Anchors Aweigh… And Aweigh, And Aweigh…
Dentist, Florida, Health & Body, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Military, Non-Dialogue, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | June 26, 2021
I was a new sailor, getting ready to report to my first ship. My wife and I had driven all the way across the country to the base where my ship was home-ported, so we were totally unfamiliar with the area. We got a hotel room while we looked for apartments, but the next day I got really sick. Two of my teeth on my upper jaw hurt so much I couldn’t sleep, so we grabbed my medical and dental records — this was a long time ago, when sailors hand-carried their records between assignments — and managed to find our way to the local Navy hospital. I checked into the dental office, and they got me in very quickly because I was obviously in a lot of pain.

The dentist, a Navy Lieutenant, poked and prodded a bit, had an x-ray taken, and then told me there was nothing wrong with my teeth. She said I probably had a raging sinus infection and had one of the nurses take me to the emergency room on the ground floor.

An hour or so later, I was diagnosed with a sinus infection, given a paper prescription, and sent to the on-site pharmacy. I grabbed a number and waited, still dazed by the constant pain in my face from the infection. My wife had to tell me when they called my number, and she escorted me to the pharmacy window. The pharmacy tech rattled off a bunch of stuff about the medicines I wasn’t coherent enough to follow, but I did make out that I needed to start taking them right away.

Fine. No problem. We sat back down and I read the labels. The largest bottle said I had to take four pills right away. I staggered to the water fountain in the lobby and swallowed one of everything, plus four of the pills from the big bottle. I walked back to where my wife was sitting, and she started putting the bottles of pills in her purse, giving each bottle a quick look to see if any needed to be refrigerated. Then, she paused and said, “Oh, f***!”

She dragged me up to the prescription drop-off window and hollered for help. An older man came to see what was wrong, and my wife showed him the large bottle and my ID card. The pharmacy tech turned white as a sheet and said, “Oh, f***!”, and then called for a gurney and a doctor.

The next couple of hours were a blur of activity I don’t remember much about, ending with me admitted overnight for observation. It seems the pharmacy tech who’d handed me my pills had also grabbed a bottle intended for another patient — the large bottle. I had taken a quadruple dose of a major blood-pressure medication and my blood pressure was dangerously low by the time the ER managed to get me hooked up to an EKG.

Even in military medicine, almost killing the patients is generally contraindicated. I recovered fine, but there was a major investigation at the hospital, and the pharmacy tech who handed me the wrong pills ended up demoted or transferred someplace unpleasant — perhaps both. The pharmacy at that hospital changed their standard operating procedures to require careful verification of the name on every label and to cross-check every prescription issued with the patient’s medical record.

That’s how the US Navy nearly got me killed before I set foot aboard my first ship.

These People Are Extra Good At Kindness
Awesome, Friends, Health & Body, Hospital, Inspirational, Kind Strangers, Non-Dialogue, USA | Healthy | June 25, 2021
About a year ago, I decided to become a non-directed kidney donor. I live alone — except a five-month-old husky puppy — with all of my family in other states a good 2,000 miles away from where I’d just moved a year prior. As the surgery date started to approach, I needed to get things in order. I tend to be both very independent and overly optimistic about what I can get done on my own. Due to their own life difficulties, none of my family would be coming out to stay with me pre- or post-surgery. The following is a brief summary of the many wonderful ways I was reminded of just how wonderful people are.

My puppy: my puppy was a rescue I had found by the side of the road at the start of the health crisis. I’d just started going to the dog park with him when the surgery got scheduled. The surgery came up in conversation, and three different strangers volunteered to come to pick him up and bring him for walks and to the dog park. Another new friend with a small baby and a puppy of their own offered, without being asked, to take him for the entire hospital stay.

Homecare: while I was recovering from surgery, at least a dozen different people stopped by to clean my home, take my dog out, bring me meals, and help me get up to exercise. Several people also heard that I was not eating because of how bad I felt and made it a point to either bring me the only things I could stomach (variations on dry breads) or sit on the phone with me and go through menus until they said something that sounded edible.

School: I am a graduate student and did not fully appreciate the impact it would have on my semester, nor how much my classmates and professors would care. Every single professor continuously checked up on me and went out of their way to accommodate me as much as possible. One even dropped off special homemade soup at my home. Several classmates were kind and patient enough to review and reteach me whole units because I was too doped up on drugs to properly understand them the first time. They gave me rides to the store, took me out walking, and just sat patiently with me while I was miserable.

Possibly the sweetest was in the hospital. The night after the surgery was the worst. The anesthesia was finally wearing off and they had to double my pain meds, but the oxygen monitor kept going off every time I started to fall asleep. Apparently, I breathe shallowly when asleep. It was so awful and it was really late at night or early in the morning and I just felt so miserable and alone. I definitely was not rational and was extremely emotional. I proceeded to start going down my friend list on my phone calling people just to see if anyone was up and could keep me company. Every person I called answered. Half of them just read Jane Austen to me until I calmed down or would just talk so I could hear a familiar voice. The last person I called stayed on with me until the doctor came back around and was able to change the meds and get me off the oxygen so I could sleep.

With the exception of the people on the phone, none of these people had known me for more than a few months, and I’d only met most of them a handful of times. I’m doing great now, as is the donee. I’m doing so well, in fact, that it is easy to forget that the experience even happened — except when I look down at my scars, and then I get the chance to remember how a group of near-strangers took care of me like I was their sister, daughter, granddaughter, and friend.

People really are remarkable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aunt: “The house.”

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

Aunt: “Mowing the lawn.”

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

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

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

Uncle: “Thank you.”

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

Uncle: “What did she say?”

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

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

Doctor: “Umm, [Uncle]?”

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

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

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

You Got Grass Growing On Your Roof?
Alberta, Canada, Funny, Home, Spouses & Partners | Romantic | June 4, 2021
We live under the flight path of a nearby small airport. Once in a while, there is an unusual engine noise and we see a vintage plane of one type or another.

On Friday, it was very cloudy. I heard a plane flying quite low. I commented on that to my husband. He just looked at me.

Husband: “That’s a lawnmower.”

Since When Are Nurses Supposed To Care About Your Health?
Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Nurses, The Netherlands | Healthy | May 29, 2021
I’m with my baby at the emergency room.

Nurse: “Would you like anything to drink?”

Me: “Yes, please. I would like a hot chocolate.”

A bit later, the nurse returns with a large cup and hands it to me.

Nurse: “Here! I brought you a fresh strawberry mango smoothie. Much better than that sewer drink.”

Me: “Oh, uh, thank you, but no, thank you. I—”

Nurse: “Nonsense! This is good for you with lots of vitamins. The doctor will be here soon. Tataaa!”

And she left the room. I’m allergic to fruit.

Quacktose Intolerant
Bizarre, Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Liars/Scammers, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | May 24, 2021
When I am a teenager, I have pain in my abdomen. After six months of running around different departments, it is established that I could be lactose intolerant.

Doctor: “I suggest you visit a dietitian to make sure everything goes okay as you cut milk out of your diet. Try [Dietitian] right here in the hospital.”

My mother and I agree. Red flags should have been apparent from the beginning.

We call to make the appointment.

Dietitian: “Do you want to be seen at the hospital or at my house? There are more options if I see you in my home.”

After verifying with our health insurance that they will accept this appointment and pay, my mother agrees to the appointment for me.

Dietitian: “Please bring along the pain meds that you have been taking and the soy milk you have replaced the regular milk with.”

On the day of the appointment, we sit down in what appears to be the dietitian’s living room. The dietitian gestures to something on the table.

Dietitian: “This is the Asyra machine which will measure your bioenergy field to establish what you can and can’t tolerate in your diet.”

I am doing my A-levels at this point with the hope of going to study veterinary medicine, and this sounds like nonsense to me, but being British and too polite to stop her, I allow her to carry on. She gets me to hold these electrodes which, apparently, is all I need to do.

My mother helpfully intervenes.

Mother: “But they are not plugged in.”

Confidence going down by the second, I do as asked and the machine starts to generate a wiggly line. As we go on, the dietitian starts going on about how, “The machine thinks this,” or, “The machine knows that,” making it seem that this machine is alive. Eyebrows continue to rise.

Her analysis says that I should be fine with milk but I should really avoid eggs and onions, which I know is complete rubbish as I have been on an exclusion diet for a couple of months and recently reintroduced eggs and onions into my diet with no issues at all.

Dietitian: “Can I test the milk and pills you brought along so I can see if they’re good for you?”

She first decides to test the soy milk, which is in a carton containing plastic which, as many primary school pupils will tell you, does not conduct electricity. She places the carton on top of a metal plate and runs the machine. She is horrified by the result.

Dietitian: “You should stop drinking this immediately; it is terrible for your system!”

Me: *Politely* “I’ve been drinking this milk for about three months and I have been feeling much better since then.”

She frowns for a second, trying to reconcile this.

Dietitian: “Well, the machine is calibrated to American soy milk, so maybe you can drink British soy milk without issues. Try to avoid it if you are in the States.”

“WTF?!” does not cover our thoughts at this point.

She moves onto my pain meds. I have two I am using and I have them in the same box for convenience. Again, the woman takes the box and plonks it on the plate.

Mother: “There are two in the box.”

She regrets saying this immediately. The dietitian sorts between the two and repeats the process. According to the machine, one is good and one won’t work for me. I do seem to be becoming slightly immune to one, so this seems correct, but she got them the wrong way around.

Now comes the sales pitch: apparently, the machine is telling her that my gut pH is too low and this needs to be rectified with probiotics. Normally, the bottle for a month would cost £200, but she is willing to give me a sample bottle for free. We accept without arguing, for simplicity.

Dietitian: “Do you have any questions?”

Me: “I’m really missing chocolate. When can I add that back into my diet?”

Dietitian: “You will have no issues with chocolate and can start eating it immediately.”

This is completely at odds with my exclusion diet. Basically, if I add more than one thing a week, I have to wait two weeks for any symptoms to clear before starting to add things again, possibly from scratch. Not going to happen.

We leave and I think there are two seconds of silence in the car before my mum and I burst out laughing.

Sometime later, we receive the report. Nowhere does it mention milk. In the meantime, I have taken a lactose tolerant test and it turns out I am about as intolerant as it is possible to be. Another highlight of the report is that radon gas — that radioactive gas that causes neighborhood evacuations when leaks are detected — is better for me than… carrots.

We turn to the hospital and complain about this woman and her quackery. However, they won’t do anything as the appointment occurred outside the hospital and they are not responsible, even though their doctor recommended her and she is an employee of the hospital. We also have a two-month battle with the insurance for them to pay her, even though they said they would before we went.

As a final note, we looked up this Asyra machine online. It turns out that in the US (and the UK), it is only licensed to measure skin resistance, and if it is used to measure anything else in the US, you can sue the doctor.

It was all a complete and utter waste of time, but it gave me a good story.

What The Oak Leaf Wants, The Oak Leaf Gets
Hospital, Impossible Demands, Military, Reddit | Healthy | CREDIT: thearticulategrunt | May 19, 2021
I am a Captain and have been assigned as chief of security for an Army hospital. I am in my office when a Lieutenant Colonel comes in.

Lieutenant Colonel: “Hey there, Captain. I need you to take care of an issue for me.”

Me: “Of course, sir. If it is within my area and power, I’ll see what I can do.”

Lieutenant Colonel: “Well, the general’s driver’s wife is in the maternity ward having just had her baby and she has a problematic roommate — always closing the curtain and blocking her line of sight to the window and messing with the tv. I need this woman moved to another room.”

Me: “Umm, that’s definitely outside my area of control, sir. I don’t oversee or control anything with patients unless it is an issue of security, safety or—”

Lieutenant Colonel: “Yes, yes, I know, but you know everyone, and the doctors and nurses will listen to you more than me. You are one of them now and they rely on you.”

Me: “Sir, really—”

Lieutenant Colonel: “I know, I know, no promises. This would really make the general happy, though. His driver is like a second son to him, so I would really owe you. It’s room number [number]. Just give it your best for a fellow infantryman, okay?”

I breathe deep and pause for a moment.

Me: “What room number again, sir?”

Lieutenant Colonel: *Smiling* “[Number].”

Me: “Roger, sir. I’ll look into it and do my best. I’ve got a couple of favors I might be able to use.”

Lieutenant Colonel: “Outstanding! Thanks.”

And he leaves. So, up I go to maternity to find the head nurse. She is not pleased as, apparently, the Lieutenant Colonel had been here earlier trying to sling his weight around and came to find me when it had no effect. I point out the room, though, and she smiles. We both chuckle a little bit.

Me: “So, can you help me out with making this all be good? Please.”

The head nurse gives me a big friendly smile.

Head Nurse: “Well, the corner room is open. We could move the bothersome lady in there, though she will likely have a new roommate later today. Then again, once the bed is clean and reset, we will likely be putting another lady in with the driver’s wife, too. Matter of fact…”

She pauses, looking over files.

Head Nurse: “It will probably be [Patient] having her fourth kid. She was likely to be going in the corner room, but with the move, she would have to go in with the driver’s wife.”

Me: “Well, if that’s how it has to be. As long as we can accommodate the Lieutenant Colonel’s request.”

Head Nurse: “Okay, but you are helping move the lady out of the room.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, of course.”

The lady who had been causing SUCH disturbances for the driver’s wife was quite calm and gave no issues with the move nor even asked any questions. I called the Lieutenant Colonel once it was done and made sure to tell him I had no concrete knowledge if or when a new roommate might be moved into the room but that the staff was really not happy with the move and extra work. He thanked me and I never heard anything of it again.

The entertaining part of the whole thing? The bothersome lady who got the room with the better view — the woman who kept closing the curtain for some privacy and turning down the loud crap the driver’s wife kept putting on the TV — was my wife, who had just had our first kid.

The World’s Strangest Parking Lot Attendant
Bad Behavior, Bizarre, Employees, Funny, Hospital, Instant Karma, Parking Lot, Reddit | Working | CREDIT: Internal_Use8954 | May 15, 2021
I’m a woman, and I was twenty-four when this happened about two years ago. I was working as a construction and design engineer for hospitals doing plumbing and air conditioning. I worked for a company that was hired by the hospital, not for the hospital itself.

My company had been hired to do an ER renovation on an old hospital, and the plans for the existing building were really old or damaged or just didn’t exist anymore. As low man on the totem pole, I got the fun job of going out to the hospital to document and investigate the existing building — lots of going up on ladders and looking above the ceiling to track down pipes and ducts and such. Because this was an ER and therefore working twenty-four hours a day, we had to time our investigation for non-busy times — namely three to seven am in the middle of the week. I was also working my normal office hours because I needed the overtime pay, so for all of these interactions, I was exhausted and just didn’t care anymore.

I had to park in the hospital parking garage, on the top floor, to be out of the way of patients and visitors. I had finished early because an emergency had come into the ER and I had to get out of the way. I had some extra time, so I decided to close my eyes for a bit before driving to the office.

I was woken up by a tapping on my window. A man was peering in the window. I waved at him, thinking he was just making sure I was all right; I was sleeping in a hospital parking lot, after all. The man gestured for me to roll down my window, so I cracked it to hear him better.

Man: *Gruffly* “Employees are to park in the back lot, or on the street if that’s full. Next time, I’ll have you towed.”

He then turned and marched back to his golf cart, which he had blocked me in with.

Me: “I don’t work here!”

He left. Then I left and went to work thinking it was a one-time deal. Little did I know…

Over the next few visits, I came back to my car to find increasingly angry “parking tickets” about parking in employee parking from now on! They were printed on standard printer paper and were very obviously homemade, with a blurry hospital logo and word art “Parking Enforcement” across the top. The notes threatened booting and towing and had demands for my supervisor’s name so I could be reported. My coworkers and I had quite a laugh over them. I even left a note on my dash saying I wasn’t an employee, and the next “ticket” had a rant about lying and a threat: “You will be written up for lying once I get your supervisor’s name!”

Then, one morning I came out to find the guy waiting for me. He had blocked my car with his golf cart and was grinning at me like a cat who got the cream.

Man: “Employees have to park in the back lot! You are in so much trouble. I demand to speak to your manager! Give me their name and number and the department you work for! I won’t let you leave until you give me your manager’s name!”

He did have my car blocked in. I tried to explain that I wasn’t an employee. I pointed out my outfit — work boots, jeans, safety glasses, and a toolbelt with flashlights, tape measures, lasers, and a clipboard with my drawn plans — and told him that this is where hospital admin had told us to park. But he insisted that my disguise wasn’t going to trick him and demanded to speak to my manager. I was so exhausted and wasn’t really up to arguing, so I just pulled out my business card and my boss’s card and handed them over. I had told my boss about this, and he just told me to ignore it, as he had confirmed with the hospital that that was where I was supposed to park.

This dude pulled out his phone and called my boss and reported me. My boss — an older gentleman, president of the company — told the guy that he had to let me leave or he was calling the police. When the dude hung up, he told me:

Man: “I’m letting you leave this time, but next time you park here, I’ll boot your car and find your real manager’s number and report you! Some trick with your friend won’t work!”

He got in his golf cart and zoomed away. Luckily, my boss found this whole thing hilarious.

It was about a week before I went back and I was almost done with my task. I had finished for the day once again and headed out to my car to find that the man had — sort of — done what he had threatened.

There was a thick chain looped through the handle of my driver’s side rear door and around a cinderblock, all tied together with a large padlock. I knew this guy was a bit nutty, but I also had figured out that he didn’t have any real authority, so to find this half-clever, half-poorly-thought-out ball and chain attached to my car was a bit of a surprise.

I got into engineering because I like solving problems and this wasn’t a particularly complex problem. I simply rolled my back window down, lifted the cinderblock and excess chain into my car, and then drove away. I passed the man on my way out. To say he was shocked was an understatement, and I gave him a jaunty wave as I drove by. It was a cold drive back to my office with the window open, but it was worth the look on his face.

When I got to the office, I had to go in and sign out the bolt cutters, and I was followed out by a parade of my coworkers to see it for themselves.

I had to go back one more time. I was eager to see what the man might do after his last plan failed. I came out to find that he had tried the chain and cinderblock bit again. This time, he had wrapped the chain around the bottom of the wheel a few times and had the cinderblock tied pretty close to the wheel and the chain through the handle again. It was definitely chained in a way that would take a lot more ingenuity to get out of… or a pair of bolt cutters that I hadn’t returned to the office — you know, just in case.

I cut through the chain, unchained the car, and then loaded the whole lot into my trunk. The man must have been harassing some other person, because he only pulled up as I was backing out of the spot. He blocked my car — again! — with his cart and jumped out. He came to my window and I did roll it down just to see what he had to say.

Man: “Hey, hey! Where are the chains?! How did you get loose?! This is stealing! I will have your job for this!”

I never did hear the rest of the rant, as I yelled during a pause for breath:

Me: “Magic, and I’m not an employee!”

And I drove around his cart and away. It was the most dramatic exit of my life and will probably never be topped.

It was my last day there for now, and I’ve since gotten a new car, so I’m not sure if I’ll run into that man again. I’d like to think he is still puzzled over how I managed to unchain my car. My boss did lodge a complaint, but I don’t think anything came of it.

Childish Mistakes
Germany, Hospital, Jerk, Nurses | Healthy | April 11, 2021
A few weeks ago, I had to have a hysterectomy. I have no children, never wanted children, and am almost too old to have them. Also, if I can now live my life free of period pains, I’m all for it. But I know that it is a sensitive issue for many women.

While wheeling me along to the operation, the male nurse asks:

Nurse #1 : “Do you have kids?”

Me: “No.”

Nurse #1 : “Me, neither. It is really sad. A life without children isn’t really worthwhile.”

Dude, don’t tell this to a woman about to have her womb taken out.

Later, when they take me for a scan, a nurse says:

Nurse #2 : “So, you’ve just given birth, right?”

Me: “No. No, I haven’t.”

When I talked to my gynecologist, she was flabbergasted. And rightly so. I mean, it wasn’t a big deal for me. But really, maybe be more sensitive next time.

A Sade Pleet With A Side Of Haggis
Australia, Cafeteria, Funny, Hospital, Melbourne, Victoria, Wordplay | Working | April 6, 2021
I’m from England. This was one of a string of temporary jobs I had while travelling a few years back. I’m selling people pies, sandwiches, and tea as normal when a lady in a nurse’s uniform asks me a question.

Nurse: “Can I have a sade pleet, please?”

Me: “A what?”

Nurse: “A sade pleet.”

I’m completely confused.

Me: “I beg your pardon?

Nurse: “A sade pleet!”

Me: “Er…”

I gesture at the array of food, drinks, and other assorted cafeteria-related items on the counter between us.

Me: “Ma’am, if you can see one on here, please grab one!”

The nurse picks up a small plate from a pile in front of me and shakes it.

Nurse: “A sade pleet! A SADE PLEET!”

It’s at this point that I finally twig that I’m listening to someone with a distinct Scottish accent, which I haven’t heard in some months and wasn’t expecting to hear at all while working in a hospital cafeteria in Australia. She’s asking if she can have a side plate. I laugh with some relief.

Me: “Beg pardon, ma’am, I wasn’t at all expecting to hear a Scottish accent here! Yes, of course, please take a plate, and sorry about that!”

Thankfully, she took it in good grace, headed off with her sade pleet, and, I hope, thoroughly enjoyed her break.

Routine Ultra-Stupidity
Billing, Hospital, Stupid, USA | Healthy | April 5, 2021
I am pregnant, and I’m sent for a routine ultrasound. I’m considered a low-risk, routine maternity case. The place where I’ve gone for ultrasounds in previous pregnancies is completely booked up, so when I go to schedule, they say they’ll just schedule me with the other ultrasound office in the building.

After I get the ultrasound, the bill arrives, and it is orders of magnitude higher than what it has been in the past… approximately nine times higher. My insurance company refuses to pay that amount of money, and it gets kicked back to me.

I call the insurance company and ask why they didn’t cover the ultrasound and am told that the ultrasound was billed as an ultrasound for a high-risk pregnancy but I am not a high-risk patient. So, I call the ultrasound office.

Me: “I’m trying to figure out a solution here. It seems that the ultrasound was billed as for a high-risk pregnancy, but I’m not a high-risk patient, so insurance rejected it.”

Clinic: “Oh, but that’s because we’re the high-risk office, so your doctor wanted a high-risk scan.”

Me: “I was sent to you because the other office was booked. They told me that you were covering their overflow because you had space.”

Clinic: “Yes, we agreed to alleviate some of their scheduling issues.”

Me: “So, you knew I wasn’t high-risk. Why did you do the high-risk scan?”

Clinic: “Oh, we didn’t do the high-risk scan because you aren’t a high-risk patient.”

Me: “So, why did you bill me for a high-risk scan?”

Clinic: “Because we’re specialists. We specialize in high-risk perinatal care.”

Me: “But you were just covering for the other office, right?”

Clinic: “Yes. But you can’t expect us to not be paid what we’re worth, can you?”

Me: “But you didn’t do the high-risk scan, right?”

Clinic: “No, but if we’d seen anything high-risk, we would have been able to tell you because we’re highly-trained. You have to pay for our higher training.”

Me: “So, if a surgeon who is capable of a kidney transplant gives you stitches, you should have to pay for a kidney transplant?”

Clinic: “You got a higher level of care here, so you have to pay for that higher level of care.”

Me: “I’m just lost for words here.”

The True Cost Of Healthcare
Hospital, Stupid, USA, West Virginia | Right | March 23, 2021
I work at the main desk at a VERY large hospital. I have a couple walk up to my desk.

Woman: “Hello, we need to find a patient’s room number.”

Me: “Not a problem! What’s the last name?”

I grab two visitor passes and a sharpie.

Woman: “[Patient].”

I quickly look up the room number and turn to write it on the visitor passes.

Me: “Okay, 431.”

I glance up to see that the couple’s eyes have gone wide and they are looking at me as if I have lost my mind.

Woman: “You… have to pay to visit someone?!”

Me: “Uh, no… it is room 431.”

I motion to the visitor passes I have already written the room number on.

Woman: “Oh! Good! I don’t have no money!”

Chaos, Panic, Relief
Funny, Hospital, New Zealand, Non-Dialogue, Nurses, Students | Healthy | March 20, 2021
I’m a student nurse out for a three-week practicum on a high-acuity hospital ward. Through sheer bad luck, during the first week us students are there, there are a lot of medical emergencies: cardiac arrests, patients found unconscious, comas, and vital sign measurements dangerously out of normal range. On one particular day, the emergency alarm goes off four different times, sending the whole staff running to help and sometimes taking hours to resolve with a whole team present.

Come 2:00 pm, we’re all frazzled and exhausted. Just as we sit down to write the notes for the shift of chaos, from behind the nurses’ station we hear a desperate cry: “Oh, my God, help me! Somebody help! [Nurse], help me!”

Once again, we all go running. A couple of the staff get there before me, and as they arrive on the scene I hear a crowd start laughing, as if someone has fallen for a prank, and the staff who ran to help look relieved and then disperse. I vaguely recall a passing comment I overheard at 7:00 this morning: there was going to be a CPR training happening that day that we had forgotten about because we knew we’d be too busy.

Mystery solved! All was well, everyone was safe! They’re just running a scenario!

Except the CPR training is being run by and for experienced hospital clinicians, and they are all extremely familiar with what a realistic medical emergency sounds like and aren’t afraid to show it.

They somehow manage to last for ten minutes with loud, dramatic, distressed hyperventilating, with the occasional, “Help me!” and, “Oh, no, she’s unconscious! What are you going to do?!” and, “Get help!”

All the while, the rest of us are huddled down in the nursing station trying to write our notes and failing to tune out the sound of very realistic respiratory distress happening a few meters away.

For some reason, we don’t find that particularly calming after our adrenaline-filled day.

Hopefully The OBGYN Forgives You
Call Center, Hospital, Impossible Demands, Jerk, New York, USA | Right | March 11, 2021
I work in a small hospital as a switchboard operator. My office deals with all incoming, outgoing, and internal calls, we act as the answering service for all the doctors associated with the hospital, and we track and call all codes and alarms.

Me: “[Hospital], this is [Ny Name]; how may I help you?”

Caller: “I need to talk to my doctor.”

Me: “What is the name of your doctor?”

Caller: “I don’t know; you need to look it up!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t have that ability. There is no database listing the patients of each doctor associated with us.”

I try to help him remember.

Me: “Where is the office located?”

Caller: “Upstairs.”

I literally look up, thinking, “That’s radiology.”

Me: “Upstairs of what building? There are multiple buildings on our campus.”

Caller: *Getting belligerent* “Of the hospital. What are you, stupid?”

Me: “Sir, there are no doctors’ offices in the main hospital building. Do you know which office building it is located in?”

Caller: “Why can’t you just look it up and tell me who my doctor is? Stop being a b**** and just tell me who my doctor is.”

It is standard policy at this hospital that if a caller becomes rude or swears at us on the phone, we are allowed to hang up on them.

Instead of hanging up, I transferred him to an office I KNEW was not the one he wanted: the OBGYN.

She’d Be Swelling With Pride
Australia, Children, Current Events, Hospital, Victoria | Healthy | March 9, 2021
I’m at the hospital.

Little Boy: “Why aren’t you wearing a mask?”

Me: “Oh, hi, kid. The masks don’t fit me right now. Can you go back to your mum? I can’t talk well right now.”

Little Boy: “Mummy says that everyone has to wear a mask.”

Me: “Normally she’d be right, but the doctor has given me special permission just this once.”

Little Boy: “But Mummy says that people who don’t wear masks are selfish b*****ds.”

Me: “Go back to your mummy and I’m sure she’ll explain it. I can’t fit into the masks right now.”

Little Boy: “Why not?”

Me: “Because my face is all swollen up, see?”

Little Boy: “Isn’t that what you normally look like?”

Me: “No?”

Little Boy: “Oh, all right, then.”

In the mother’s defence, the woman he wandered back to was trying to comfort a little girl with a lot of blood on her face. I think she was a bit preoccupied to realise what had happened.

Kindness Is Stronger Than A Bike Lock
England, Hospital, Inspirational, Kind Strangers, Non-Dialogue, UK | Friendly | March 5, 2021
After leaving work one night after a run of three exhausting shifts in a hospital, I find that my brand-new mountain bike has had the lock cut through and been stolen. Understandably, I am furious.

I report it as stolen, put in an insurance claim, and wait, other than posting on various social media pages on the off chance anyone saw anything. Obviously, this reaches more than my immediate friends on social media; a few days later, I get a message from a complete stranger saying he has a bike he wants to give me after hearing what has happened!

Faith in humanity restored!

You’ll Knock That Migraine Out Real Good
Doctor/Physician, Hospital, USA | Healthy | March 5, 2021
I get migraines that can take me out for days. Before the headache sets in, I lose sensation in the left side of my body, followed by nausea and vomiting, and then tunnel vision. It is impossible for me to work when it gets to this point, so I try to take care of it as soon as the first symptoms start.

I get to work early to set up and start losing sensation in my neck and shoulder on the left. I immediately take all the meds my doctor tells me to, hoping it’s not too late. I ask the front desk to cancel my first client so I can go to the urgent care next door and see if they can do anything.

I turn off a few lights in the exam room to ease the pain and try to focus on the poster in front of me. It is a PSA on “How to prescribe opioids properly.” I grew up in a place where opioid addiction is an epidemic and have lost many friends to overdoses.

The doctor finally comes in and switches on all the lights.

Doctor: “I’m going to give you something for the nausea and twenty-two Percocet.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Twenty-two Percocet for a migraine? He sees my look.

Doctor: “Okay, twenty-four, then, and here’s a note for work.”

I was too upset and flabbergasted to say much more but I took the scripts and left. I went back to work and explained what had happened and that I needed to go home. One of my coworkers offered to sell my script!

I lost it on them and took an Uber home and just slept it off. I just couldn’t believe the doctor’s reaction or my coworker’s lack of awareness.

This’ll Make You Clench Your Teeth
Belgium, Hospital, Patients, Revolting | Healthy | March 4, 2021
I work as a secretary in the Medical Imaging department at a local hospital. We offer appointments for MRIs. When a patient checks in, we ask them to fill out a questionnaire. This is to check if they have materials inside their body that can be dangerous because of the electromagnetic waves of the MRI.

Sometimes people can’t fill in the questionnaire. Some forget their good glasses, some can’t read or write, some don’t speak the language. Whatever the reason, we offer to read the questions to them and fill it in.

A patient comes up to me and says he can’t fill the questionnaire in on his own. I go over the questions with him. One of the questions is about dentures and whether they are magnetic.

Me: “Do you have dentures, sir?”

Patient: “Yes.”

Me: “Are they magnetic?”

Patient: “No, they are fastened with hooks. Here, look!”

The patient proceeds to pull down his mask and pull out his dentures, and he tries to shove them in my face!

Me: “That’s all right, sir. I believe you.”

I have never been happier that we had plastic shields installed at our desks

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 11
Bigotry, Hospital, Instant Karma, USA | Right | March 3, 2021
I work at a major hospital known for its trauma services and recovery care. I am a rather small female and currently the only female working as a repair technician. Our duties are to repair all of the hospital’s equipment from pumps to call systems and even the beds.

I have been out for a week on vacation. On my first day back, I get a call from our ICU recovery unit about a non-functioning bed. The nurse tells me that this is the third time someone has come out to look at this bed and they couldn’t find anything wrong.

I push a replacement bed up to the room — just in case they need to swap the patient out — and decide to take one last look before going that far. In the room is an elderly couple in which the husband is recovering from a stroke. Sitting next to the bed is his wife.

Husband: “They sent us a girl this time? If the two guys that were here before couldn’t find the problem, how is she going to?”

Wife: “Just let her look and be quiet.”

Me: “Just humor me and let me look at a few things. It shouldn’t be more than a minute.”

Husband: “You’re not going to find anything.”

I bend down and take a look at the battery. The battery indicator is showing that the battery is completely dead. I look behind the bed and realize that the bed isn’t plugged in, so the entire time, the bed has been running on battery power and not recharging. I plug it back in and suddenly the bed starts working. Where the wife was sitting, she could see everything I did to “fix” the broken bed.

Husband: “How did you do that? The men couldn’t figure it out. I don’t believe you were able to fix it that fast when the men couldn’t.”

Wife: “Maybe they should have sent the girl out the first time and they would have learned you need to plug things in to get them to work.”

Husband: “…”

They ended up being a super nice couple in the end and I visited them every day until the husband was released. They even sent my boss a glowing review and told them to hire more girls to actually fix things.

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 10
Bigotry, Call Center, Jerk, USA | Right | January 14, 2021
I work for a store that sells purely electronics and I’m female.

Customer: “I need to speak to someone in electronics who’s not you.”

I roll my eyes but continue.

Me: “Sure, what is your question?”

Customer: “No I need someone in electronics!”

Me: “Yes, sir. I just need to know your question so I can get you to the right department in the store.”

Customer: “I need electronics! Get me someone who knows what they’re doing. Unlike you.”

I’m done and I drop the Customer Service voice.

Me: “We are an electronics store. It’s all we sell. Without knowing what you need, I can’t help you or get someone to help you. What do you need?”

He sputtered and then hung up.

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 9
Bigotry, Glasgow, Instant Karma, Retail, Scotland, UK | Right | December 6, 2020
I work in a car and bike part store. I am female and all my coworkers are male. The manager and I are standing at the back of the store.

Customer: *To me* “Can you please tell me where the car bulbs are?”

Me: “Of course, sir. They’re just over there.”

Customer: “Thanks.”

He brings out a small tool and turns to show it to my manager.

Customer: “Mate, could you tell me what sort of fitting I would need for this part?”

My manager knows the answer but is unable to believe how blatant the guy is.

Manager: “Sorry, no idea. You’ll need to ask my colleague.” *Points at me*

This sort of thing happened all the time. Special shout-out to all my guy teammates who would always plead ignorance and send sexist customers back to me!

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 8
Bigotry, Hotel, Jerk, UK | Right | November 9, 2020
We are a small city-centre boutique hotel — nothing fancy, just a cute room. We do have a lot of reviews about our customer service.

I’m checking a guest in who only has a backpack for a week’s stay. About halfway through the check in, I spot two large suitcases on the CCTV outside the front door. This is a city centre and not a nice one, so I get a bit worried.

Me: “Sir, are those your bags outside?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Sir, you need to go and get them before someone else grabs them.”

Customer: “Your bellboy will grab them.”

Me: “Sir, it is only me tonight; we do not have a bellboy.”

Customer: “They are heavy; you need to tell him to lift with his knees.”

I realise he’s not listening so I check him in and run outside to grab the bags. Heavy is an understatement, but in my dress and heels, I lug it all the way to the elevator — which is awkwardly round the back of the building — and to his room. I knock two separate times before he answers.

Me: “Hi there. I’ve brought your bags for you!”

Customer: “You’re a girl.”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

He’s made no move for the bags so I take them into his room.

Customer: “You weren’t meant to get the bags.”

Me: “Sir, I explained I was the only one on duty tonight. I thought that meant you were okay with me grabbing them?”

Customer: “Women shouldn’t lift heavy bags. Especially my bags. In heels.”

Me: “Well, sir, they’re here now, as long as you’re happy—”

He shut the door in my face. Turned out he was from a country where women don’t do hard labour or work in jobs where interacting with men or touching their things. Luckily, I wasn’t on in the morning as he called down to reception and requested a man grab his bags. It was my female colleague on her own, and again, he screamed like a toddler when he saw her moving them.

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 7
Bigotry, Canada, Electronics Store, Ontario | Right | October 5, 2020
Customer: “Do you have any guys working who can help me with a computer?”

Me: “No, but I have a girl working who can help you with a computer.”

Customer: “No guys, eh?”

Me: “Nope, there are only three of us working tonight, and we’re all girls. [Sales Associate] is the sales associate tonight, so I’ll get her for you.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah, I saw her already; she doesn’t know anything.”

Me: *Confused* “She doesn’t?”

Customer: “Well, I don’t know. I didn’t actually talk to her.”

Me: *Screaming internally* “I’ll get her for you.”

The sales associate comes up.

Customer: “You don’t know anything about Macs, do you?”

Sales Associate: “Of course, I do!”

Customer: “…Oh.”

The girl answered his question and got him the item he needed to solve his problem.

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 6
Auto Shop, Bigotry, Impossible Demands, Norway | Right | August 17, 2020
I’m a female tire fitter, which is a profession highly dominated by male workers. I get a lot of comments about being a female, mostly good, but then you have the a**holes. The receptionist tells me to open up the garage for a customer; I start to guide the elderly gentleman in. When he stops the car, I open the door for him.

Me: “Hello, sir, will you please put the gear in neutral and the emergency brake off for me?”

Customer: “No!”

Me: “…”

Customer: “You don’t even know what you are doing! Don’t touch my car!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand. Are you not here for new tires?”

Customer: “Yes, but you don’t touch it! Why the f*** are you here?! Women have no business being in a garage! Their brains are the same size as a chicken’s brain!”

Me: “…”

I don’t know what to do with myself; I have never experienced anything like this before. The only people here are me and a male rookie, and it’s his first day in the garage. The customer points at my trainee.

Customer: “He is going to change my tires!”

Me: “Sir, this is his second day; he has never changed tires on his own before.”

Customer: “I want him! You will not touch anything!”

The customer had already paid for his new tires, and this was the first time I had encountered anything like this. Not knowing what else to do, I guided my terrified rookie in how to do everything, under the scrutinizing stare of the customer who yelled every time it looks like I was about to touch anything.

Later, when the boss came back to work, we told him what happened. He got so angry, he told me that if he had been there he would have kicked that guy out so quickly his head would have spun around!

Thankfully, I’ve never encountered anyone as bad as him again, but I do have more stories, for sure!

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 5
Bigotry, Kansas, Tech Support, USA | Right | July 15, 2020
I am currently the only female technician at our small call center.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company] help desk. May I get your phone number, please?”

The caller is also female.

User: “Yes, I need to talk to tech support.”

Me: “You’ve reached us! Can I get your phone number?”

User: “You are a technician?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. What is your phone number, so I can get your account pulled and we can get started?”

User: “But you are a woman!”

Me: “Uh… yes. I am also a technician.”

User: “I thought you were just the secretary!”

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 4
Bigotry, Canada, Government Office | Right | January 15, 2020
(I work for a central answering point for a municipality. We answer for almost every department in the city. I am female and sit beside a male; we both have the exact same job description, but he is about twenty years older than I am. I wish I could say this doesn’t happen very often but sadly it does, even with female callers.)

Me: *answers phone with standard greeting*

Caller: “I need to talk to an engineer!”

(This usually means they want to talk to a man.)

Me: “Okay, what is it regarding?”

Caller: *sighs and asks a standard question we are trained to answer*

Me: *gives proper response*

Caller: “No, that can’t be right! Let me talk to an engineer!”

Me: “Okay, please hold.” *transfers to my male coworker less than three feet away*

Coworker: *listens and gives the exact same answer as I did*

Caller: “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

Coworker & Me: *rolling our eyes*

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 3
Auto Shop, Bigotry, Colorado, Denver, Instant Karma, Stupid, USA | Right | January 1, 2020
(I am a parts saleswoman at a large auto parts store. Often, I get flak from customers — mostly older men — who assume that because I have boobs and am in my 20s, I know nothing about cars, particularly vintage vehicles. I’m a vintage American muscle enthusiast, so I have extensive knowledge in the area. A customer walks in one evening, sees me, and immediately demands that he wants to talk to “one of the guys.” I inform him that my coworker is changing a battery in the parking lot and may be a while, but I would be more than happy to assist him.)

Customer: “Fine, but you can’t help me. 1967 Mustang.”

Me: “Okay, what is the engine size?”

Customer: “It’s a 350.”

Me: “Oh, it’s got a Chevy motor?”

Customer: “No, it’s a Ford engine.”

Me: “So, it’s the 351?”

Customer: *angrily* “No. It’s a d*** Ford, so it’s got a d*** Ford 350 engine! Look it up!”

Me: “Sir, there’s no such thing as a Ford 350. Ford has a 351, so unless you swapped it for a Chevy 350, that’s what your Mustang has. Common misconception.”

Customer: “You don’t think I know what engine my Mustang has in it? It’s a d*** 350, so find me parts for a 350!”

(I ended up selling him the parts for a Chevy 350 since he wouldn’t shut up. Lo and behold, two days later he showed back up during my shift and rather sheepishly admitted that he was mistaken and his Mustang did, in fact, have a 351. I sold him the correct parts and never saw him or his Mustang ever again.)

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 2
Bigotry, Home Improvement, Jerk, USA | Right | October 10, 2019
(I am female and I work at a major home improvement store in the paint department. My manager is mixing paint for a male guest as a lady approaches the desk.)

Customer: *carrying two adhesives* “So, I need an adhesive that will work for [project].” *holds out items to me while looking at male guest* “Are these what I want?”

Me: “Yes, that will work perfectly for [project].”

Customer: *doesn’t respond but continues to stare at male guest*

Male Guest: *looks at me then back at the lady, then nods his head uncomfortably in agreement with me*

Customer: *returns attention to me* “Thanks, I guess.” *walks away*

Manager: “Did she really just ask the male guest whether or not [adhesive] will work instead of asking you?”

Me: “Yep! Welcome to being a young female in home improvement!”

The Only Reaction We’re Having Is Annoyance
Health & Body, Patients, Stupid, Tennessee, USA, Vet | Healthy | November 9, 2018
(I work for a 24-hour emergency vet. It’s about one am; I usually get strange calls at this time of night.)

Client: “Hi. I was putting some flea medication on my dog and I think I’m having a reaction to it.”

Me: *thinking I misheard her* “Oh, he’s having a reaction to it?”

Client: “No, I am! My hands are breaking out, and I think my throat is getting tight.”

Me: “Oh! I’m sorry; you’ve called an animal emergency hospital!”

Client: “I know. You guys know what I need to take to fix it right?”

Me: “No, ma’am, you need to call 911 or go to your local emergency room; we only treat pets here.”

Client: “Well, that’s okay. If you guys treat pets, you know what I can take, right? I really wasn’t planning on going anywhere tonight; just tell me what medication you give to pets and I’ll just take a larger dose of it.”

Me: “Ma’am… I’m sorry, but we can’t give medication advice over the phone for pets, and we definitely can’t for people! You need to call 911 or go to the emergency room!”

Client: “You’re just being no help. Do you have a number I can call a different animal hospital? I don’t have Internet, so I can’t look up anything.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t give you another number for an animal hospital that’s open right now, but I would gladly give you directions to the emergency room closest to you! You definitely need to go to a hospital for people if you’re having a reaction, not animal hospitals.”

Client: “Fine, y’all are just no help! You know, you really should give better advice to people when they call; you are a hospital, you know! I guess I’ll just have to go to the hospital down the road and see if they can help me. I’m never calling you again!” *click*

(I was so mind-blown I had to sit and collect myself for a few minutes. She sounded like a normal, middle-aged woman, so I hope it was a prank call, but unfortunately I don’t think it was.)

Depression And Anxiety Are Not The Best Diets
England, Jerk, Medical Office, Nurses, UK | Healthy | November 8, 2018
(My doctor’s surgery does an annual check-up with the practice nurse for all patients with long-term conditions. I go to mine.)

Nurse: “You’ve lost 13 kg since we last saw you!”

Me: *sarcastically* “Yeah, depression and anxiety is an amazing diet.”

Nurse: “Your weight and BMI are well within the guidelines now.”

Me: “Oh, um, great.”

Nurse: “Do you want me to refer you to [Famous Weight Loss Club]?”

Me: “…”

Nurse: “We have to ask everybody.”

Me: “…”

Nurse: “We do have to ask everybody.”

Me: “…”

Nurse: “I’ll take that as a no, shall I?”

Me: “…”

Nurse: “Anyway, let’s check something else, shall we?”

Me: “Yes… let’s.”

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

Doctor: “What formula does he have?”

Me: “He is breastfed.”

Doctor: “What milk does he have?”

Me: “Breast milk.”

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

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

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

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

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

Me: “HE… IS… EXCLUSIVELY… BREASTFED!”

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

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

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

Me: *grinning* “Pun intended?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll Stress-Knit A Whole Outfit At This Point
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Massachusetts, Medical Office, Psychiatrist, USA | Healthy | August 1, 2018
(I’m waiting to see my psychiatrist for a medication check-up. This office schedules meds appointments in fifteen-minute blocks; they’re a quick in-and-out to make sure the meds are working before the prescription is refilled. I arrive five minutes before my appointment and am told I’m seeing a new doctor. I’m a little annoyed that they didn’t tell me this when the appointment was being set up — my father works in the mental health field and I’m uncomfortable being seen by his coworkers — but whatever; maybe my regular doctor is out sick. So, I go to the waiting room. And wait. And wait. At twenty minutes past my appointment time — so, five minutes after it is supposed to be over — I hear the receptionists chatting. They say something about the new doctor having computer problems. Okay, stuff happens. Forty minutes past my appointment time, the person who is waiting before me gets into a shouting match with the receptionists about how late things are running. I’m frustrated too, but an extra person yelling won’t change anything, and I have plenty of time, so I keep waiting. Finally, fifty minutes after my scheduled time, a harried-looking man calls my name and introduces himself as the doctor. I’m expecting him to apologize for the delay, or offer an explanation, or anything. Nope. He doesn’t say a word until we get to his office. Now my appointment starts in earnest.)

Doctor: “So, do think you’re depressed?”

Me: *pause* “This appointment is literally to treat my diagnosed depression, so, um, yeah.”

(He doesn’t respond at all to this. He doesn’t even look at me. He has a walking desk, so he’s power-walking in place while he types on his computer. And he keeps typing. For almost ten minutes. I almost stand up and walk out. But I’ve already been here forever, I don’t want to have to do this all again, and I need my meds refilled. So, I take out my knitting and work on that for a bit.)

Doctor: “Do you want to keep taking [Medication #1 ] and [Medication #2]?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

(He types for a few more minutes.)

Doctor: “I’ve sent in the prescriptions for those. I’ll see you again in five months.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(I get up to leave.)

Doctor: “Wow! You’re so fast at knitting! What are you making?”

Me: “A sweater. Bye.”

(I was at that office for over an hour, but in the appointment for less than fifteen minutes. He said almost nothing to me, and half of what he did say was about knitting. And when I went to the pharmacy, only one of the prescriptions had actually been sent over!)

No Spoonful Of Sugar Is Helping This Medicine Go Down
Bad Behavior, Florida, Jerk, Patients, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | July 31, 2018
(When you come to pick up a prescription, I have to make sure it’s going to the right person or I get written up and, if I get written up enough times, lose my job. This particular pharmacy asks that we verify the address on file, but if they don’t know it, I’ll usually take some other manner of verification if necessary. It’s late, and there’s an hour and a half left to go of a seven-hour day, and all I want to do is go home, so I admit I’m a bit tired. A guy comes up who couldn’t be more than 22, I’d guess, and I smile and go to the register, asking him who he’s picking up for.)

Guy: “My girlfriend.”

Me: “Okay. What’s her name?”

Guy: “[First Name].”

(I need a last name in particular to search, and unfortunately most of the younger crowd usually never give their last name unless prompted. I have no idea why.)

Me: “What’s her last name?”

Guy: “[Last Name].”

(I go over to get it, which doesn’t take long, and return.)

Me: “And what’s her address, please?”

(He gives me this look like I’ve told him that the sky is green or that he’s standing on his head.)

Guy: “I’ve picked up before and they’ve never, ever asked me for her address before.”

(Then he clearly hasn’t picked up for her before at this pharmacy, because we always ask for the address. I say it so often that even when I’m doing things that don’t require it, I sometimes end up saying the words. Sometimes I end up asking them their address before I ask their name, before I can stop myself.)

Me: “Um… We always ask for the address.”

Guy: “No one has ever asked me before!”

Me: “Well, sometimes if you don’t know it, we’ll try another way to verify. Do you know it?”

Guy: “No!”

Me: “Okay, what’s her date of birth?”

(That, he knows. He tells that to me and I’m assured that I have the right person. A new law was passed in July that on certain types and classes of medicines, I now have to ask for a form of ID and enter it into the computer. What he’s picking up falls into that class.)

Me: “I need to see your ID, please.”

Guy: “Why?”

Me: “It’s the law as of the first of July. I have to have an ID.”

Guy: “Does that mean I have to get hers from the car?”

Me: “No, I need yours, since you’re picking it up.”

Guy: “But… does that mean I have to get hers?”

Me: “Um… No. I need yours.”

Guy: “I don’t have mine.”

Me: “Then she has to come in and pick it up.”

Guy: “Why can’t I just go get hers and give it to you?”

(Now I can understand his hesitancy. There’s a big storm that has been going on all day, but neither weather nor annoying teenagers are going to make me break the law.)

Me: “Because it’s her license. Whatever license I have has to be for the person picking up. It’s the law.”

(We go back and forth about this for another minute, to the point that my pharmacist has to come over and back me up, telling him that we have to follow all rules and regulations, and if it’s her license, it has be her. He finally goes out to get her and comes back in. I think this is a wonderful opportunity to do my job right now that she’s here.)

Me: “What’s your address?”

Girl: *throws her ID on the counter* “On file.”

Me: *blink*

(I’ve never had a customer refuse to give their address. Sometimes they’ll pretend to give me a hard time or forget some of the numbers, but I’ve never had someone give me a smart a** remark about it being “on file,” because most have the intelligence to realize that there’s a reason I’m asking for it and it’s most certainly not to hear myself talk. I want to keep my job.)

Me: “I’m sorry; we ask that for verification. If you don’t know yo—”

Girl: *interrupts snottily* “I know my address. It’s [address].”

(She picked up her license from the counter and proceeded to throw it again. I decided I’d had enough of dealing with the twat that was clearly just too lazy to come in and sent her boyfriend in for her, since I could see no legitimate reason for her not to come in besides the rain. And part of me wanted a little bit of revenge for these people half my age giving me a hard time, so I took my time, every bit of it that I could, prolonging the transaction just because they were antsy. As they left, she shot me a glare, snatched up her prescription, and then went to the industrial scale nearby that people use to measure weight and proceeded to jump up and down on it once or twice before leaving.)

Suffering Bad Pet Owners
Bad Behavior, Maryland, Pets & Animals, USA, Vet | Healthy | July 30, 2018
(I work the front desk in a highly recommended vet hospital that has both appointments with doctors and a walk-in emergency service. Emergency visits are always a trip. A young man walks in, carrying his dachshund mix. He tells me that his dog is having respiratory distress, so I take her back to see the doctor first before getting his information. It turns out that the dog has been having breathing troubles for two days. The doctor is not impressed with that info and, with client approval, takes some x-rays to see what might be going on internally. It’s cancer, a lot of cancer in all of the places. The dog is not comfortable outside of oxygen, so the vet goes to talk to the owner to explain that euthanasia is the only humane option. By this point, the owner’s father has come to join him and has brought his own dog. He is handling the dog very roughly and occasionally whacks the dog lightly with the end of the leash when he thinks the dog is misbehaving.)

Father: “Vets just want to take your money! Don’t worry, [Dog], they’re not going to see you. This is where dogs come to die.”

(He is making other clients uncomfortable, so I warn the ER doctor as she goes in to speak with them. The client is understandably shocked and upset, but the father is whole other matter.)

Father: “We’re not ready to put her down yet. Can you give us meds to keep her comfortable for another week?”

Vet: “Sir, she isn’t comfortable at all outside of oxygen. It would be against medical advice to take her out of oxygen and take her home.”

Father: “I’ll take her out of oxygen if I want to! It’s not like she’s suffering!”

(The vet was literally so angry she had to leave the room because yes, this dog was suffering! The father continued to be resistant, but the client agreed that it was in her best interest to euthanize her immediately, and handled the rest of the visit like a rational adult.)

After Hours Is After You
Impossible Demands, Medical Office, Patients, Texas, USA | Healthy | July 29, 2018
(I work for a company that takes hospital calls and after-hours calls for doctor’s offices. The majority of our doctors DO NOT take certain type calls after office hours, and only specific doctors can be called. Some patients refuse to acknowledge that and only make themselves look the bigger fool. It is late on a Friday.)

Me: “Hello! You’ve reached [Service]; how can I help you this evening?”

Caller: “I need [Doctor] paged.”

Me: “All right, ma’am, [Doctor] is not on call; however, the on-call doctor will be taking the page.”

Caller: “No. I don’t want the on-call doctor; I want [Doctor].”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I am unable to do that. It’s against policy to page doctors not on call.”

Caller: “I don’t care; I want [Doctor] paged now.”

Me: “All righty, ma’am, I’ll need this information.”

(I list off information needed and the caller interrupts.)

Caller: “Why do you need that information? You’re the doctor’s office; you should be able to look at the computer.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not the doctor’s office. I’m [Service]; I handle after-hours calls at a separate location.”

Caller: *huffily gives half the info needed*

Me: “I also need the reason you need to page the after-hours doctor.”

Caller: “I need my birth-control refilled. I ran out today and I need more.”

Me: *trying not to let the aggravation seep into my tone* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m unable to page the doctor for this reason. Prescription refills are to be handled by the office on Monday when they open.”

Caller: “But this is an emergency!”

Me: “I apologize, but I am unable to send that page.”

Caller: “You’re the doctor’s office! You have to send it to the doctor! What am I supposed to do until then? Not have sex?”

Me: *just over her attitude* “Ma’am, the doctor’s policy is that prescription refills are to be handled by the office on Monday.”

Caller: *rains down a multitude of expletives before threatening to get me fired and hangs up*

(She STILL calls almost every other month with the same issue. Friendly reminder: if you see you have two days for ANY prescription, please, please, please call it in before then and don’t wait until after hours to get a refill!)

Cholesterol-lol
Jerk, Medical Office, Nurses, Texas, USA | Healthy | July 28, 2018
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I am a female and a teenager. I’m temporarily on a medication that has a lot of side effects, one of the main ones being high cholesterol. I have no prior history of high cholesterol, though. I’m at the doctor’s office with my mom specifically to check that the side effects of the medication are not getting out of hand.)

Nurse: “Okay, so, looking at your results, your cholesterol is higher than it should be.” *addressing my mom* “Mom, no more serving hamburgers, and no more fast food! All that salt, red meat, and fat is really bad for teenagers, even if that’s all they want to eat.”

Mom: “Actually, we never eat fast food, and we’ve been eating pescatarian for the past few months.”

Me: “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve gone to a fast food restaurant in years.”

(The nurse looks a little flustered at this point.)

Nurse: “Well, I know how teenagers are in the summer, so try to do some walking, at least! No more laying around on the couch all day!”

Me: “I’ve actually been swimming a mile every day, and I am working as a lifeguard.”

(The nurse is starting to look annoyed, like she doesn’t believe us.)

Nurse: “Right… Well, you need to fix this, or we’re going to have to put you on medication, and you’re too young to be on cholesterol medication.”

(My mother is getting annoyed and defensive now.)

Mom: “She’s on [Medication]; that’s the whole reason we’re here! Isn’t high cholesterol one of the side effects of the medicine?”

Nurse: *glaring at my mom* “Well… Sometimes.”

Mom: “Don’t you think that might be the reason she has high cholesterol, then?”

(The nurse just walked out at that point, and we didn’t see her the rest of the visit. We mentioned it to the doctor later, but she just said, “Well, your cholesterol is kind of high.” Luckily, once I got off the medication a few months later, my cholesterol dropped back down. But seriously, at least ask questions before making patronizing assumptions about someone’s diet and exercise.)

A Crazy Lack Of Competence
Bad Behavior, Boston, Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Massachusetts, Nurses, USA | Healthy | July 27, 2018
(I’m Bipolar I and not medicated. We’ve tried a few different combinations of drugs for me, but unfortunately I either have side effects or it simply doesn’t help anything. While therapy has been helpful, it’s not perfect; I still need the occasional trip to a psychiatric hospital. For this particular incident, I am sent to a completely different hospital, which I later learn is more adequately equipped to handle patients seeking drug rehab. However, even that seems to be inaccurate, as I learn during my three-and-a-half day visit. On day one, a patient and the head of the wing are talking in a common area:)

Patient #1 : “When do you think I can go home?”

Doctor #1 : “Sunday. Your insurance lets us hold you another week.”

(For a little context, during a previous group session I had with [Patient #1 ], he mentioned he’s been here almost two weeks and the head of the group commented on how much progress he’s made. As my stay continues, it isn’t uncommon to overhear the nurses gossiping about how they can’t believe the doctors still won’t discharge [Patient #1 ]. Day two: one of the other patients is a new mother with apparently no thought filter. As a result, she frequently talks about how she has to pump if the subject even remotely drifts towards family or children. One of the other patients finally gets fed up with it and a fight nearly breaks out. Unlike the mother, the other patient is allowed to leave the wing to go have lunch in the cafeteria.)

Doctor #2 : “Okay, [Patient #3 ], you just lost your cafeteria privilege for today.”

Me: “But doesn’t [Patient #2 ] have to stay up here, too?”

Doctor #2 : “Of course.”

Me: “So, you’re going to lock them in the wing together when most of the staff is down in the cafeteria?”

Patient #1 : “Besides, isn’t [Patient #3 ] getting discharged tomorrow?”

(After enough of us band together, the doctors finally agree the best thing they can do for both patients is to separate them. Also of note, a fourth patient is discharged at the end of day two, with a certain nurse helping her gather her things. On day three, though I’ve only had three or four sessions with her, I bid [Patient #3 ] farewell as she is gathering her things from the storage locker with the same nurse who assisted yesterday’s discharge. Just as I go to leave:)

Patient #3 : “Where’s my backpack?”

Nurse #1 : “Your what?”

Patient #3 : “My backpack. I came in with a pink backpack from [Brand]. Where is it?”

Nurse #1 : “We only had one like that. It was [Patient #4]’s, wasn’t it?”

Patient #3 : “Wha?!”

Nurse #1 : “She said that bag was hers. We gave it to her when she left last night.”

Patient #3 : “YOU GAVE HER MY BACKPACK?!”

Nurse #1 : “Sorry. We’ll call the police and report the theft.”

Patient 3: “WHAT THE F***’S THAT GOING TO DO? SHE’S BEEN GONE A DAY ALREADY! WHY DIDN’T ANY OF YOU NOTICE THE BAG WASN’T LABELLED FOR HER?” *begins crying*

Nurse #1 : “Calm down! It’s just a backpack!”

Patient #3 : “THAT BACKPACK HAD MY WALLET IN IT! WITH MY LICENSE AND SOCIAL SECURITY CARD! YOU LET HER STEAL MY IDENTITY!”

Nurse #1 : “We can replace those things!”

Patient #3 : “IT HAD THE ONLY PICTURE I HAVE OF ME WITH MY FATHER! YOU CAN’T REPLACE THAT! HE DIED AFTER I WAS BORN!”

Me: “Get the f****** police already, you dips***!”

(I didn’t know what else to do. The police do show up, though I have no idea how this story ends or if anything was done about [Nurse #1 ]. On day four — my release day — I’m sitting in the common area playing cards, waiting for my girlfriend to show up and drive me home. Needing a fourth for Hearts, one of the nurses agrees to join us.)

Nurse #2 : “[My Name], you sure know how to pick ’em. Of all the weeks you could’ve shown up!”

Me: “I’m amazed, too.”

Nurse #2 : “Yeah, but this ain’t even the worst of it. One patient last year always ran his mouth. ‘I’m in for bestiality!’ ‘I’m a member of the local KKK and they think this’ll cure me!’ and on and on. All cause he didn’t want to admit he tried to kill himself after his girlfriend broke up with him.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Nurse #2 : “Yeah, he just kept making excuses to justify the cuts on his arms.”

Me: “You can’t tell us that! His medical records are still privileged!”

(I’ve never been back. I haven’t looked it up yet, because I’m truly frightened that it might still be open.)