Doctor Nose Best
Boston, Family & Kids, Massachusetts, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | November 21, 2017
(I am a pediatrician. A woman has come in with her little girl who is suffering from a rather infected finger. I diagnose her with a staph infection, prescribe some antibiotics, and send them home. At the end of the antibiotics, the woman is back in his office, and the infection has spread to several areas; a spot on the little girl’s face, the inside of her nose, and a spot on her leg. She demands that I run a million tests because I’m clearly a “failure of a doctor.”)

Me: “Ma’am, it appears that your daughter has spread the infection to other areas of her body, most likely through scratches or by touching a scratch that was already there.”

Mother: “That’s impossible! How would she get one in her nose? You’re just making excuses because you don’t want to run any tests!”

Me: “I can assure you, ma’am, that’s not the case. If I felt the need to, I would certainly run more tests, but there is no need for all that time, effort, and money when I can clearly see what the cause is. It’s more than 99% certain that she spread it through her nose by a scratch as the bacteria causing the infection is located under her fingernails. She picked her nose, scratched it, and spread the infection there.”

Mother: *turns bright red* “That’s ridiculous! My little princess would never do anything so disgusting as pick her nose! We’re just going to go and get a second opinion! You’ll be run out of business, you’ll see!”

(We turn around to see her “little princess” with a finger very far up her nose indeed. The mother grows nearly purple at this point and swats her daughter’s hand away from her face.)

Me: “So I’ll be prescribing that next round of antibiotics, then?”

His Humor Is Straight As An Arrow
England, Hospital, Non-Dialogue, UK | Healthy | November 21, 2017
Before I retired, I spent many years working permanent nights in operating theatres, giving skilled assistance to the anaesthetist. We performed emergency surgery in quite a few fields but our main area of expertise was plastic surgery.

One night, a young man was brought into the anaesthetic room conscious, calm, and pain-free. We started to talk about what had happened to him. He was a competitive archer and he presented with a carbon fibre arrow through his left hand! On one side there was about a foot of gleaming black arrow with a perfect flight and on the other side there was a hideous splay of fractured carbon fibre. He explained that the only problem with carbon fibre arrows is that they are susceptible to damage if one strikes another in the target. He simply didn’t notice that this particular arrow had been weakened and when he released it the torque caused it to fracture and it punched through his hand.

I started to formally check him in: looking at his wristband I asked him to state his name and date of birth. Both tallied. “When did you last have anything to eat or drink?” Quite a few hours, so no problem. “Are you allergic to anything, especially any drugs or medicines?” No allergies. “Do you have any jewellery or body piercings?” He gestured towards his left hand: “Oh, just the one…”

I felt myself going bright red and we both giggled. We sent him off to sleep and the surgeon removed the arrow, cleaned up and debrided the wound, and carefully checked to see if he’d damaged any of the structures inside his hand. Fortunately, nothing significant had been affected – he was very lucky.

On nights we multitask, so I had to supervise his recovery from the anaesthetic. Before discharging him to the ward, I made sure that he could remember his snappy reply. “You’ll be dining out on that one, I’m sure!”

The ‘Feeling’ Is Mutual
California, Phone, USA | Healthy | November 21, 2017
(I’ve had some pain for several weeks, but recently had a medical test that found nothing wrong. After telling me this result, the doctor left and sent me on my way without any recommendations about how to feel better. I was frustrated so I asked her assistant to have the doctor call me back as soon as possible. I don’t get the call for a few days, and when the doctor finally does call, she sounds annoyed and uninterested.)

Doctor: *on the phone* “So there’s really nothing I can do for you. This sort of thing happens to everyone as they get older…” *stops listening to me and launches into a long standard spiel about aging and health*

Me: *struggling to get a word in edgewise, I finally have an idea* “So, how are you feeling?”

Doctor: “Wha… what?”

Me: *trying not to laugh at how I finally stopped her in her tracks* “I said, how are you feeling?”

Doctor: “You… you’re not supposed to ask me that! I’m supposed to tell you what to do!”

Me: “Well, you must feel one way or another. You are human, right?”

Doctor: *speechless*

(When she finally got her brain back on track, she humbly recommended a doctor at a different hospital who might actually be able to help me!)

Flu Right Past The Diagnosis
Hospital, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA | Healthy | November 20, 2017
(I am in so much pain that I have a friend drive me to the ER. Note: I commonly have stomach problems and this pain is certainly NOT in my stomach. I get seen fairly quickly and given pain medicine but am still in some pain in spite of it.)

Doctor: “Did you recently have the flu?”

Me: “Yes, but this isn’t the flu.”

Doctor: “Yes, it is; it is causing you more pain because you’ve gotten it two times in a row. The pain is in your colon.”

Me: “I’ve had issues like that before. This is not it. Digestive pain does not happen on one side. Check your tests again.”

(The doctor leaves. I continue to experience pain and walk around to try to relieve it as sitting down seems to make it worse. Finally a nurse comes and tells me they are taking me to get an ultrasound.)

Me: “So what happened? Did he finally believe me?”

Nurse: “Yes, your pee sample came back and you had blood in it. You probably have a kidney stone.”

(Guess what was confirmed by the ultrasound? Never have I wanted to punch a doctor so badly. The flu indeed!)

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.)

Allergic To Common Sense, Part 12
Health & Body, Restaurant, USA, Washington DC | Healthy | November 15, 2017
(I’m a manager for a popular casual restaurant. I receive a phone call from an upset customer.)

Caller: “Why don’t you offer allergy menus? My daughter almost died from eating calamari! Why would you serve her something that she is allergic to, and she’s pregnant!”

Me: “I do apologize for your daughter’s condition and we do offer a dozen different types of menus which do include an allergen menu, nutritional menus, large print menus, etc.”

Caller: “How am I supposed to know you have these menus?!”

Me: “Did you ask? Also, if your daughter knew she was allergic to calamari, why would she order it?”

Caller: “She didn’t know she was allergic to it! That’s why I was asking about the allergen menu!”

Me: “Okay, so, if she doesn’t know that she is allergic to calamari, how are we supposed to know?”

Caller: *realizes the paradox* “Well, she’s pregnant and I am really scared.”

(I’m a mom of two.)

Me: “I understand you are scared and when a person is pregnant their body goes through a lot of changes; consult with the doctor and I hope she will be okay.”

(I never got a call back I wonder if she still thinks we should automatically know if someone is allergic to something.)

Allergic To Common Sense, Part 11
Restaurant | Right | February 22, 2017
(I work in a southwestern-themed restaurant, and many of our recipes include similar spices, just in different amounts. Onion is one of the most prominent ingredients in our recipes, and we sometimes get a request for ‘no onion’ in certain items. We can make some things, but it’d be pretty much just lettuce, cheese, and any number of fresh chopped vegetables that aren’t onion or mixed with anything that has onion in it. As such, I get this man in line.)

Customer: “I’d like a burrito.”

Me: “Okay, would you like that with or without guacamole today?”

Customer: “With.”

(The guacamole has onion in it.)

Me: “What kind of meat on your burrito?”

Customer: “Chicken.”

(The chicken has onion in the seasoning.)

Me: “Any rice or beans?”

Customer: “Sure, I’ll take [rice with onion in it], and [beans with onion in them].”

Me: “Any grilled vegetables?”

Customer: “Ooh, no, thank you. I’m allergic to onion.”

Me: “Sir… if you’re allergic to onions then I highly suggest you don’t eat this burrito. There is a load of onion in it already.”

Customer: “Oh, no, I’m only allergic to onion that I can see.”

(Eight years of culinary experience, and this is the first time I’ve heard that excuse. I made him his burrito – leaving off anything with visible onion – and he went on his way. No complaints yet.)



1 Thumbs
733

40

Allergic To Common Sense, Part 11
Restaurant | Right | February 22, 2017
(I work in a southwestern-themed restaurant, and many of our recipes include similar spices, just in different amounts. Onion is one of the most prominent ingredients in our recipes, and we sometimes get a request for ‘no onion’ in certain items. We can make some things, but it’d be pretty much just lettuce, cheese, and any number of fresh chopped vegetables that aren’t onion or mixed with anything that has onion in it. As such, I get this man in line.)

Customer: “I’d like a burrito.”

Me: “Okay, would you like that with or without guacamole today?”

Customer: “With.”

(The guacamole has onion in it.)

Me: “What kind of meat on your burrito?”

Customer: “Chicken.”

(The chicken has onion in the seasoning.)

Me: “Any rice or beans?”

Customer: “Sure, I’ll take [rice with onion in it], and [beans with onion in them].”

Me: “Any grilled vegetables?”

Customer: “Ooh, no, thank you. I’m allergic to onion.”

Me: “Sir… if you’re allergic to onions then I highly suggest you don’t eat this burrito. There is a load of onion in it already.”

Customer: “Oh, no, I’m only allergic to onion that I can see.”

(Eight years of culinary experience, and this is the first time I’ve heard that excuse. I made him his burrito – leaving off anything with visible onion – and he went on his way. No complaints yet.)

Allergic To Common Sense, Part 10
Restaurant | Right | September 27, 2016
(I am a cashier at a restaurant. We are a small business and the owners are still working on the perfect way to run the business. A couple walks in and orders at the counter as usual. After finding a table, the woman returns to the counter.)

Customer: “Excuse me; do you have any larger chairs? My husband is too large to fit in these.”

(I know we don’t have any, but I go in the back to ask the owner for advice anyway. I return to the counter with no real solution.)

Me: *”No, ma’am. We don’t have any larger chairs; I’m sorry for your husband’s discomfort.”

Customer: “Okay, thanks anyway.”

(She goes back to her table, visibly upset. The husband returns to fill his drink, and I notice he is wearing an adult bib. They eat all their food with seemingly no complaints. They talk for a few minutes, and then the wife returns to the counter.)

Customer: “Excuse me, I’m having an allergic reaction. Is the manager around?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Let me go grab the owner for you.”

Owner: “What’s wrong, ma’am ?”

Customer: “My throat is itchy. I’m allergic to something in your food. Could you name the ingredients for me?”

Owner: *names every ingredient in the food she and her husband has eaten*

Customer: “I’m not allergic to any of that.”

Owner: “I’m sorry, ma’am, then you didn’t have an allergic reaction here.”

Customer: *becoming more angry by the second* “I said my throat is itchy and I’m having an allergic reaction! Don’t you care at all about your customers?”

Owner: “Would you like me to call an ambulance?”

Customer: “No! I’m fine! We were just leaving!”

(She pulled her husband out the door. He seemed indifferent to her “allergic reaction.” He even waved to us on the way out.)

Allergic To Common Sense, Part 10
Restaurant | Right | September 27, 2016
(I am a cashier at a restaurant. We are a small business and the owners are still working on the perfect way to run the business. A couple walks in and orders at the counter as usual. After finding a table, the woman returns to the counter.)

Customer: “Excuse me; do you have any larger chairs? My husband is too large to fit in these.”

(I know we don’t have any, but I go in the back to ask the owner for advice anyway. I return to the counter with no real solution.)

Me: *”No, ma’am. We don’t have any larger chairs; I’m sorry for your husband’s discomfort.”

Customer: “Okay, thanks anyway.”

(She goes back to her table, visibly upset. The husband returns to fill his drink, and I notice he is wearing an adult bib. They eat all their food with seemingly no complaints. They talk for a few minutes, and then the wife returns to the counter.)

Customer: “Excuse me, I’m having an allergic reaction. Is the manager around?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Let me go grab the owner for you.”

Owner: “What’s wrong, ma’am ?”

Customer: “My throat is itchy. I’m allergic to something in your food. Could you name the ingredients for me?”

Owner: *names every ingredient in the food she and her husband has eaten*

Customer: “I’m not allergic to any of that.”

Owner: “I’m sorry, ma’am, then you didn’t have an allergic reaction here.”

Customer: *becoming more angry by the second* “I said my throat is itchy and I’m having an allergic reaction! Don’t you care at all about your customers?”

Owner: “Would you like me to call an ambulance?”

Customer: “No! I’m fine! We were just leaving!”

(She pulled her husband out the door. He seemed indifferent to her “allergic reaction.” He even waved to us on the way out.)

Allergic To Common Sense, Part 9
Sandwich Shop | Right | June 24, 2016
(I work in a busy sandwich shop in a retail centre. It’s relatively quiet when a man and his two sons enter. They are regulars, but are usually rude. The father ignores us and plays with his phone while the kids order.)

Me: “And what salad would you like?”

Son #1 : *reels off salads* “…and onions. And [burger sauce].”

Me: *wraps his sandwich for him and hands it over before moving on*

(A few minutes after the father has paid, he storms back to the counter with Son #1 ’s sandwich.)

Father: “There are onions in here. He cannot eat onions. He is allergic!”

Me: *worried about the allergy* “I’m so sorry! Do you need me to call emergency services?!

Father: “What? No. He’s just allergic!”

Me: *I’m confused, but relieved more than anything* “Okay, I’m very sorry! I’ll make you a new one straight away.”

(I make the new sandwich as before, and ask the boy over to tell me his salad items again.)

Son #1 : *reels off his salads* “And onion.”

Me: *hesitates* “I’m sorry, but your father asked me not to add onions.”

Father: *from other side of restaurant* “NO ONIONS!”

Son #1 : *sighs* “Fine. But I want the [burger sauce]!”

Me: “I’m afraid that sauce has onions—”

Father: “NO ONION!”

Me: “—is there anything else I can offer you?”

Son #1 : “I just want the d*** [burger sauce]!”

Father: *storms up to counter* “He can have the sauce!”

Me: “The [burger sauce] contains onions so I’m not comf—”

Father: “Just give him the sauce!”

Me: *shrugs and puts the sauce on, adding extra when asked before wrapping the sandwich up*

Father: *snatches sandwich before I can bag it* “No onion! Was that so hard to understand?” *storms off again*

(They spent the rest of their meal glaring at me while I worked and left their mess all over the table, including the original sandwich they rejected. When I went to clean up, I find all of the onion had been removed from the sandwich and was nowhere to be seen.)

Pokémon Go To The Doctors
Finland, Medical Office, Pokemon | Healthy | November 15, 2017
(It is right around the time when Pokémon Go has come out. I take a fairly serious fall and injure my hip. When it doesn’t improve after a few days, I go to a doctor who specializes in sports injuries.)

Doctor: “How did you injure your hip?”

Me: “I fell off a stepladder.”

Doctor: “Oh, thank goodness! You’re the first patient I’ve had all week who didn’t injure themselves playing Pokémon Go.”

Enough To Make You Slap Your Forehead
Pharmacy, Sweden | Healthy | November 15, 2017
(I work at a pharmacy. A patient is complaining about a spray she had bought a couple of days ago.)

Patient: “It did absolutely not work! It is a nasal spray for sinusitis! Since it contains cortisone, it should work!”

Me: “How do you use it?”

(I ask, since the biggest problem with stuff like this is that you usually use maybe too little, too much, or just plain wrong. She looks at me, a little offended.)

Patient: *sounding annoyed* “Well, I use it as the description says! Two sprays once a day!”

(I think long and hard about how it couldn’t have made any difference for her.)

Patient: “Besides, it gets so messy, and it doesn’t dry quickly at all!”

Me: *can’t wrap my brains about what she meant* “Can you please explain?”

(She took out the spray with a annoyed sigh and held it up against her forehead. She had used the nasal spray on her forehead. I tried my absolute hardest not to laugh and explained as professionally as I could that the spray for sinusitis is to be sprayed in your nose, and not on your forehead.)

Man, What A Mistake!
The Netherlands, Vet | Healthy | November 14, 2017
(I am 18 years old and have recently moved out on my own and finally bought my very first pet, a golden hamster. I bring the hamster to the vet because I notice quite a large lump near the hind quarters and I want to check it out.)

Me: “Yes, see, the lump is quite big.”

Vet: “You mean here?”

Me: “Yes, I hope it is not serious.”

Vet: *nearly dying of laughter* “Those are his male genitals. He seems to be quite healthy.”

Me: “Oh, my god! I am so sorry! Really? The sales person at the store said she was a girl!”

Vet: “Well, it’s a healthy boy.”

Me: “I feel really stupid, but thanks!”

(Don’t worry for my hamster. He lived quite a healthy happy life until nearly three-and-a-half years old, even though he went through life named “Rose.”)

Ensuring The Insulin Is Insul-out
Hospital, Mississippi, USA | Healthy | November 14, 2017
(I work in the satellite pharmacy at my hospital. A triage technician is always on hand to answer calls and messages from doctors, nurses, and other pharmacists. It’s a difficult job that requires deft technicians: some of the calls they get raise issues that are difficult to resolve, and others are just plain goofy. D5W is short for a stock solution of 5% dextrose sugar in water.)

Triage Tech: *picking up the phone* “Pharmacy, how can I help you?” *pause* “No, ma’am, I don’t believe those two are compatible with each other. ” *pause* “What? No, no, I don’t actually know offhand if the drug would precipitate out or react with the D5W in any way. I could look that up for you, but in this case I really don’t think it’s necessary. ” *pause* “You’re asking me if you can add insulin to D5W” *pause* “You want to infuse your patient with both sugar and insulin at once. Just… please… don’t.”

Kindness In Death
England, Hospital, London, Non-Dialogue, UK | Healthy | November 14, 2017
I used to work in an oncology unit specialising in gastrointestinal cancers – the sort of thing that, by the time it got to us, all we could do was arrange for palliative treatment to make the time the patient had left longer and more comfortable. I handled phone calls from the patients and families, all of whom were obviously upset and as a result not as thoughtful as they might have been.

Sometimes, they had a right to be abrasive, though. One man whose mother needed an urgent chemotherapy booking had been left hanging for weeks, and the registrar who was supposed to be handling the booking hadn’t done anything despite the fact that her prognosis was dwindling all the time. Eventually, I got fed up; I grabbed the patient file and the documentation that he hadn’t signed yet, interrupted the consultant at lunch, stood over him until he checked and signed the document, delivered everything to the ward personally, and, apologising to the still-furious son of the patient, told him his mother had an appointment the following day.

Less than a month later, I got word that the patient in that story had died. Two days after that, reception told me that said patient’s son was on his way to my office. I was sure he was coming to berate me to my face… but when he turned up, it was with a small silk rose and a small box of chocolates. He told me that he wanted to apologise for losing his temper, and tell me how grateful he was for how hard I’d worked to see that his mother got proper care.

I am never going to forget the man who managed to be so thoughtful of someone else even with such a recent bereavement. It’s the yardstick to which I hold my behaviour to this day.

Getting Your Religion With Surgical Precision
Hospital, Religion, Texas, USA | Healthy | November 13, 2017
(I get a phone call from the hospital where I’ll be having outpatient surgery at in a few days. The nurse is asking me personal questions about my medical history, medicines, and gets to questions about religion. I’m atheist.)

Nurse: “Do you have any spiritual or religious objections that interfere with this surgery?”

Me: “No, ma’am.”

Nurse: “Do you go to church?”

Me: “No, ma’am.”

Nurse: *pauses* “Well, that’s okay. What religion are you?”

Me: “None.”

Nurse: “None?”

Me: “Yes, none. I’m atheist.”

Nurse: *takes long pause*

Me: “Are you there, ma’am?”

Nurse: “Do you need prayer?”

Me: “…what?”

Nurse: “Would you like prayer before the surgery?”

Me: “No…? I’m fine without prayer. But thanks.”

Nurse: “Have you ever been to church?”

Me: “Yes.”

Nurse: *long pause, then whispered* “Well, that’s okay.”

(We continued after that without any problems or weird pauses.)

When Patients Aren’t
Australia, Hospital, Non-Dialogue | Healthy | November 13, 2017
It’s a Friday night, and my dad has been really sick all week. It eventually gets to the point where he needs to go to the emergency room. Being a Friday night, the ER is relatively full.

Once he gets there, and speaks to the nurse, he is immediately given a wheelchair and taken straight through. The looks of disgust and just pure hatred he got from everyone in the waiting room was astonishing.

He had pneumonia, and had he arrived even an hour later, chances are he would have died.

Seriously, if someone is taken straight through at the emergency room, chances are their problems are probably worse than yours!

1 Thumbs
462

0


Making A Point About The Time To Appoint
Hospital, USA | Healthy | November 13, 2017
(My doctor’s appointment is at two pm. The nearest bus stop is an hour from my house, so I have to catch a ride with my mom at seven am. Her work has a bus stop right next to it. By eleven am, I have finally made it to the hospital. I go to the front desk to check in.)

Me: “Hi! I know I’m early, sorry, but I can just wait.”

Nurse: *loud sigh* “I’ll see if I can have him see you earlier.”

Me: “No, it’s really fine. I ride the bus, so I’m always early because I’m afraid of being late. It’s fine. I’m sorry I’m so early.”

Nurse: “Just sit down.”

(I went to sit down and listened as she called the doctor. Even though I didn’t want her to, she fiddled with the schedule until the doctor could see me early. The vitals nurse and doctor told me how inconsiderate I was for wanting to be seen early. It is a miserable appointment.)

They’re Massaging The Truth
Chicago, Illinois, Spa, USA | Healthy | November 12, 2017
(Where I work the hands-on part of the massage is 50 minutes. There is a client who knows this, as I and others have told him several times, yet he always pretends to be surprised and mad about it. He has been coming in two or three times a month for over a year. It always goes something like this:)

Me: *after discussing what he wants worked on* “Okay, you can undress and start face down, I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

Client: “A couple minutes?! Why? I’ll only be ten seconds! Don’t go anywhere.”

Me: “I need to return your file up front and wash my hands. I’ll be two minutes.”

Client: “I only need ten second to undress.”

Me: “Okay. I’ll see you in a couple minutes.” *closes door*

(Often when I’m in the break room washing my hands I can hear his voice out in the hall saying: “I’m ready! Hello? Hello?” I give him his 50 minutes hands-on massage, and end at, say, 6:55.)

Me: “Okay, thank you. I’ll go get you some water and—”

Client: “Done?! Already?”

Me: “I’m afraid so!”

Client: “Why?”

Me: “Well, that’s all of our time. I have another client at seven.”

Client: “Yes, so we have five more minutes.”

Me: “The hands on portion of our massage is 50 minutes.” *as you’ve been told several times, you idiot!*

Client: “Why?”

Me: “I’ll go get you your water and meet you in the hall.”

(He is sometimes grumpy when he meets me in the hall, or sometimes he thanks me and says he feels great. Either way, he always complains to the front desk that I ended five minutes early, and they always tell him that I did not and that he paid for a 50-minute hands-on massage!)

They Don’t Nose What They’re Doing
Hospital, Montana, Non-Dialogue, USA | Healthy | November 11, 2017
In a matter of two days, what I thought was a pimple in my nostril turned into something horrific. I wake up in the middle of the night to the entire lower half of my face swollen. I have a high fever. I have no choice but to venture to the ER.

The whole time the ER nurses are questioning me, I’m feeling condescended to. They seem to think that since I’m not in a great deal of pain that the swelling can be written off as basically nothing. They give me three pills to send me on my way. The next night the swelling is worse, I’m throwing up and in a great deal of pain. I return to the ER. They “lance” my nose but hardly try to get anything out. They give me more of the same pills and Percocet. They claim the swelling will go away in 24 hours and not to worry; it’s nothing serious.

My aunt and mother grow extremely concerned. My aunt calls around and finds a nose specialist/surgeon. I talk to him on the phone. He wants to see me immediately — also, it’s his day off! My mother ends up flying in because she is so worried. She makes it just in time and goes in the room with me to see the specialist. He takes one look at me and says, “We need to perform surgery immediately.”

He essentially had to cut open my nose, drain it, and put a tube in it. He got about a cup’s worth of infection out. After the surgery, he pulls my mother aside and asks what the emergency room tried to do help me to get better. To sum it up they essentially gave me the wrong type of medicine and overlooked my condition. He tells my mother that if I waited another couple days to see him I might have died. The infection could have traveled in my blood stream to my brain and become deadly. This happens frequently due to the location of the infection, and people die from ERs overlooking it.

You Walked Right Into That One
Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Oklahoma, USA | Healthy | November 10, 2017
My boyfriend is away on a trip for several days. On the first day, he scrapes his leg on something, but the cut isn’t deep and he doesn’t think anything about it. By the end of his trip, his leg is swollen, sore, and hot to the touch. When he gets home he can barely put weight on it, and once we get ice on it and the swelling goes down, we see that his calf muscle is knotted up, creating a huge ‘dent’ in his leg. Worried that it could be something like a blood clot, I insist on rushing him to the ER.

We get there, and my boyfriend insists on walking in, though I drop him off as close to the doors as I can, so he doesn’t have to limp too far. He almost doesn’t make it through signing all of the paperwork because standing hurts so much. We get to the back quickly, and a doctor sees us and states that they will do an ultrasound to rule out a clot. All good so far.

After the ultrasound tech leaves we wait. And wait. For about an hour.

Finally, a nurse comes in and asks if we’re ready to leave. After some confused glances, we point out that we were never given a diagnosis. The nurse apologizes, saying she thought we’d already spoken to the doctor because our paperwork was up for discharge, but she’ll go get him right away.

Okaaay…

The doctor comes in, tells us it isn’t a clot, and that it must be an infection. What kind of infection is not stated (they didn’t test to find out), and she bids us goodbye after stating that there will be a prescription for antibiotics for him at our pharmacy.

Then my boyfriend tries to get up… but can’t. After an hour and a half of having his leg elevated, bringing it below waist level is incredibly painful and he can’t manage it. Note: I am 5’3″ and 170 lbs; he is 6’4″ and 260 lbs. I cannot help him out alone.

I go out into the main hall and explain the situation to the doctor, and how we need some way to get my boyfriend up and out of the ER. He says, okay, we’ll get him some pain medication. Cool. Sounds like a plan. So we wait again.

For. Another. HOUR.

Finally, I venture out again and flag down a nurse. Guess what: THEY FORGOT WE WERE STILL THERE. Like, just completely forgot a patient was still in a room.

The nurse has to go flag down the doctor again, and I go back to the room. Not too long after, a new nurse comes in and hands my boyfriend a piece of paper. It’s a scrip for pain medication, to be filled at our pharmacy. So… you know… not helpful in the least with our current predicament.

We explain to the nurse the problem, and she responds, in the most condescending voice possible, ‘Well, you walked INTO the ER, so clearly you CAN walk.’

Both my boyfriend and myself are just stunned by the audacity of the statement. When he came in at triage he gave his pain as an eight. We are now telling them it has gotten worse, and the response we’re getting is basically ‘walk it off, p****.’

Attempts to reason with her are fruitless — she just repeats the same thing to us and even implies that we are being ungrateful for the better prescription for pain medicine (‘Originally, we were only prescribing you ibuprofen, but we were nice enough to write you this prescription, too’). After arguing in circles with her for a few minutes, my boyfriend builds up enough rage-adrenaline to heave himself out of bed and just grit through the pain, though he turns bright red in doing it. The nurse seems to take this as a victory and flounces off — no offer for a wheelchair or crutches, even just to get to the car.

On the way to the car we agreed that unless one of us is actively dying, we’re going to the next town over for ER care from now on.

Numb To Death
Hospital, Kansas, USA | Healthy | November 10, 2017
(Earlier this year I have cataract surgery on my right eye, and I am very nervous about it, never having had eye surgery before. The nurse knows this and is doing her best to keep me calm while waiting for the surgeon. Then this happens:)

Me: “Will I feel anything during surgery?”

Nurse: “Oh, no, your eye will be dead!”

Me: “…”

Nurse: “Sorry, numb! Your eye will be numb!”

(Whew.)

You’re A Cabron
California, Hospital, USA, Wordplay | Healthy | November 10, 2017
(I, and two friends, go to visit a friend in the hospital. We know his room number, but it doesn’t correlate to the floor he is on, so we head back down to reception to find that out. When we get there, there are people ahead of us. One of them rips into the receptionist (who is in a security guard uniform) because they hadn’t been speaking English. At least half the population of Orange County speaks Spanish, if not natively, very fluently, like most of southern California. I offer my opinion:)

Me: “I think the basic problem here is that you’re an a**-hole.”

Man: “You think I’m an a**-hole because I think they should speak English?”

Me: “Yes. That’s why I think you’re an a**-hole.”

(He tries to offer up every racist justification in the book, and in reply to each one, I say:)

Me: “And you’re an a**-hole.”

(After about 30 seconds of being reminded just what part of the human anatomy he was, he got disgusted and left. I didn’t notice it at the time, but apparently the receptionist/security guard spent the entire time trying desperately not to laugh, and nearly succeeding. I sincerely hope she went home and told her family the story over dinner — in Spanish.)

Eminem Would Have Problems
Hospital, The Netherlands, Wordplay | Healthy | November 9, 2017
(I have just moved to the Netherlands, so my Dutch is not very strong and I generally hope nobody ever asks me questions. This leads to little problems, such as when becoming member of the local hospital:)

Receptionist: “Okay, that’s all set, now I just need your postal code and we’re done.”

Me: “Uh yes, it’s ‘1234AM’.”

Receptionist: “‘N’ for Nico or ‘M’ for Minnie?”

Me: “What?”

Receptionist: “The last letter. Is it an ‘N’ for Nico, or an ‘M’ for Minnie?”

Me: *slightly panicking from questions* “Right, yeah, M for Mico. That one.”

Receptionist: “…so, M for Minnie. Got it.”

It’s A Gay Mole-Hunt
Bizarre, Doctor/Physician, Jerk, LGBTQ, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | November 9, 2017
(I have gone to the doctor about a mole I am suspicious of. I have spent close to five minutes with the doctor going over what seems different about it and showing her pictures of it before I noticed the change. I keep pictures of my moles because my mum was diagnosed earlier in life, and it has made me rather paranoid about them. The doctor has done nothing but listen, smile, and say, “Hmm…” every now and again. She stops me mid-sentence.)

Doctor: “Are you gay?”

Me: “What?”

Doctor: “Are you gay?”

Me: “Yes. Does that have something to do with my mole?”

Doctor: “No, it’s just that my family thinks my nephew might be gay, and I’m wondering if you want to help me find out.”

Me: *stunned* “No, I don’t. I want to find out whether my mole changing means I have cancer.”

Doctor: “That’s a shame. We really want to know.”

(She sits there not focusing on anything for a few seconds.)

Me: “My mole?”

Doctor: *sitting upright* “Look, will you help me or not?”

(I didn’t answer and left the room. I made a complaint before leaving and ended up signing with a new doctor. I got a letter from the old doctor apologising for her behaviour, but my mum tells me she still works there and is still trying to find out if her nephew is gay.)

Your Wisdom Is Toothless
Dentist, Massachusetts, USA | Healthy | November 9, 2017
(I am visiting an oral surgeon for the first time after getting a referral from my dentist for severe jaw pain that has been an issue for years.)

Me: “My jaw clicks when I open my mouth, and it hurts a lot if I try to keep my mouth open for a long time.”

Doctor: “Okay, let’s take some X-rays.”

(We take the X-rays and the doctor comes back to me.)

Doctor: “This issue is not something that I would recommend surgery for; it won’t fix the problem. But you do have impacted wisdom teeth.”

Me: “Okay, what would you recommend for the jaw pain? And I know the top right wisdom tooth has been causing me a lot of pain as well. I was going to get a referral for that.”

Doctor: “I won’t operate on your jaw for the jaw pain. It won’t help.”

Me: “Okay, but is there anything you can recommend that might help?”

Doctor: “I won’t do surgery unless I think it will help, and in this case it won’t help.”

(Repeat me asking for something besides surgery a few more times with the same answer.)

Doctor: “Okay, I’m going to see if we can get approval from the insurance for the wisdom teeth. You should hear back from us in a few weeks to schedule an appointment.”

(Fast forward a few weeks. I get a letter in the mail saying I have been approved to have three of my wisdom teeth removed, with no mention of the fourth (the only one that was bothering me). Never went back. Why would I trust someone to do surgery on me when they are incapable of listening to anything I said?)

That’s The Worst Tasting Peanut Butter Ever
California, Medical Office, Sacramento, USA | Healthy | November 8, 2017
(I’m working with the nephrologist at our clinic when I read an exchange between her and a lab tech in our EMR system.)

Lab Tech: “Patient was given a jug for collecting the 24-hour urine test but was unable to fit the total volume in the jug, so she put the rest in a peanut butter jar. Please re-order test as this is an unacceptable container and will have to be re-done. We will give her two jugs.”

Nephrologist: “Test re-ordered. Hopefully no more peanut butter jars this time…”

(The 24-hour urine test comes with patient instructions that say in big bold letters not to use any container but the jugs provided, and to get another jug if needed.)