

Me: “Ooh, that’s not good. Wait, she was married to an optometrist and worked in an optometrist’s office and refused to wear glasses?”

New Secretary: “Yup. I shouldn’t say this but I believe it was a case of vanity gone wrong. They’re getting divorced now, too.”

Me: “Gee, I wonder why?”

Let’s Hope It Was A Clean Break
Australia, Home, Ignoring & Inattentive, Queensland | Healthy | November 18, 2017
(Our two storey house has a lot of windows, many of them quite high up, so we use a window cleaning service. We’ve used the same guy every time. One day, he brings a coworker with him. He introduces me to the coworker, who responds to my greeting by saying curtly:)

Coworker: “Yeah, hi. Where are your taps? We need to get started.”

(I’m working in my home office, which is upstairs. I see the ladder resting against the side of the house and our window cleaner ascending it. He gives me a friendly smile and wave and right then, the ladder wobbles and he falls. I race outside and he’s lying on the grass unconscious. I rush into the house for the phone and as I do, I pass the coworker.)

Me: “[Window Cleaner] has just fallen from his ladder; he’s out cold! I’m calling an ambulance!”

Coworker: “You do that.”

(He doesn’t make a move to check on his colleague; he just carries on cleaning. I call the ambulance and rush back outside.)

Me: “Didn’t you hear what I said? [Window Cleaner] has had a bad fall. Why aren’t you checking on him?”

Coworker: “You just said you’d called the ambulance. What do you want me to do about it? Do you want your windows cleaned or not?!”

(I’m not about to stand there arguing with him and I rush round the house to open the gate for the paramedics and to stay with my window cleaner until they arrive. As they are assessing him he starts to come round, but is later revealed to have a broken ankle, a broken collarbone, and a concussion. After the paramedics have taken him away, I go back to the coworker.)

Me: “I think he’ll be okay. They’ve taken him to [Hospital]. Shouldn’t you follow the ambulance or let his wife know or SOMETHING?”

Coworker: *after a long pause in which he just stares at me* “That’ll be $160.00.”

Using His Outdoor Voice Inside
Australia, Medical Office | Healthy | November 17, 2017
(I am opening the clinic, getting to work at 8:30 am when we open at 9:00 am. I am an avid believer of keeping the shutters closed and main lights off until I am completely ready to accept people. I leave the back-door unlocked for the remainder of staff to come in, as not everyone has a key. The back door has a ‘Staff Only’ sign. Walking around the department in the dark, paper-like bed sheets in my arms, I hear a strange yelling sound. Outside it is incredibly windy and the back door is unlocked so I assume it has something to do with that. While replacing toilet paper in the bathrooms, there is another yell. This time I poke my head out the back door and see nothing. I am finally behind the desk logging into the systems when a loud slamming sound makes me jump and in full view of the back room across the hall I see an unhappy older man march in. The lights are still off. The shutters out front are closed. There are no escape doors for me. The setting made it seem terrifying, but I really only stood there in shock. It is 8:40 am.)

Patient: *yelling as he walks up* “Your doors are closed! I have an appointment at nine!”

Me: “Y-Yes. We don’t open for another twenty minutes, sir.”

Patient: “I have an appointment! Do you expect me to wait outside in the cold? I’m not waiting outside!”

(I am still genuinely scared and consider calling the police because he is being very aggressive and I fear for my safety. Then I think, why is he not waiting in his car? Did he expect everyone to open twenty minutes early just because he was there?)

Me: “I’m not prepared to take anyone yet. That’s why everything is still closed. My computer hasn’t finished signing in.”

Patient: “FINE! I’ll wait here! I’m not waiting outside!”

(Still scared, but somewhat mad now, I left the desk and made myself busy. Then I went to the tea room and waited until 8:50. Meanwhile, the techs had come in with strange looks, wanting to know what the man’s situation was. After that, I returned, turned on the lights, and opened the shutters. His car was parked outside. Point of the story: patients genuinely scare staff when they get like this. When it comes to people’s health, they are capable of anything. I thought he was going to hit me!)

It’s Our Morning Period
Arizona, Medical Office, Phoenix, USA | Healthy | November 17, 2017
(Our office is only open a half-day on Friday. This takes place at about 11:00 am.)

Patient: “So, today is your half-day, right?”

Me: “Right; we’re only open half the day on Fridays.”

Patient: “Are you open in the morning or the afternoon?”

Me: *looks around at the waiting room full of patients, including her* “Uh… Morning.”

Patient: “Oh, that would make sense.”

Vets Need To Vet Their Pharmacists
New York, Pharmacy, USA, Vet | Healthy | November 17, 2017
(I take my sick dog to the vet and they don’t have the medicine he needs, so they send me to a store to pick it up from their pharmacy.)

Me: “Hi, I’m here to pick up medicine for my dog.”

Rep: “What’s the name?”

Me: “Well, my name is [My Name], but my dog is named Austin.”

Rep: “The medicine is for Austin? What’s Austin’s date of birth?”

Me: “I honestly don’t know what they would have for that; he is a rescue.”

Rep: “Do you have a phone number for Austin?”

Me: “My number is [number].”

Rep: “I don’t need your number. I need the patient’s number.”

Me: “He’s a golden retriever. He doesn’t have a number.”

Rep: “Look, I need information or I can’t give you anything. I can’t even find the prescription.”

Me: “It was called in by [Vet Hospital, with ‘Veterinary’ in the name].”

(The rep yells to the people behind him:)

Rep: “Did we get a call from a [Vet Hospital, but without the word ‘Veterinary’]?”

(I try to correct him, but he brushes me off and the other employees tell him no.)

Rep: “Look, try talking to someone at the drop off window. Right now, you can’t prove you even have a prescription.”

Me: “I don’t have a prescription, but my dog, Austin, does from his veterinarian.”

(The rep glares at me and points to the drop off window. I go over.)

Me: “Hi, I’m here to pick up medicine for my dog, Austin, that my veterinarian called in.”

Drop-Off Pharmacist: “I have that here. What’s your phone number so I can verify?” *I provide it* “Okay, our customer service rep at the main register will check you out.”

(I get back in the first line with the same rep.)

Rep: “What’s this? They found it? Well, I still need you to verify Austin’s information, or call him to get it.”

Me: “Again, Austin is a dog. See? The medicine is listed for veterinary; there’s even a picture of a dog on the package.”

Rep: “Okay, you need to talk to the pharmacist.”

(He puts the medicine on the back counter. I wait five minutes and the pharmacist comes out.)

Pharmacist: “What questions do you have?”

Me: “None, actually. The vet said just to give him a pill twice a day.”

Pharmacist: “Okay. [Rep], why did you call me up?”

Rep: “Is it even legal to give this to her? She doesn’t have the patient’s information.”

Pharmacist: “The patient is a dog. It’s fine.”

Rep: “A dog? Who needs medicine for a dog? Whatever, here.”

(He hands me the bag with the medication.)

Me: “I haven’t paid.”

Rep: “Yeah, you did; I rang you out.”

Me: “No.”

Pharmacist: “This wasn’t paid for. Let me personally ring you out over here. I’m going to write down my information and the name of the other employee who helped you. If you have any questions, comments, or complaints, please send them to this email address. Please send them. We need to have a certain number of complaints before we can let an employee go.”

Screaming For A New Nurse
Hospital, Mississippi, USA | Healthy | November 16, 2017
(This occurs when I am 19 years old, and in the hospital giving birth. I am a fairly tiny person, my baby is pretty huge, and I’m in my 23rd hour of labor, so you can see how I might be stressed out. The first time I let out a pained scream…)

Nurse: *disgustedly* “You know the screaming doesn’t actually help, right?”

(My mom and boyfriend gawk at her.)

Boyfriend: “Are you kidding? Did you seriously just say that?”

Nurse: *defensively* “Look, I’m just saying that it’s 3:00 am; people are trying to sleep. She’s being really loud.”

Mom: “GET THE F*** OUT OF HERE!”

(She huffed and walked out of the room without a word, leaving another nurse to scramble in to help. I saw her a few more times during my stay, and thankfully she kept her mouth shut.)

Cold-Blooded Humor
Alberta, Canada, Hospital | Healthy | November 16, 2017
(I received a call from my doctor after having some blood work done, telling me to get to the ER immediately for a blood transfusion, as my hemoglobin levels were critically low. A friend of mine takes me and stays with me for support. She likes to try and lighten the mood with a sarcastic sense of humor. This occurs when the nurse brings in the first bag of blood and hooks it up to my IV…)

Me: “Oh, wow… that’s a strange sensation!”

Nurse: “What? It’s not burning is it? Does it hurt?”

Me: “Not at all… It’s just really cold! I’ve never felt cold inside my body before.”

Friend: “Cold? Geez, Nurse! Can’t ya warm it up a little for her?”

Nurse: “…umm.”

Friend: “Just throw it in the microwave for a few minutes! My friend says it’s too cold here!”

Nurse: *mouth agape with a look of horror*

Me: “[Friend]… I don’t think she knows you’re joking.”

Friend: “Oh… Oh, my god! I’m totally joking! Just trying to lighten the mood!”

Nurse: “Oh, thank goodness! I mean, whatever you want to do on your own time, sure… but I’m not wasting precious O negative in this hospital for your little experiment here!”

(We had a good laugh after that. And after two bags of the red stuff my hemoglobin levels were back up to normal!)

Addicted To Death
Alberta, Canada, Hospital | Healthy | November 16, 2017
(I am eleven years old. My mother works in the kitchen of the local hospital and sometimes her duties involve delivering food trays to the patients. I remember her talking about the times on one floor where she would hear people moaning and crying, begging for morphine, as they lay painfully dying from whatever cancer was taking them from this world. One day, when I am out front of the hospital, I begin talking with a nurse who is waiting for the bus. We touch on a few topics until I remember my mother’s worlds about the terminally ill patients.)

Me: “My mother works in the kitchen and delivers food trays. She has told me about the dying people begging for morphine. Why don’t you give them what they need?”

Nurse: “Because they could become addicted, of course!”

Me: *I pondered her words for a few moments then replied* “Well, why don’t you give them the morphine they need, and then when they die, cut them off?”

Nurse: *giving me the stink-eye* “Little smart-a**!” *walks away in a huff*

Too Bad You Can’t Transfuse Out Racism
Bigotry, Hospital, USA | Healthy | November 16, 2017
(This happened to one of my professors in the 1970s while they were working in a hospital’s blood bank dispensary. It wasn’t uncommon at that time for people to be somewhat fixated on the concept of receiving blood from their own race only. Some people falsely believed that “black blood” would “turn you black,” and all sorts of other ridiculous racist things. A patient who has recently received a blood transfusion somehow gets their number.)

Caller: “What color was the blood you gave me?”

Professor: *knowing what they’re asking, but refusing to play* “Red.”

Caller: “No. Where did it come from?”

Professor: “From someone’s veins, out of the goodness of their hearts.”

Caller: “No, I mean, what type of person did it come from?”

Professor: “A generous, kind, and loving one. Look, I don’t know their race, and it doesn’t matter anyway, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did know.”

Caller: “F*** you!”

Leaving You High And Dry
Awesome, England, Hospital, Inspirational, Kind Strangers, London, UK | Healthy | November 15, 2017
(I’ve gone to the hospital for an ultrasound scan. On my way to the hospital, I am caught in a flash rainstorm and have no umbrella, so I am completely soaked through by the time I arrive.)

Doctor: “Ms. [Surname]?

Me: “Hi.”

Doctor: “Oh, you poor thing; you’re soaked though.”

Me: “Yeah, it was raining really hard out there.”

(We enter the ultrasound room.)

Sonographer: “Hi. I’m [Sonographer], and I’ll be doing your scan today. If I could ask you to lie on the bench…”

Me: “Sure. Uh, I’m sorry; I’m going to make it a little damp, I think.”

Doctor: “Don’t apologise; we’re just sorry you’re so wet. Wait, hold on. We have spare hospital gowns somewhere.”

Sonographer: “In the waiting room. I’ll grab one. Hopefully your clothes can dry a little when we do the scan.”

(She goes out.)

Doctor: “Right. Let’s see if I can switch the air-conditioner off in here, or get it to run hot.”

Me: “Thanks!”

Doctor: “Not a problem.”

(The sonographer comes back with a hospital gown, so I get changed. After the scan is done…)

Doctor: “All done. Do you have to be anywhere? Otherwise, maybe we could see if there’s somewhere for you to sit so your clothes can dry.”

Me: “That’s very kind, but I have to go back home and carry on working.”

Doctor: “Hmm, I wonder if we can get you a hairdryer for a quick solution, then.”

Sonographer: “Let me think…” *pause* “I’m pretty sure we don’t have any we can use, but if you take the first left, there are some toilets with a pretty good hand-dryer, which you might be able to stand under.”

(I ended up having to rush back, but I was extremely grateful to the doctor and sonographer for trying to find a way to dry me off!)

Will Come Down With Swine Flu
Medical Office, Montana, USA | Healthy | November 15, 2017
(I work at a small clinic which has a break room right next to my desk, so I smell everyone’s reheated lunch. I don’t eat pork.)

Me: “Do you have to eat that at my desk? It smells awful!”

Coworker: “Oh, you’ll be fine. Your hot cop is coming in today.”

(I have a regular patient who is a cop.)

Me: “He’s not ‘my hot cop.’ He’s twice my age.”

Coworker: “Whatever.” *walks away, taking her rancid lunch with her*

Me: *yelling* “Oh, sick! NOW IT SMELLS LIKE BACON IN HERE! I FREAKING HATE PIGS!”

(Right then my “hot cop patient” walked around the corner, and if looks could kill… Needless to say, when he came in for follow-up, I just happened to come down with the flu that day.)

Take (Medi)Care To Stay Alive
Grandparents, Home, Rhode Island, USA | Healthy | November 15, 2017
(I am with my grandmother, who gets tons of sales calls, which everyone in the house finds obnoxious. One day, I answer the phone for her.)

Salesperson: “Hello, this is Medicare. Can I speak to [Grandmother]?”

Me: “She’s dead.”

Salesperson: “Okay, I’ll make a note of that on her file. Goodbye.”

(He hangs up. My grandmother is staring at me in shock.)

Grandma: “DID YOU JUST TELL MEDICARE THAT I DIED?! I’LL LOSE MY INSURANCE!”

(Naturally, I freak out. I’m near hysterical as I call the company and tell them what I had done.)

Medicare Person: “Did someone call the house? Because Medicare only calls if you have made an appointment in advance. We still have her alive on here.”

(So luckily they were scammers. However, I will never do that again. Ever.)

One Bjorn Every Minute
Family & Kids, Funny Names, Home, New York, USA | Healthy | December 6, 2017
(My husband and I have chosen a name for our child that is rare in our area. We’ve also gone with an older variant of its spelling which has a near silent letter. For the sake of the story let’s say it is Bjorn. Our doctor’s office does confirmation calls for our newborn visits.)

Receptionist: “This is a reminder call from [Family Doctor]’s office that ‘Bejorn’ has an appointment tomorrow at nine am.”

Me: *repeating back as an excuse to give pronunciation* “Bjorn—” *j sounds like a y* “—appointment tomorrow at nine am. Got it. Thank you.”

(At the appointment the receptionist calls for ‘Bejorn.’ I ponder a moment if it is better to correct the pronunciation or let it go. I smile and decide to say something so it doesn’t continue to pop up.)

Me: “It’s actuality Bjorn with the j being a y sound.”

(The receptionist doesn’t seem put off and the rest of the visit goes smoothly. Our family doctor is already familiar with the name having also been the one to deliver him. I’m getting a rare moment of sleep when the office calls to confirm my newborn’s next appointment. The voicemail made me laugh.)

Receptionist: “Hi this is [Receptionist] from [Family Doctor]’s office calling to remind you that…” *long pause where you could almost hear them thinking* “…your SON has an appointment tomorrow at 11 am.”

(Well played.)

Hungary For Some Medicine
Budapest, Hospital, Hungary | Healthy | December 6, 2017
(When I left Germany for a semester abroad people warned me that every foreign student has at least one horror story to tell from their experience. This one is mine. I go to Hungary. All my classes are in English, and most of the people I interact with are fluent in either English or German, so while I only know the most basic Hungarian — introduction phrases, greetings, how to order food — my Hungarian is not good and I communicate in English most of the time. Two months into my stay, I wake up with massive pain in my ears, and they are wet, like liquid is coming out of them. I call my mother, a nurse, who tells me it might be a middle-ear inflammation and that I need to go see a doctor immediately. But since my European insurance only covers emergencies, I have not been to a doctor so far and have no GP in town. I start searching online for an English-speaking doctor I can go to. I eventually find out that my best bets are the so-called “emergency centres” of each town district, apparently some kind of doctors’ offices where you pay cash and later are reimbursed by your insurance company. I decide to call the centre of my district. The person who answers the phone hands me over to the doctor on call. I describe my symptoms and my suspected diagnosis and she tells me to come to them right away. I take a cab to the office, where I only find a nurse unable to speak English.)

Me: “Hi! I called earlier; I am here to see the doctor.”

Nurse: “No doctor!”

(With both of us using translator apps, we end up establishing that the doctor is not here and I will have to wait two hours. So, I wait in pain, cold, with my nose running like crazy, in the “waiting room,” a room completely empty except for one metal bench. The doctor arrives more than 90 minutes later. While she gathers her tools, I describe my symptoms again. As soon as I mention pain in the ears, she stops and turns around.)

Doctor: “You are in the wrong place. You need to see a specialist.”

Me: “I’m sorry, what? I told you all that on the phone; you told me to come here!”

Doctor: “No, you need to go to the hospital.”

(She gives me a paper that I hope describes the reason she is sending me away, and the name of a hospital. The hospital is way closer to my place than the emergency centre is and I am quite angry, sick and miserable as I am, that I wasted more than two hours when she could have told me to go there on the phone. But it is already past noon by now, on a Friday, so I hurry, as normal business hours will end soon. I reach the hospital. The receptionist, again not an English speaker, motions for me that I am in the wrong place.)

Me: *using my translator app* “I was told to come here!”

(The receptionist brings me inside where a nurse can translate for me that I need to go to another entrance, two buildings down. I thank them and am on my way. By now, I am suffering even worse. My head feels like it will split open, my ears just radiate pain, and my nose is basically dripping like a faucet. I reach the right entrance and hand the paper I got at the emergency centre to the receptionist.)

Receptionist #2 : *pushes the paper back to me and talks fast Hungarian*

Me: “Please, I do not speak Hungarian. Beszelek nincs magyarul!”

(She turns around and ignores me. I use my translator, type in, “Hello. I think I have an middle ear infection. I need a doctor; can you help me?” and hope the app will not mess it up too bad. I show the result to her, but she just looks away. I try to hand her my phone so she can type an answer in the translator, but she pushes it away, too. She ignores all my other attempts of communication. In my desperation, I use my last resort: I call the emergency number. As I am in a European capital, they should have some people speaking English. I finally end up talking to someone that understands me. By now, I am desperate and crying.)

Me: “Hello! I hope you can help me; I need an English-speaking doctor. I went to the emergency centre in [District];they refused to treat me and sent me to [Hospital]. But here, they won’t treat me either, and no one can tell me why! Please, I am in pain; I need a doctor!”

Operator: “That is no problem. I will find the closest doctor! Hmm… Yes… Okay! You need to go to the emergency centre in [District].”

Me: “STOP! I WAS THERE! I JUST TOLD YOU THEY REFUSED TO TREAT ME!”

(I am full-on crying now. I collapse to the floor, sobbing. The foyer is empty except for the receptionist that still ignores me.)

Operator: *sounding angry* “You need to calm down! I cannot understand you when you shout! I told you where to go, so go there! Emergency centre in [District]!”

(Finally, someone notices me. While I disconnect the call, a young med student runs to me, offering her help, and asking me what is wrong. I hand her my paper, explain what I have just been through, and tell her that the receptionist refuses to tell me where to go or to communicate at all. She goes and talks to the receptionist and returns with another piece of paper.)

Student: “Everything is all right. Your doctor sent you here because the ENT-walk-in clinic is here. But the clinic closed at noon. So, you need to go to the surgical ENT-ward. It is really close. I’ll write down the address for you. You go in there, hand the receptionist there your papers, and they will bring you to a doctor.”

(The address is just around the corner from my building. I go there, but when I see the building I lose all hope. I am not standing in front of a hospital; I am standing in front of a fast food place. I just want to go home, but I know that I need pain meds and antibiotics, and the search for a doctor will not get easier on the weekend. So, I enter the next pharmacy I see.)

Me: “I am so sorry, but can you help me? I have been searching for a doctor for more than four hours now. I am in pain, but everyone refuses to treat me! They gave me this address at the hospital, but there is only [Fast Food Place] there! And I know what they say about antibiotics in cow-meat, but I’m pretty sure I need more than a burger right now!”

(The pharmacists rush into action. One leads me to a chair and brings me water while the other one starts using the phone.)

Pharmacist: “Okay, I just talked to the hospital and found out what’s wrong. You need to go to [Address] Square, not [Address] Street. It is about 200 meters down the road. They can help you. Come by after and let us know you were taken care of, sweetie!”

(I finally find the right building. The nurses of the ward won’t talk in English, but with the help of my papers they find me a doctor. He is amazing; he even types up my medical papers twice, one time in Hungarian and one time in English. He even allows me to come back to the ENT-ward the next week for my checkup, so I will not have to go through that trouble again. I go back to the pharmacy to get my meds and the pharmacists hug me and tell me to go home and rest. Sadly, that is not the end of the story. I feel way better after a while. Next Friday I return to the ward for my checkup 20 minutes after they open. I hand the nurses the papers the last doctor gave me, but they seem confused. My translator app message, “Hello, I am here for my checkup with [Doctor]!” is ignored again. A man in scrubs notices me.)

Man: “Can I help you?”

Me: “Yes, I was here last week, [Doctor] told me to come back for my checkup.”

(He talks to the nurses and turns back to me.)

Man: “Someone will be with you in a minute.”

(I sit down in front of the window of the cubicle the nurses sit in and start reading a book. I am in plain sight all the time. I eventually even finish my book. More than two hours have passed. Further communication with the nurses seems futile and I am considering what to do when the man from before comes around the corner again. He sees me, turns red, and starts shouting at the nurses in Hungarian.)

Man: “I am so sorry; a doctor will be with you in a second.”

(As it turns out, that man was the chief resident. My doctor from my last visit had been called out of the ward and the nurses were supposed to tell a different doctor to see to my checkup, but they did not. The other doctor was there in two minutes. I know that I cannot expect all locals to understand English when I am the foreigner in a country whose language I do not speak. But even if you do not have a common language, try to help. Get someone to translate, try to use translator apps, or even use hand movements. But please, do not just ignore a crying girl that is asking for your help!)

Acting Narcotic Robotic
North Carolina, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | December 5, 2017
(I have an invisible chronic illness, Chronic Pancreatitis, that was caused by complications from gallbladder surgery a few years back. I am on tons of medication on a daily basis just so I can function normally and work a demanding full-time job. One of these medications is a narcotic; because of the multitudes who abuse it, a lot of judgement is passed on those who legitimately need it.)

Me: “Hi there! Just need to get this filled.”

(I hand my prescription over to a pharmacist that I don’t recognize. These prescriptions are very specific for when you can fill them, and are dated accordingly. Everything on mine is legit, as I literally just left the doctor’s office.)

Pharmacist: *takes a long time to look at it, and keeps looking back up at me* “Are you sure it’s time to fill this again?”

Me: “Um… Well, yeah. I just picked that up from my doctor, and the fill date is listed. You can also check your system, because this is the only pharmacy I use.”

(The pharmacist gives me a weird look and says it’ll be ten minutes, so I go sit down to wait. A few minutes later I hear her on the phone, and I don’t really pay any attention until I hear her say my name. Turns out she is calling my doctor’s office to verify it, the whole time shooting nasty sideways looks at me. Okay, totally fine; I know they have to be careful and check these things, so I brush it off. A couple minutes later when I walk up to the counter to pick it up:)

Pharmacist: “You know, this stuff is really bad for you. You shouldn’t be taking this.”

Me: *stunned* “Well, it helps me stay upright so I can work. Haha.”

Pharmacist: “My sister was on this and it was horrible. I would have to tell her all the time about how bad it was and that she had to get off of it, and she was addicted. It was really bad and she had such a hard time. You shouldn’t be taking this!”

Me: “Well, I’m going to let my doctor decide that. Can I check out now, please?”

(I understand how many people get hooked on narcotics, and the rising epidemic in this country, but they do have benefits that people like myself need. I don’t even think this lady was worried about the bigger social issue; I think she just got it into her head that it was a horrible medication from her bad experience with her sister. I’m sorry, lady; you are a pharmacist who should know better, and until you gain your medical doctorate and start practicing gastroenterology, keep your opinions about my treatment to yourself!)

Will Be Getting Ribbed About That Forever
Health & Body, Medical Office, Physical, The Netherlands | Healthy | December 5, 2017
(My uncle has some work-related back pains for which his GP refers him to a physical therapist. The therapy he needs is pretty painful, so when he comes home from a session one day saying the therapist has gotten him good, his wife — my aunt — thinks nothing of it and goes out running errands. When she gets home after a few hours and calls to my uncle to help her with the groceries, she notices he’s moving very carefully, wincing, and not breathing well. When she asks what’s wrong, my uncle tells her his ribs on one side have been hurting bad since therapy, and it isn’t getting better despite taking some painkillers. My aunt gently prods his ribs, eliciting a yelp. Knowing my uncle is pretty tough, my aunt gets worried and pulls up his shirt, uncovering a HUGE blossoming bruise on one side of his back. My aunt freaks out and orders my uncle to get in the car NOW because they’re going to the hospital. On the way there, she gives my uncle the third degree: What did he do? Did he fall? Did he get into a fight? What is he hiding from her? My uncle swears nothing happened; he went to therapy and came back, his ribs have been hurting since, and that’s that. The doctor at the hospital takes one look at the bruise and orders an x-ray, which reveals several BROKEN ribs. The doctor also interrogates my uncle, but gets the same response: all he did was go to physical therapy for his back pains.)

ER Doctor: “Did the therapist work on your ribs as well?”

Uncle: “Well, yes. Wait, are you saying…?”

ER Doctor: “That you should get a different therapist? Yes.”

(My uncle made a full recovery and got a different therapist who cured his back pains. The therapist who broke his ribs is still in practice and also coaches a youth sports team. I was on that team for several years and now hate sports. The guy received a Royal Ribbon for his investment in youth sports.)

That’s One Ticked Off Dog
Illinois, Non-Dialogue, Pets & Animals, Stupid, USA, Vet | Healthy | December 5, 2017
I was working the other day when a client called in frantically about her dog having a tick on its leg. I asked the doctor if we had time to fit her in and he agreed to see the dog.

The client arrived on time and we got her and her dog into an examination room. I happened to overhear her telling the vet that she had tried burning the tick off, tweezing it, and pulling it off.

The doctor looked at it for a few moments, looked up, and said, “Ma’am, this is a mole.”

Not Insured Against Bad Attitudes
Medical Office, USA, Virginia | Healthy | December 4, 2017
(I am currently working front desk at a private practice doctor’s office. I answer phones, schedule patients, do referrals, etc. This exchange occurs over the phone.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Doctor]’s office. My name is [My Name]. How may I help you?”

Patient: *with a snarky attitude* ”My name is [Patient] and I need to know if my medication has been approved by my insurance.”

(Sometimes certain medications need a prior authorization in order for the pharmacy to dispense the med. I tell the woman no problem and get her info so I can pull up her chart.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, it looks like it’s still being processed right now.”

Patient: *with even nastier attitude* “This is ridiculous. I need my medication.”

(I then look to see what medication she is talking about and it turns out it’s Zantac. This is an over-the-counter medicine that you can buy at any grocery or drug store.)

Me: “I’m sorry about that, ma’am, but PAs can take anywhere from one to six weeks. Sometimes medications that can be purchased over-the-counter take longer.”

Patient: *yelling* “I KNOW IT’S OVER THE COUNTER BUT I WILL NOT SPEND MONEY WHEN I CAN GET MY INSURANCE TO PAY FOR IT! I NEED MY MEDICATION NOW AND YOU BETTER DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS.”

(I then forwarded the call to the doctor’s nurse who informed her that she would get to it as soon as possible, but since the patient’s medication was available over-the-counter, she has to work on the others that aren’t. She also gave her a list of stores and other medications that will help her problem if she needs it immediately. Seriously, just go to the store and get some.)

When Your Biggest Headache Is The Doctor
Hospital, Ohio, USA | Healthy | December 4, 2017
(I have chronic, crippling migraines. Sometimes I have to go the ER for a shot. On one such visit, the doctor came in, saw me in my floppy hat and sunglasses, and says:)

Doctor: “Don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous?”

(The migraine has my brain muddled. All I can say is:)

Me: “What?”

(He went into a rather long rant about the dark room, my hat, and my sunglasses. Then he left the room.)

Me: *to my husband* “What just happened?”

Husband: “I don’t know. He’s doing something at the desk now.”

(The doctor returned after about twenty minutes.)

Doctor: “I just checked your record. You’ve been here seventeen times in the last month.”

Me: “No. I haven’t been here for two months at least.”

Doctor: “Don’t lie. I saw the record. It’s obvious you just want the drugs.”

(He continued berating me for being a drug-seeker until I was crying hard. Then, he told me to get out. I had a physical therapy appointment two days later. After what the ER doctor had said to me, I was nervous about interacting with people, but finally got the courage to ask:)

Me: “When someone checks my record on the computer can they see what a visit was for?”

Therapist: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I was in the ER a couple of days ago. The doctor looked at my record and accused of making seventeen visits to the ER seeking drugs. The only thing at [Medical Complex] that I’ve used recently was my physical therapy. Doesn’t my record say what the visits were for?”

Therapist: *in shock* “Yes! It will definitely say if it was physical therapy, your doctor, or the ER.”

(Then, she showed me my record on the computer with physical therapy listed eighteen times, including that day’s visit. I didn’t tell her how bad the ER doc made me feel or how sick I was before the migraine went away on its own, but she decided to report him anyway. It must have been the final straw because when I had to go to the ER about four months later I discovered that doctor had been fired.)

Getting Hysterical-ectomy
Maryland, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | December 4, 2017
(I am a lesbian, and I occasionally experience extremely severe symptoms when on my period, for up to 5 days, such as a complete inability to eat without vomiting, severe pain, and on a couple occasions, seizures. After talking it over with my wife, I decide to go in to speak to my gynecologist and ask her about how to go about getting a hysterectomy. The trouble starts right from when I attempt to book an appointment. After getting through hold and basic introductions.)

Me: “I would like to schedule a consultation with [Doctor] about having a hysterectomy.”

Receptionist: “Okay! Just so you know, if you have a hysterectomy, you won’t be able to have children afterwards!”

Me: “I know. That’s fine.”

(The receptionist then schedules the consultation without any more fuss. On the day of the appointment, I arrive with my wife so that we can both talk to the gynecologist.)

Doctor: “I don’t think that this is a bad idea given your symptoms, but you need to understand that if you go through with this you will never, ever be able to have babies. There is no way to undo it if you decide you want kids.”

Me: “I know. That’s fine.”

Doctor: “We could schedule it a year or two out so you could have one last baby before your surgery.”

Me: “I have never had children.”

Doctor: “So you want to wait—”

Me: “Shut up and listen to me. I am gay. The only penises that ever go inside me are made of plastic. I will not be having children either way. I don’t care. We can adopt. [Wife] could have artificial insemination. It doesn’t matter.”

Doctor: “If you say so…”

(My gynecologist continued to flare at me and mention children several times, and even tried to show me pictures of her own kids, while she was recommending surgeons to me and helping me schedule with one of them. With the surgeon, he also listed all the possible side effects, but a simple “I understand” was all it took to convince him, luckily.)

Discharging Hard Truths
Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Ohio, USA | Healthy | December 3, 2017
I was in an ER cubicle patiently waiting for a doctor to be free to treat my migraine, which is considered low-priority in triage. It was a very busy night, but amazingly quiet so my headache wasn’t exacerbated by sounds. And then, HE arrived in an ambulance.

We were able to hear that he had gotten drunk, climbed onto the bar’s roof, and fallen through a skylight.

Though he was at least 40 yards from me, his continual yells were overwhelming, causing me pain, confusion, and dizziness. Because of that, I couldn’t understand most of what he yelled, but did manage to hear him demanding more alcoholic drinks and trying to get out of bed, and that they had to restrain him.

By the time a doctor went to examine him, I was crying from pain and at the end of my ability to cope. The doctor began talking to the drunk: “And what’s going on with you tonight?”

I snapped and yelled, “HE’S DRUNK AND STUPID!”

The entire ward went silent and then we heard giggles. The doctor bustled into my cubicle, followed in minutes by a nurse with a syringe.

Within fifteen minutes of my outburst, I had been medicated and discharged.

Let’s Not Split Hairs About Who It Is For
Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, Ohio, USA | Healthy | December 2, 2017
Because of family history, I need a specific medical test every five years. My husband always accompanies me to the pre-test appointments. The doctor is mostly bald and does not like jokes about it.

Please note that my husband has been balding for quite a few years. A few years before this appointment, I had made my husband a baseball hat, which said, “Wish you were hair.” I hadn’t realized he was wearing it.

The doctor took one look at the hat, got a sour face, and said, “Is that meant for me?”

At first we were too startled to say anything. Then my husband removed his hat to show his own balding head. He and I burst out laughing. After his own startled pause, the doctor joined in.

Thyroid Void
Medical Office, USA | Healthy | December 1, 2017
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I have hypothyroidism, which has been successfully controlled with medication for several years. Over a couple of months, however, I notice that some of my symptoms are returning. I call my doctor, and she says she will do a blood test. I go to her office for the results.)

Doctor: “Okay, so your thyroid level is at 4.9.”

(The maximum is five.)

Me: “Well, no wonder I’ve been feeling sick! That’s very high.”

Doctor: “Oh, no. You’re fine. Five is the top of the normal range. You’re still under that.”

Me: “But a lot of my old symptoms are coming back. I can’t sleep at night, I’m tired during the day, I’m freezing cold all the time—”

Doctor: “You’re under stress. It’s normal.”

Me: “I HAVE GAINED 20 POUNDS IN TWO MONTHS!”

Doctor: “Well, you just need to go on a diet.”

Me: “I exercise five days a week, and I eat my fruits and veggies! I don’t feel like myself. I know my body, and I need a medication change!”

Doctor: “Well, I’m not giving you one, because you’re normal.”

(She tells me to exercise more and gives me a vitamin supplement. I fume, but take it. A couple of months later, I move to a different state. I go in for an appointment with my new doctor.)

New Doctor: “I’ve been reviewing your test results from your previous doctor, and I noticed your thyroid is at 4.9. That’s very high. Are you feeling okay at that number?”

Me: “Not at all! I tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. She kept saying it was normal.”

New Doctor: “I’m not surprised. Older guidelines allow it to get that high, but I’ve found that my patients feel better when their thyroid is at three or under. I’m going to order some more blood work.”

(The new blood test shows that my number skyrocketed to a six. My new doctor changes my medication immediately. It takes a year and three medicine changes to get it right. It turned out that my thyroid number had been creeping up for a couple of years, and my old doctor had just ignored it. I’m happy to report that I’m much better now!)

It Takes More Than Money To Clear A Bill
Columbia, Medical Office, South Carolina, USA | Healthy | December 1, 2017
(I get about a $3,000 bill from a doctor I had seen several months prior. I am confused because I know my insurance had paid it. I call the billing dept. but get no answer and leave a message. I forget about it until the next month when the bill comes again. Once again, I call, leave a message, and forget about it. Then I get a letter threatening to send me to a collection agency. I call my insurance company to double check. They tell me that not only have they paid it, but had a duplicate charge under a different account number that was of course denied. I start calling every other day. The office phones aren’t open until 10 am and they shut them down at 3:30 pm. I either get a recording and leave a message or the receptionist tells me everyone is in a meeting. This goes on for over three weeks. Then I get another threatening letter. I even go to the office in person but am told everyone is in a meeting and no one can talk to me. At this point I have had it. I wait until 10 pm at night. I call and get the voicemail system. When it says press “1” for nurse, I do so and leave a detailed, angry message that NO ONE will return my calls, I am being threatened with being sent to a collection agency for a bill that was paid, and someone better call me back or I am filing fraud charges with the insurance company and talking to a lawyer. I hang up and call back and do it again after pressing a number for a different department. I go through the entire employee directory. I do this for almost two hours and leave dozens of messages on EVERY SINGLE EMPLOYEE’S voicemail. I then call the doctor’s emergency after-hours line and leave the same message there. The next morning, at 10:01, I call the office. The receptionist recognizes my voice.)

Receptionist: “Yes, ma’am, I have the office manager here for you” *transfers me*

Manager: “Good morning, Mrs. [My Name]. I was just about to call you.”

Me: “Yeah, I bet you were.”

Manager: *sheepishly* “Yeah, everyone is talking about the messages you left, especially the doctor.”

Me: “Well, it’s not like you left me much choice.”

(She apologizes and explains. The guy who was handling the bills was creating fake patient accounts and double billing the insurance companies. Most didn’t catch it, paid the doctor, and then the guy stole the money. They fired him but have such a paperwork mess to clean up and had to gather the evidence to convict him that they didn’t have time to call the patients.)

Me: “I understand, but that is no excuse. You are sending me letters threatening to send me to a collection agency.”

Manager: “What?! Crap, the computers are printing those out automatically. We didn’t know any had been mailed out.”

Me: “Yeah, well they are and you better start answering these calls because you have some very peeved off patients who, like me, are calling lawyers.”

(She apologized again and told me that my account had been cleared up. I wonder, though, about all the others who just kept calling and getting nowhere.)

A Relaxed Attitude To Drugs
England, Hospital, UK | Healthy | December 1, 2017
(I am a medical student. This is my first ever interaction in a hospital setting. The patient has been admitted for a serious lung issue, and is due to return home. It proceeds well, until it is time to round off the conversation:)

Me: “So, I’ve been told you’re being discharged today; is that correct?”

Patient: “Yes, that’s right. I’m going to go and see my friend when I get out. She’s really stressed.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have anything nice planned?”

Patient: “We’re going to bake some weed brownies. That should help us relax!” *laughs*

Me: “Well, at least you’re not smoking it!” *nervous laughter*

(Interesting start to medicine. I’m glad she took my comment well. I just wasn’t expecting it!)

Going Toe-To-Toe With The GP
Medical Office, Oklahoma, Tulsa, USA | Healthy | November 30, 2017
(I have a horrible ingrown toenail. My GP determines that surgery is necessary. He is right, as after half of it is cut away, I still have a normal toenail remaining. The surgery is done under general anesthesia, a move I thought was overkill, but it is a success. Some years later I am seeing a podiatrist about the same problem with the other foot and the doctor concludes the same treatment. I tell him about the first surgery.)

Doctor: “They gave you general anesthesia? That’s ridiculous. Was it a GP?”

Me: “I thought it was extreme. Yes, he was my GP.”

Doctor: “Figures. GP’s don’t know how to anesthetize a toe. Okay, let’s get this taken care of today.”

(He sets me up for surgery, sticks a needle in the base of my toe and injects me. After a bit he uses something pointy to test my toe.)

Doctor: “There, you shouldn’t be feeling anything.”

Me: “I can feel that quite easily. Try again.” *I look away so he knows I’m no cheating by watching* “Yeah, I can still feel it.”

Doctor: “Hmm. Let’s get you some more anesthesia.”

(After a bit, it’s still not numb. I’m suddenly feeling a great lack of confidence after hearing his short diatribe about GPs.)

Doctor: “Well, on a few rare individuals, the main nerve for that part of the toe runs up the wrong side of the toe. Let me see if that’s it.”

(Lucky for him (and me) that turned out to be exactly the case. I still get a wry grin thinking about him complaining that another doctor couldn’t just numb my toe.)

Expecting A Faint Chance
Hospital, Israel, Tel Aviv | Healthy | November 30, 2017
(I recently fractured my wrist and hand in a bad fall. I am seeing my doctor and a follow-up appointment. Due to being unable to drive myself, my boyfriend drives me and stays while they draw blood. It’s important to note I’m only 1.60 m and he is a large man, over 2 m tall.)

Doctor: “Well, the results look good, no infections, and the x-rays show your hand and wrist are healing well. Oh, and congratulations.”

Me: “For being clumsy? Or having good bones?”

Doctor: “No… congratulations.”

Boyfriend: “For what?”

Doctor: “You’re expecting, or did you not know?”

Me: “Expecting what?”

Doctor: “A baby. You’re pregnant. We ran the results twice. You’re going to have a baby.”

(While I tried to process being pregnant, my boyfriend stood up, then promptly fainted, landing face first on the floor and leaving a nasty bruise on his forehead. Now we have a great story to tell our future child about how their big, strong father fainted when he heard the news!)

Truly Acting The Part
College & University, England, UK | Healthy | November 30, 2017
(I am a paramedic student. As part of my training, we run simulated scenarios with one, two, or four students and actor(s) to be the patient (and bystanders). We have a scenario where I and another student have to respond to a man who has attempted suicide and slit both his wrists. While we’re treating him I drop a bandage and a few members of my class giggle. The actor, being the little legend he is, responds by saying:)

Actor: “All those people are laughing at me.”

(I had to struggle not to laugh while my partner, a seasoned EMT who is getting her UK cert, reassured him that he was just seeing things.)

Anti-Antibiotics
Massachusetts, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | November 29, 2017
(I have a mild immune deficiency. This makes me highly susceptible to severe sinus infections. This also means that only antibiotics administered within the first week of symptoms will quickly cure my sinus infections. Anything else does nothing and it will take several months for my immune system to fight off the infection. This is well-documented.)

Doctor: “It seems your daughter’s infections are chronic. I’m going to prescribe your daughter [Medication that relies on and boosts the immune cells already present] and ask that you check back to tell me if it helped.”

Mom: “No. You have prescribed my daughter this medication and those like it before and it does nothing. She needs antibiotics.”

Doctor: “Can you try this medication for a few days? We ought not to jump right to antibiotics.”

Mom: “This is another thing you have told us to do that we have tried. No, it does not help at all.”

Doctor: “You cannot just press me for antibiotics! They’re not good for long-term health.”

Mom: “Listen to me. I know that you think I am one of those parents who just demands that doctors give my kid antibiotics for every little sniffle. I am not. I am insisting on antibiotics because they are the only thing that will stop my daughter from having to go through months of misery, pain, and exhaustion from sinus infections! This is not an exaggeration; it really does take that long. And your immune booster medication does not help much because hers is too compromised for the effect to make a difference! I would love to go through the documentation proving all of this, if you require it. But I am absolutely not leaving here having wasted my daughter’s and my time to go spend my money on a medication that will not help her avoid a long term and awful illness.”

Doctor: “Oh. Um… I have to step out for a bit. Um… you really shouldn’t over-rely on antibiotics. Be careful.”

Mom: *shoots [Doctor] a death glare*

(Fortunately, this was enough to get [Doctor] to prescribe me antibiotics. Sure enough, I was ready to go back to school by the next day and was totally free of infection after three days. My mom soon requested to never see that doctor again, which was honored. Since being guaranteed to get the medication I need as soon as possible, I have not needed to take antibiotics often and also get sick much less than before.)

Symptoms May Include Death And Sarcasm
Clinic, Russia, Sarcasm, St. Petersburg | Healthy | November 29, 2017
(Back in college I spent a summer living in Russia. Midway through my stay I came down with strep throat. This is the first time I’ve had it since I was a kid, when I got it yearly. My program director takes me to a clinic that specializes in treating foreigners. After diagnosing me, the doctor comes back into my room with a pile of medication, none of which I recognize. Since I take other medications, I ask him if there are drug interactions I should be aware of. He proceeds to take the paper inserts out of every box he has and read them. After a few minutes he looks up and says:)

Doctor: “I don’t know; if the reaction is bad, stop taking them?”

Me: “Great. So, if I die, I’ll stop taking them.”

(Thankfully I never had a reaction but I still have no idea what it was that he gave me. Bonus? My host mother was convinced I got sick from drinking cold beverages in the hot weather.)

Got More Than A Chip On Your Shoulder
Dentist, Maryland, USA | Healthy | November 29, 2017
(I go to my routine semi-annual dental check-up, and tell my dentist that I think I have chipped a molar, as there is a rough patch on my tooth that keeps catching my tongue, causing it to blister and bleed on a regular basis.)

Dentist: “Oh, yes, there is a small chip.”

Me: “Can we get it fixed?”

Dentist: “Insurance won’t cover the procedure as it’s ‘cosmetic.’”

Me: “It’s literally causing my tongue to bleed. This chip is painful, and it’s actually causing injury to me. I think it’s more than cosmetic.”

Dentist: “Oh, you’ll be fine. Just don’t play with it.”

(This went on for months. I kept asking him to fix the chip, and he kept refusing. I also got opinions from other dentists that said the chip needed to be filled, but my dentist still refused. Ultimately I switched to a new dentist due to a change in insurance; the new dentist took one look at the chip and had me scheduled for an appointment to get it filled a few days later.)

New Dentist: “Yeah, let’s get this taken care of; you shouldn’t have to suffer with this chip causing you pain and open sores. Plus, it’s deep enough that your dentin is exposed. If we leave this open any longer, your whole tooth would be in danger of forming an abscess, which would need a root canal to fix.”

Me: *in shocked disbelief* “My tooth could have rotted away from the inside out because my old dentist couldn’t be bothered to give me a filling the size of a pin-head?!”

New Dentist: “Yep.”

Cancer Is A Crime
California, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | November 28, 2017
(I’ve been diagnosed with cancer and am on numerous medications, including morphine and oxycodone for the pain I am in. I’m pretty skinny and pale and not looking healthy after six months of chemotherapy. I go to my normal pharmacy with my paper prescription to get filled and a new pharmacy tech, or at least one I’ve never seen in the six months I’ve frequented this place, greets me. I hand him my paperwork, and he starts to type in into his computer, and then looks at me and says:)

Pharmacy Tech: “I see you’ve been getting these pills for a few months now, and you’re refilling them on the same date every month. You can’t fill this if you’re just going to sell them on the street for your drug money.”

(My jaw drops, and he hands my prescription back to me.)

Pharmacy Tech: “I’m calling the police now, sir, so don’t run off.”

(He then goes to the phone and starts dialing. The pharmacist sees me through their little window and waves at me, I see her a lot when I’m there and she’s helped consult me on the timing of taking my meds so I don’t make myself sick. I wave her over.)

Pharmacist: “Hi!”

Me: “You may want to talk to your new guy. He’s calling the cops on me.”

(She turns around and sees him on the phone.)

Pharmacist: “What are you doing?”

Pharmacy Tech: *covers the receiver* “This junkie is trying to get pills to sell. I’m calling the cops.”

(She rips the phone out of his hand and yells at him.)

Pharmacist: “He has cancer, you idiot!”

(He went pale. She sent him away and hung up the phone. I got my refills, and I never saw that guy again.)

Digger-ing Yourself Into A Hole
Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | November 28, 2017
(I am at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription that was called in.)

Tech: “Can I help you?”

Me: “I need to pick up for [Last Name].”

Tech: *types into computer* “First name?”

Me: “Digger.”

Tech: “Digger?”

Me: “Yes.”

(The tech give me a funny look and goes into the back. He returns with the medicine in hand.)

Tech: “So, you can’t drive while taking this. Also, you cannot drink alcohol while taking this. I will need you to sign saying you understand those restrictions.”

Me: *laughing* “No problem.”

Tech: “I need a date of birth.”

Me: “October 2015. I don’t know the day.”

Tech: “You don’t know your child’s birthdate?”

Me: “It’s not my child.”

Tech: “I’m not going to be able to fill this.”

Me: “I need the pharmacist. Now.”

(The pharmacist comes out and asks what the problem is.)

Tech: “She’s picking up this medicine but she doesn’t know the birthdate and then she says it isn’t her child.”

Pharmacist: *takes bag and reads label* “Look at this name.”

(The tech looks and still doesn’t seem to understand.)

Pharmacist: “The patient is named Digger K9 [Last Name]. That means it’s for her dog. Lots of people don’t know their dog’s birthday.”

Tech: “How was I supposed to know?”

Pharmacist: “I’ll finish this. Go wait in the office for me.”

(When I went to get his refill, the same tech handled the transaction. He commented that it was a really big dose for a toddler. Pretty sure whatever the pharmacist said — it didn’t help.)

You Suck(tion)!
Clinic, North Carolina, USA | Healthy | November 28, 2017
(I have a rare disease for which I have to have blood work done every few months. I always get it done at the local health department because I don’t have insurance and labs are too expensive elsewhere. They used to have a phlebotomist on staff who was quite good at her job, but she retired around a year before this incident. After she retired, for a while, my tests were done by whichever nurse happened to be available. On this day, one of the nurses who has drawn my blood a few times before is training a different nurse on lab procedures, so the trainee nurse is actually the one doing the draw. I’m often a problematic draw because my veins are small, and sometimes my blood doesn’t come out. This happens after several other mishaps, including the trainee nurse not noticing all of the tests I need to have done, having to remind both of them that one of my samples has to be frozen, and the trainee nurse failing to draw from my left arm and having to try my right arm instead. As the trainee nurse is drawing my blood, she’s pulling up on the needle in a way that makes it hurt like h***, but I’m kind of used to it, so I’m just responding to the talkative trainer nurse and not looking at my arm. Finally the trainee nurse finishes filling the last vial and removes the needle. Something feels a little odd, so I look down to see blood POURING from my arm. I’ve been getting labs done regularly for about 13 years at this point, and I’ve never seen anything like that, so I’m a bit alarmed.)

Me: “What the h***?!

Trainee Nurse: “…”

Trainer Nurse: “Oh! *to trainee nurse* “Looks like you broke the suction…” *to me* “Uh, she broke the suction… But that’s okay! It’s perfectly fine, just looks bad. Don’t worry!”

Me: “Uh…”

Trainee Nurse: “It happens sometimes.”

Me: “That has NEVER happened to me before. But okay, sure.”

(That’s not something that just “happens sometimes”; that’s something you DO.)

Extra Nerve-ous
Costa Rica, Dentist | Healthy | November 27, 2017
(I’m deadly afraid of dentists, but one day I finally get the courage to go see one for a routine check up. They tell me I need to get my wisdom teeth removed and we set up an appointment.)

Me: “Please be patient.”

Dentist: “This will not hurt at all in a few minutes, after the anaesthetic kicks off.”

(He gives me three injections. A few minutes later he pokes me with an instrument.)

Me: “Aaaah!”

Dentist: “Okay, more anaesthetic.”

(He gives me another injection, waits a few more minutes, then pokes me with an instrument.)

Me: “OUCH, OUCH, OUCH!”

Dentist: “Don’t lie; it doesn’t hurt.”

Me: “Please, I swear it does.”

Dentist: “I can’t give you any more anaesthetic. Go home and come back next week. Take a valium.”

(One week and one valium later:)

Dentist: “I gave you all the anaesthetic I can. Stop crying for nothing.”

(In extreme pain, I manage to get to the opening of the area around the tooth, then he begins pulling.)

Me: “No more! Please stop!”

Dentist: “Just a bit more. Let me pull some more. It doesn’t hurt.”

Me: *refusing to open my mouth any more* “No.”

(The dentist even called my mom, and she screamed at me to stop being a wuss. Still, I refused to get anything else and he was forced to close the gap and let me go. He was kind enough to recommend another dentist with access to morphine. Thankfully the new dentist thought that my problem was probably that I had an extra nerve around that area. He gave me a normal anaesthetic where he thought it was and took out the tooth without so much as a peep from me. The lesson is: trust yourself.)

Insulin And Out
Hospital, UK | Healthy | November 27, 2017
(I have been admitted to hospital for fainting spells. I am also diabetic and use injections. I am currently on my period, and for whatever reason I tend to bruise more often from the injections during this time.)

Nurse: *coming in while I’m getting changed* “Okay, this shouldn’t take very long. At most you should be— What are those?”

Me: “What are what?”

Nurse: *now angry and pointing at my thighs* “THOSE!”

Me: “Bruises, from insulin injections.”

(It looks like she doesn’t believe me as she turns and leaves. I have an MRI and CT scan, and now they need to do some blood tests. I am given some forms, which have already been filled out, but I’m asked to check to see if there is anything that has been missed. After the blood has been taken, a new medical officer comes in with my forms.)

Medical Officer: “Are you all right, dear? We just need to make sure everything is right before we do the tests.”

Me: “I already checked them and they’re fine.”

Medical Officer: “Yes, but we need more than just the medication you have been prescribed. We also need other drugs you may have taken recently.”

Me: “Again, already on the form.”

Medical Officer: “Any not-necessarily-legal drugs.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Medical Officer: “I may as well be open. Now, there’s no need to be ashamed, but we really need to know what drugs you are addicted to, and for how long. They could be what is causing your condition.”

Me: “I’m not on anything like that. What is this– Oh. Have any of the nurses spoken to you about my legs?”

Medical Officer: “There was an observation made that you use your legs for the injection site, yes.”

Me: “And did they also tell you that I’m diabetic as well, and that’s where I administer my insulin?” *shows her my legs*

Medical Officer: *doubtful* “That’s a lot of bruising for mere insulin injections.”

Me: “If I had been admitted a week ago, they wouldn’t be there. I’m on my period, and my injections always cause bruising while I’m on my period.”

(She still looks doubtful, but leaves me in peace. I’m really shook up by it and despite these two being the only people who think I’m a drug addict, I opt to leave and be seen elsewhere. I never find out the cause of my fainting, but it disappears within a month. Six months later, I’m back at said hospital for retinal screening. Lo and behold, the woman who sees me is the second one mentioned above. She recognises me.)

Medical Officer: “Oh, small world. How have you—”

Me: *lifting my skirt* “Do you see any bruises now? Do I look like a junkie now?”

Medical Officer: *blushing* “Oh, umm. No. I’m sorry about jumping to—”

Me: “Just save it. If you’ve been given this responsibility, after how you treated me, you can stuff it!”

(I then left and arranged to have all future screening done at a hospital nearly an hour away. It really makes you wonder why these two women, out of all the people who saw me that day, believed I was a drug addict because of bruising on one of the most common areas diabetics inject.

Calibrations Always Go Up And Down
Hospital, USA, Utah | Healthy | November 27, 2017
(It’s the night shift in the hospital lab. I’m the scientist doing the nightly calibrating of our analyzers’ drug screen when the ER requests a drug screen, which I can’t run until I finish my calibrations; once I start, I can’t stop. We tell them it will be done as soon as possible, and we’ll rush the sample, which they’re okay with. Meanwhile, some plumbers are working on one of our sinks. The lead scientist comes to my bench to check on my progress and get a better ETA to tell the doctors.)

Lead Scientist: “How’s it coming over here?”

Me: “I’m almost ready. I just need to do cocaine and marijuana.”

Lead Scientist: *without missing a beat* “[My Name], you know better than to mix uppers and downers.”

(The plumbers all went silent and turned to look at us. I hope they didn’t think we were actually doing drugs.)

Something Doesn’t Clicky
Hospital, UK | Healthy | November 26, 2017
(I am fifteen and fortunate enough to be able to attend the birth of my baby sister with my dad. This takes place only an hour after she is born.)

Doctor: “Now, Mrs. [Mum], is it all right if a student doctor does the examination on your baby?”

Mum: “Yes, of course; they have to practice!”

Doctor: “[Student]! You can come in now!

Student: *examines my baby sister and then looks worried* “I’m going to refer [Sister] here. She is exhibiting signs of clicky hips.”

Mum: “Should we be worried? [My Name] didn’t have any of that. Is it going to affect her as she gets older?!”

Student: “It’s likely she’ll just have a little fabric harness. It’s easily corrected.”

(Two weeks later we are sitting in a clinic room in the hospital waiting for the doctor. My mum sits next to a lady with a toddler and a baby not much older than my sister.)

Lady: “Hello, why are you here?”

Mum: “We’ve been referred. Apparently, [Sister] has clicky hips.”

Lady: *looks surprised* “Same here! Did you have [Student] examine her?”

Mum: “Yes, that was him!”

Lady: “I’ve talked to three other ladies who’ve been referred, and each of their babies have absolutely nothing wrong. I’m betting it’s the same for our two!”

(It turned out the student had referred about twenty mothers over the two days he’d been in the department, and none of their babies had clicky hips!)