Some Heart-Warming Explanations
Hawaii, Hospital, USA | Healthy | December 7, 2017
(I have visited the cardiologist for EKGs and echoes every two years since I was born, and one year I am old enough to ask my doctor why I have to.)

Doctor: “You have a heart murmur. Arrhythmia and mitral valve prolapse.”

Me: “What’s that mean?”

Doctor: “Well, most people’s hearts have a steady two-beat. BUMP-bump, BUMP-bump, BUMP-bump, like a drummer. Your heart is like a jazz drummer, who just does whatever: BUMP-bump-bump, BUMP-bump-bump, BUMP, bump-BUMP, no bump. There’s extra beats and missed beats, with no pattern to it.”

Me: “What’s the other one?”

Doctor: “Imagine the hood of a Japanese convertible. The roof goes up, and when it comes back down, it fits perfectly into its base without problems, and is completely sealed. Now imagine the hood of an American convertible. When the roof comes back down, it doesn’t quite fit into the base; it’s off-center, and the air-conditioning will leak out and rain can get in. Your heart is an American car, and the valve is the convertible roof.”

(Two decades later, and I still love this doctor’s explanations to a confused kid.)

Their Behavior Is Not Hole-Hearted
Hawaii, Hospital, USA | Healthy | December 7, 2017
(I’m a young woman who was born with an innocent heart murmur that gets checked every few years; arrhythmia and mitral valve prolapse. I have recently suffered some strong heart palpitations that lasted an hour and left me exhausted and terrified that something’s wrong. After spending the night at the hospital, and the X-ray, EKG, and echo tests showing nothing new, I’m sent to a cardiologist for a stress test. After being stuck with enough wires that I look like a cyborg and 20 hellish “Now a little bit faster” minutes on the treadmill, I float light-headedly over to the exam table and lie down while they check the scans.)

Nurse #1 : “Oh, wow. [Nurse #2 ], come look at this.”

Nurse #2 : “Wow. I’ve never seen that outside of textbooks.”

Nurse #1 : “Me, too! Hey, look at this part–”

(While the nurses are ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ at the picture on the screen, I’m staring at them with rising concern. My worry spikes when the doctor herself comes into the room, sees what they’re looking at, and proceeds to talk about it to them like she’s teaching a university lesson. Finally, I raise one of my trembling cyborg arms.)

Me: *weakly* “Um… excuse me?”

Doctor: *looking at me with surprise* “Yes?”

Me: “Is… is something wrong?”

Doctor: “Oh, no. You just have a hole in your heart.”

Me: “…I have a WHAT?”

Doctor: “But that’s not what’s causing your palpitations.”

Me: “It’s… not?”

Doctor: “Nope. It’s small and near the top of your heart; it shouldn’t be affecting you at all. It just happens sometimes when your heart muscle sinks to the bottom.”

Me: “Oh… okay. So there’s a hole in my heart, but… it’s not a problem. So it’s okay.

Doctor: “Yep. You can come back to keep an eye on it, though, just to make sure it doesn’t get any bigger.”

Me: “?!”

(That did not fill me with confidence, surprisingly. They never found a physical source for the palpitations, so eventually decided they were panic attacks, and I got to add ‘hole in the heart’ to my heart murmur repertoire.)

Doesn’t Have 20/20 Psychiatry
Psychiatrist, USA | Healthy | December 7, 2017
(I’ve suffered from mental health issues since I was young, but I wasn’t able to do anything about it because my family has issues believing that mental illness is real. A few years ago, while I was in college, things got really bad so I finally tried to tell my parents about it. It took a few months of frustration and arguing, but I eventually managed to convince them it was actually an issue. They found a psychiatrist I could see and I was excited at first. I thought I’d be able to get some help! I’d hardly walked in the door before I realized there would be a problem.)

Psychiatrist: *shaking my hand* “So, how old are you?”

Me: “I’m turning 20 next month.”

Psychiatrist: *laughs* “20? You’re far too young to have any problems! Why are you even here?”

Me: “Young or not, I actually do have a lot of symptoms I’m worried about.”

(I hand her a list I’d made of symptoms I’d been struggling with, including some rather severe ones. She sets it aside after barely glancing at it.)

Psychiatrist: “Why don’t you just tell me about yourself? Do you have a boyfriend?”

Me: “Um… no, I don’t?”

Psychiatrist: “Why don’t we talk about that. It might be causing some of your ‘issues.’”

(It was only downhill from there. She dismissed all my symptoms, including my suicidal ideation and dissociation, as nothing more than school stress or lacking a boyfriend. I was told I just needed to get out of the house more often and make a few friends, something my parents insisted was a cure-all as well. Ever since that day, nothing I’ve said has been able to convince them otherwise. The only reason I’ve improved at all — and mostly stopped being suicidal — is because of my college’s psychologist. I’d only found out there was a doctor on campus afterwards, and after meeting him, he was shocked I’d managed to make it as far as I had without any help at all. I’m living back at home now that I’ve graduated, only until I can find work, but he helped me immensely while I was still enrolled. I don’t think I would have survived school without his help.)

You Might Need To Sit Down For This
Hospital, Pennsylvania, Pittsburgh, USA | Healthy | December 6, 2017
(My mom and I have just arrived at the emergency room after being sent from a local fast ER over possible appendicitis. While we are getting checked in, an older man arrives.)

Man: “I’m having chest pain and pain in my arm.”

Nurse: “We’re taking you back immediately, sir. Please get in this wheelchair.”

Man: “No thanks; I’m good to walk.”

Nurse: “Please, sir, take a seat in the wheelchair.”

Man: “No, I insist I’m good to walk.”

Mom: “Take a d*** seat in the chair. If you’re having a heart attack do you really want to be walking right now?”

(He sat in the chair and grumbled while they took him away.)

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.)

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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!)

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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.)

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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!)

Has To Be Some Kind Of Record
Hospital, USA, Wisconsin | Healthy | November 25, 2017
Customer: “I need my birth record in order to request a new Social Security card, because I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate.”

(This is a fairly common request, so I nod as I look over his Release of Information to make sure all the fields have been completed. Before I get to the end, he adds:)

Customer: “I wasn’t actually born at this hospital. Does that matter?”

(Yes, it matters. He left empty-handed.)

County The Ways
California, Clinic, USA | Healthy | November 24, 2017
(I work for a non-profit medical clinic. Because the county we operate in provides a pretty broad range of services, we have a lot of patients who labor under the belief that we are associated with the county. We are not and never have been. I overhear my colleague who is working the front desk engaging with a patient.)

Patient: “So you’re part of the county, right?”

Colleague: “No, we are in no way associated with the county.”

Patient: “Oh, so you contract with them?”

Colleague: “No. We are not contracted by, subcontract with, or in any way work for or answer to the county.”

Patient: “So, you’re subcontracted with the county.”

Colleague: “No, we are not. We are in no way, shape, or form any part of the county services.”

Patient: *sounding confused* “Oh.”

(A moment later.)

Patient: “So can you send [paperwork] through this fax machine?” *gestures at printer*

Colleague: “That isn’t a fax machine.”

Patient: “Can you fax it from here?”

Colleague: “No, we do not have a fax machine here.”

Patient: *confused* “Oh.”

(After the patient has been called in to see the provider.)

Me: *to Colleague, teasing* “So hey, [Colleague], aren’t we part of the county?”

Colleague: *throws hands in the air* “Apparently!”

Me: “Someone should tell [Boss]. He won’t have to worry about that [specific] grant anymore!”

Millennial Problems Don’t Have Legs To Stand On
Grocery Store, Ohio, USA | Healthy | November 24, 2017
(I’m 20, and I use a wheelchair because my leg muscles can’t support me. I’m at the grocery store with my boyfriend and talking to someone at the bakery who we know personally when a woman walks up to us.)

Woman: “Oh, another lazy teen. Why can’t you just walk normally?”

Me: “Uhm, because I have a medical condition?”

Woman: “Don’t you lie! You just don’t wanna walk like everyone else!”

Boyfriend: “She can’t even stand up without assistance. She’s not lazy.”

Woman: “Oh, so you’re in on this, too?!” *looks at bakery clerk* “Do you see what this generation is doing?!”

Clerk: “Yeah, people who regularly see a doctor about their medical problems. She’s been in a wheelchair since I met her.”

Woman: “UGH! LAZY ENTITLED BRATS!” *storms off*

(We laugh after she leaves. The bakery clerk gives us a couple baked goods for half off for the trouble.)

An Acute Case Of A**-holery
Hospital, Israel | Healthy | November 24, 2017
(I work at a hospital. It’s my lunch break, so I go to sit with a friend, who works as a secretary for the hematology clinic. We’re just talking about stuff; there aren’t many clients when this one guy comes in.)

Client: “My name is [Client].”

Friend: “Just a second…” *goes through the appointment list*

(Should be noted that he should’ve brought a referral with him, which he didn’t. Nevertheless, we find the appointment on the list.)

Client: “My case.”

Friend: “Okay, I know. I’ll give it to the doctor—”

Client: “My case, now.”

Friend: “Okay, I get it, I’ll bring it to him now.”

(This guy then followed my friend around to the doctor’s room. When he left an hour later, he didn’t even acknowledge us. He just talked loudly on his phone until my friend gave him his next appointment date and then he just left. That’s an a**-hole, if you ask me…)

Doctor, You Pain Me
Hospital, USA | Healthy | November 23, 2017
(I’m talking to my doctor about a procedure that will prevent future pain. He is familiar with my medical history.)

Doctor: “The surgery will really hurt.”

Me: “But it will be temporary right?”

Doctor: “Yes. But it will REALLY hurt.”

Me: “I’m fine with that if it stops the current pain.”

Doctor: “I don’t think you understand. This will be horrible pain. You’ll have to lie in bed for at least a week.”

Me: “Doctor. I’ve been run through. Do you think it’ll be worse than that?”

Doctor: “No.”

Me: “Then I want to do it.”

Doctor: “But it will hurt!”

(He didn’t let me do it.)

It’s Halal, Not Ha-LOL
Hospital, North Carolina, Religion, USA | Healthy | November 23, 2017
(I am a white teenage girl, just admitted to a ward and I am asleep. The nurse saw me come in with a t-shirt and jeans even though now I’m in a normal hospital gown.)

Dad: “Can my daughter get special meals?”

Nurse: “What kind? Is it an allergy?”

Dad: “She’s Muslim and needs halal food.”

Nurse: *odd look* “Muslim?”

Dad: “Yes.”

Nurse: “That’s ridiculous. She didn’t wear a hijab.”

Dad: “She rarely does, but she is Muslim.”

Nurse: “Then she isn’t really Muslim. She just plays dress up and has a fad diet like all teenagers.” *starts leaving*

Dad: “Oi! She is Muslim and needs halal food. She’s strict about that.”

Nurse: “Yeah, right.”

(My dad gave up and found another nurse who understood and made sure I got halal meals. It could have been much worse.)

Graduated Up To A Personalized Service
Pennsylvania, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | November 23, 2017
(I am picking up my medicine and in order to do so, you must give your name and birth date, including year.)

Clerk: “Name?”

Me: “[My Name].”

Clerk: “Birthday?”

Me: “[Date].”

Clerk: “That’s the same day I graduated. To the day.”

Me: “And year. Next time you ask, I’m just going to say, ‘the exact day you graduated.’”

Sickening Lack Of Attentiveness
Hospital, Switzerland | Healthy | November 22, 2017
(I’m staying at the hospital because of an exploded appendix. Unfortunately, the surgery goes wrong and I end up with several complications. One of them includes not being able to hold any liquid, not even the liquid my stomach produces. So despite not eating or drinking anything, I spend several days (around a week) vomiting up green goo until I finally manage to get that under control. A few days later, I’m chatting with a nurse when I suddenly feel the need to barf again! Thankfully, there’s a vomit-bag sitting right next to the nurse.)

Me: *with some urgency* “Can you please give me the vomit bag?”

Nurse: *shocked* “What? I thought you were done with that?”

(At this point I’m afraid that if I talk any more I will just start projectile vomiting so I just stare at her, hoping she’ll get the hint. But the nurse just stares back at me for what seems like an eternity, expecting me to answer the question.)

Me: “Quickly!”

(The nurse finally scrambled to get the bag, but by the time she got it, I’d already started vomiting all over the floor. I sure hope she’ll be more attentive in the future!)

The Sad Estate Of This Family
Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | November 22, 2017
(I work at a long-term care pharmacy. We service patients in nursing homes, assisted living, etc. and bill prescription costs monthly. Of course, this means we have trouble with people not paying their bill. Part of my job is to make collections calls. I hear all kinds of excuses, but this was a first.)

Man: “Hello?”

Me: “Hello, this is [My Name] calling from [Pharmacy]. Is [Person #1 ] available?”

Man: “Nope, he’s in jail over in [County].”

Me: *not sure how to respond* “I’m sorry to hear that… I also have [Person #2 ] listed as an authorized contact. May I speak with her?”

Man: “Nope, can’t talk to her either. She’s dead.”

Me: *now REALLY not sure how to respond* “I’m sorry to hear that, too. I’m calling in reference to [Patient]’s account. Who could I speak with that handles [Patient]’s finances?”

Man: “Not him. He’s dead now, too. His wife’s still living but she’s got ‘all-timers’ disease so she won’t be much help.”

Me: *basically at a loss for words at this point* “There must be someone handling [Patient]’s estate. Who would that be?”

Man: “Couldn’t tell you. The only one I know of that’s not dead, locked up, or crazy is [Person #3 ]. She’s probably the best you’re going to get.”

(Turned out [Person #3 ] was extremely nice and helpful, and promptly sent a check for the full balance. She must have been the shining star in a family of “dead, locked up, and crazy!”)

Making Sure You All (Co)Pay Dearly
Money, Pharmacy, Stupid, USA | Healthy | November 22, 2017
(I work at a long-term care pharmacy. We bill prescriptions monthly, and always get angry phone calls a few days after statements go out.)

Me: “[Pharmacy], this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Angry Man: “What kind of scam are you all running out there?”

Me: “Sir?”

Angry Man: “Do you think you’re going to get away with charging these outrageous prices? I should report you for robbery!”

Me: “If you have questions about any charges, I’d be happy to explain them to you.”

Angry Man: “As a matter of fact you can! I’d like to know why you’re charging me $50 for a month’s worth of [medication]!”

(I pull up the claim and go through my normal spiel of how we submit a claim to the insurance company, they respond with how much they’ll pay and how much of a copay we need to collect from the patient, and how we have no influence over the cost of the copay, as this is determined by the plan, etc.)

Angry Man: “Well then, how come I can go to [Other Pharmacy] and get three months’ worth for $150?”

Me: “Sir, that’s the same price.”

Angry Man: “You’re trying to tell me that $50 and $150 are the same thing? How stupid can you be to have your job?”

Me: *remembering to be professional and not sarcastic* “No, sir. I’m telling you that $50 for a 30 day supply and $150 for a 90 day supply is exactly the same price.”

Angry Man: “I can’t pay $50 every month for one prescription! I’ll go broke! I’m going to be using [Other Pharmacy] from now on so I can get more for a decent price! And I’m going up to [Nursing Home] and telling everyone there that you’re robbing them!”

Me: *slowly losing professionalism* “You have the right to use whatever pharmacy you like. If you feel the need to tell them that, I can’t stop you. But if they can do basic math, they’ll realize that copays are no different with us than they are anywhere else.”

Angry Man: “I know the tactics you people use to try to confuse me. You talk over my head hoping I’ll give up and pay your ridiculous price! You’re not going to fool me. I’m no dumb-a**!”

(At this point I was contemplating whether it would be worth the complaint I’d get if I said “Well, sir, you certainly could’ve fooled me,” but he slammed the phone down, making my decision for me. People are unbelievably dumb!)