During my freshman year in high school, my science teacher assigned us to interview people in the community about how they use science in their careers. Although I don’t remember most of the people I spoke with, I can tell you that I spent meaningful time with a local community pharmacist who changed my life.
What I saw was a man who loved his career and truly cared for his patients. In an instant, I knew that I wanted to become a pharmacist, and I never wavered from that goal throughout high school.
Knowing what you want to be when you grow up at age 14 is unusual, but it is very liberating. I simply had to work backwards to figure out how to achieve my goal of becoming a pharmacist.
After high school, I chose to attend Ohio Northern University (ONU) because it had a unique pharmacy program. Rather than attending college for 2 years and then applying to the pharmacy program, ONU students were admitted to the College of Pharmacy from day one.
Although it was expensive, being in pharmacy school from day one and avoiding the risk of rejection made it worthwhile for me.
In college, I spent a lot of time in the library. Although the classwork was difficult, I did well with one exception: organic chemistry.
I did fail organic chemistry—a notorious “weed out” course—but I successfully retook the class over the summer and graduated on time with the rest of my classmates. Failing a course is a difficult stumbling block, but I stood strong and persevered.
Today, I’m thankful for the wonderful pharmacy profession for so many reasons.
First, I’m thankful that community pharmacists are the health care professionals most accessible to the public. If my local pharmacist wasn’t accessible to me, then I likely would have taken a different career path.
Second, I’m proud of the work we pharmacists do, the diversity of our career options, and the relationships we share with our patients and fellow health care providers.
Pharmacy is a profession that makes a real difference in people’s lives. It certainly has made all the difference in mine.
Chattanooga, Extra Stupid, Health & Body, Patients, 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.)
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!)
Doctor/Physician, England, Folkestone, Hospital, Kent, 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!)
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.
Connecticut, Health & Body, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy Right | October 29, 2018
(I’m a pharmacy tech at a chain pharmacy. I’m working the drive-thru. A truck pulls up blaring loud metal music, and the driver is smoking. He does not turn down the music like most people do when at the window, and I’m having a hard time hearing him.)
Customer: “I’m trying to get one prescription. I need the [Brand Antibiotic], but NOT the–” *indecipherable due to the music*
Me: “I’m sorry, which one do you want?”
Customer: *a little louder* “The [Brand Antibiotic].”
(I take down his information into the computer. I have to re-ask several times because of the music, which he still hasn’t turned down. He’s also still smoking, and flicking ash out of the window, ON MY SIDE.)
Me: “There’s only one prescription here.”
Customer: “What?”
Me: *louder* There’s only one prescription.”
Customer: “Is it the [Brand Antibiotic]?”
Me: *still loud* “I will check with the pharmacist.”
(I grab the script, which is NOT an antibiotic. I’ve shut the window to keep the smoke from getting in; the music is loud enough to be heard on the other end of the pharmacy. The pharmacist confirms this is not an antibiotic, but is a specially requested one he’d been calling to transfer over from a different pharmacy.)
Me: “Sir, this is the only one we have.”
(I show him the prescription, so he can see what it is.)
Customer: “Ok, I’ll take it.”
(I finish up the transaction; he pays and drives away. About ten minutes later, he’s back in my lane, blaring the same loud music.)
Customer: “This isn’t the one I requested. I specifically told you NOT to give me this prescription. Where’s the one that the doctor transferred over?”
Me: “This is the only one that was called in.”
Customer: “I’m not taking this prescription anymore. Why was this called in? I want to speak to the manager.”
(The manager is busy. He’s been listening to the customer and is fed up with him. I use this time to double check his profile. There’s still no record of an antibiotic being called in before, during, or after the transaction.)
Me: “Sir, nothing else has been called in.”
Customer: “I don’t want this one. I told you I didn’t want this one.”
(I apologize at least twice, and return his medication, and he drives away, with my ears ringing.)
Manager: “So what happened with [Customer]?”
(I explained the ordeal, and he was obviously annoyed at the customer’s behavior. Less than a half hour later, we received a call from an associate of the customer. The pharmacist, who had had enough of the guy, took the call personally and explained what happened. Still not sure if the guy has gotten the antibiotic yet…)
Atlanta, Bad Behavior, Doctor/Physician, Georgia, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | October 27, 2018
(My daughter is born almost three months early and spends the first ten weeks of her life in the hospital. The day she is born, I start using a breast pump, so that I can take milk to her. Shortly after she comes home, we quickly realize that breastfeeding is an unpleasant experience for both of us, so I decide to continue pumping, but to supplement with formula during the night. It takes three weeks after she gets home, and me jumping through hoops and making phone calls daily, to get her insurance pushed through and active, so I can finally get her to her first pediatric appointment. Because I do not have a running car, I make an appointment at the office just down the road, and my mother is generous enough to drive us there. We arrive about ten minutes before the appointment, but we end up waiting more than half an hour after the scheduled time to be called back. The nurse calls a name that is somewhat similar to my daughter’s, but is incorrect, and is often used as a last name. After she calls the name two or three times, and neither of the other two families in the waiting room move, I ask if she is calling for [Daughter]. She nods and waves her hand and tells us to follow her. Once in an exam room, we wait about another twenty minutes before the doctor comes in.)
Doctor: *not looking up from her paperwork* “So, what formula is she using?”
Me: “None. I currently give her breast milk.”
Doctor: “All breast milk? That’s great!” *goes on about how great it is that my daughter gets exclusively breast milk, and about the benefits of breastfeeding*
Me: “Thanks. I wanted to start giving her formula once in a while, but I’m not sure what kind would be best for her.”
Doctor: “Oh.” *suddenly less enthused* “Okay. So, he’s five months old, right?”
Me: “No. She is three months.”
Doctor: *pulling the blanket down from my daughter’s face* “Cute. Let me wash my hands.”
(I then receive a lecture on germs, about making everyone around my daughter wash their hands, and about not only keeping her away from anyone sick, but just not taking her outside at all or letting her around family. A few minutes later, while examining her
Doctor: “She’s cute. What’s her name?”
Me: “[Daughter].” *internally alarmed because did this doctor not even look at any of the papers*
Doctor: “[Daughter].” *sarcastically* “Hmm. Unique. So, how’s the breast feeding going?”
Me: “I pump, and then we give her a bottle. Since she spent the first two and half mo–”
Doctor: *interrupting me* “She has a suck reflex. She can breastfeed.”
Me: “We’ve tried a few times, but it just hasn’t worked out well. She does better–”
Doctor: *interrupting me again* “She can breastfeed.”
Me: “She falls asleep every few minutes, and I have to wake her up continually.”
Doctor: “That’s fine.”
Me: “After an hour or two of nursing, she still hasn’t had enough to be a meal.”
Doctor: “That’s fine. Just let her keep doing it. It’s good practice.”
Me: “Okay, we will nurse here and there for comfort or a snack between feeds, but I’m struggling with my supply, hence the formula. But for the most part–”
Doctor: *interrupting again, this time very forcefully* “There is no reason not to breastfeed! You need to stop using the pump, and your supply will increase. You don’t need the bottles. She can do it, so do it!”
You don’t need the bottles. She can do it, so do it!”
Me: “Fine.”
Doctor: “Okay. Did the hospital give you a packet about [vaccine]?”
Me: “Yes. It’s in my bag on the chair.”
Doctor: “Get it for me.”
(Keeping my fingertips on my daughter’s leg, I stretch over and grab the packet. As soon as I stand up
Doctor: *scolding* “Don’t do that! Don’t ever do that! Don’t ever turn your back on your baby or look away! That’s how they fall off the table!”
Me: *defeated, flat* “Okay.”
Doctor: “I’m going to prescribe a formula for preemies; it has extra calories. You’ll get it when you go into the WIC office and give them this form.”
(I’m not on WIC, nor have I applied.)
Me: “Okay. Can I get it from a pharmacy? I have a bit of a transportation issue and may not be able to get there for a few days. Is there anything I can give her in the meantime?”
Doctor: *ignoring me* “You can take it there today, or tomorrow, or whenever is convenient.”
Me: “Where is the this office even located?”
Doctor: *waving me off* “Ask the receptionist when you check out. I want you to set up an appointment two weeks from now at our location in [City 30 minutes away] to get her next vaccines; I don’t do shots. Also, I want to see her back here next week so that I can check her weight. Does she have any other follow-up appointments?”
Me: *internally cringing at the thought of seeing this lady again* “Yes. She needs to see an audiologist. I just got the contact information for them yesterday. I was going to call them today, once we left here.”
Doctor: “Call them. She needs to go to that appointment. What about her eyes?”
Me: “She had her eyes looked at earlier this week at [office]. They gave her eyes a clean bill and said they don’t need to see her again.”
Doctor: “Do they need to see her again? What did they say?”
Me: *internally sighing* “They said her eyes are fine; she doesn’t need to go back.”
Doctor: “Good. But what about her hearing? Did they say anything about that? Do you have an appointment? Who with? When is the appointment?”
Me: “I haven’t made the appointment yet. I just got the information yesterday. I’m going to call them today.”
Doctor: “Make the appointment. Call them. She needs to go.”
(This went around and around a few times, with me confirming over and over. When we got to the checkout counter, I told the receptionist what the doctor said, and she was surprised. I asked if we could see someone else for the next appointment, and was told that until the doctor released my daughter as a patient, we had to see her again. The entire next appointment, unless I interjected or physically placed myself in front of her, the doctor directed every comment, question, or concern to my mother, who simply gave her a deer-in-the-headlights look. I assumed this was because though I am in my 20s and married, I look younger and the doctor assumed that I was some high school kid that got knocked up. Feeling frustrated, and still needing to get formula, I called the NICU that my daughter spent the first weeks of her life in. I explained the situation, and the charge nurse was very understanding and apologetic for my experience. She told me what formula they generally send preemie babies home with, and told me that I could pick it up at just about any grocery store with a baby section. I looked it up so that I could get a picture of the container to ask my husband to bring it home. Then, out of curiosity, I checked the paperwork with the prescription formula that the doctor gave me, and it was the same thing! I am currently looking for a different pediatrician.)
If You Act Like A Baby, You’ll Be Treated Like One
Groton, Massachusetts, Medical Office, Patients, Silly, USA | Healthy | October 25, 2018
(I’ve never been a fan of getting shots; I would faint every time I got one until I was around twelve. Despite being in my twenties at the time of this story, when I have to take an intramuscular shot, I am less than enthusiastic, gritting my teeth, planting my heels firmly into the floor, and angrily hissing “son of a w****” repeatedly.)
Nurse: “Okay, you’re all set. Are you all right?”
Me: *inhaling deeply and forcing myself to relax* “Hsss… Yeah, I’m fine… I mean, uh–” *fake baby voice* “Wah! That hurt! I want a lollipop!”
Call Center, Crazy Requests, Extra Stupid, Florida, Patients, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | October 24, 2018
(I work as a customer service representative. Our company manages prescription plans for a government-run insurance primarily for seniors. We also function as a mail-order pharmacy. This call takes place while I’m still in training during my first week taking calls.)
Me: “This is [My Name]; how can I help you?”
Customer: “Yeah. My husband needs to start taking [drug]. I want to know if his plan will cover it.”
Me: “I can certainly check that for you, ma’am. May I have some information?”
(After I verify her husband’s account information, I look up the medication.)
Me: “Okay. Your husband’s insurance will cover that for an approximate cost of [total].”
Customer: “Well, that seems like too much, but he needs it. Can you send it to him, please?”
Me: “Let me see.”
(I check, and we do not have a prescription for it, nor has another pharmacy filed a claim.)
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We will need your husband’s doctor to send us a new prescription before we can fill it.”
Customer: “Oh. Well, his doctor won’t write it. You have to stop drinking for six months, and my husband likes to have a beer or two every night, so the doctor won’t write one.”
Me: “I’m sorry. But without a prescription, we cannot send a medication.”
Customer: *getting angry* “But I told you that his doctor won’t write the prescription! Can’t you just send it if we pay full price?”
Me: “Again, ma’am, I’m sorry, but we must have a prescription before we can send the medication.”
Customer: “Well, why can’t you just send it?!”
Me: *rubbing my temples at this point* “Ma’am, that would be illegal.”
Call Center, Crazy Requests, Extra Stupid, Florida, Patients, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | October 24, 2018
(I work as a customer service representative. Our company manages prescription plans for a government-run insurance primarily for seniors. We also function as a mail-order pharmacy. This call takes place while I’m still in training during my first week taking calls.)
Me: “This is [My Name]; how can I help you?”
Customer: “Yeah. My husband needs to start taking [drug]. I want to know if his plan will cover it.”
Me: “I can certainly check that for you, ma’am. May I have some information?”
(After I verify her husband’s account information, I look up the medication.)
Me: “Okay. Your husband’s insurance will cover that for an approximate cost of [total].”
Customer: “Well, that seems like too much, but he needs it. Can you send it to him, please?”
Me: “Let me see.”
(I check, and we do not have a prescription for it, nor has another pharmacy filed a claim.)
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We will need your husband’s doctor to send us a new prescription before we can fill it.”
Customer: “Oh. Well, his doctor won’t write it. You have to stop drinking for six months, and my husband likes to have a beer or two every night, so the doctor won’t write one.”
Me: “I’m sorry. But without a prescription, we cannot send a medication.”
Customer: *getting angry* “But I told you that his doctor won’t write the prescription! Can’t you just send it if we pay full price?”
Me: “Again, ma’am, I’m sorry, but we must have a prescription before we can send the medication.”
Customer: “Well, why can’t you just send it?!”
Me: *rubbing my temples at this point* “Ma’am, that would be illegal.”
California, Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Patients, Revolting, USA | Healthy | October 23, 2018
When I was very pregnant — ready-to-pop pregnant — I went to an appointment, to make sure everything was still going good, heart beating, moving around, all that stuff. I decided to grab fast food on the way in, and soon realized that my stomach wasn’t happy with my choice.
When I got into the appointment, I mentioned that I was slightly worried that there had been no Braxton Hicks, and the nurse assured me that I probably had but just didn’t realize it, and hooked me up to monitors. The whole time we were talking, I was holding in an incredible amount of gas, and trying to be discreet. She walked out and closed the door, and I finally let it go.
My husbands eyes were watering, and the thunder actually knocked things off the shelves. The first was followed by several more rather powerful explosions. At this point I was surprised the paint wasn’t peeling off the walls, and I looked over at the contraction machine and realized that it was faithfully recording every rumble. I was dying, knowing that the nurse was going to come in any second and have her eyebrows sizzled off by the noxious fumes. My husband was trying very hard to appear supportive and not laugh, but failing miserably.
The nurse came back in, and apparently completely oblivious to the smell, triumphantly held up the contraction tape to declare, “See?! You are having contractions! Powerful ones, too. Those are what we are looking for!”
My husband almost fell out of his seat, howling and wiping his eyes, while I was left to explain that no, that was my lunch, and those were literally the most monstrous farts I had ever been involved with.
To this day, I cannot figure out how she was able to walk into that green haze, and not realize what was actually going on.
Can’t Catch Anything Worse Than That Rotten Attitude
Bad Behavior, Canada, Friends, Health & Body, Lazy/Unhelpful, Manitoba, Street, Winnipeg | Healthy | October 21, 2018
(My friend and I are walking down the street when an old man suddenly collapses in front of us.)
Me: “Sir? Are you all right? SIR?!” *no answer*
Friend: “Call 911!”
Me: “On it.”
(The ambulance arrives in less than five minutes. Sadly, the old man has died. He had a massive heart attack and was probably dead before he hit the ground.)
Me: *suddenly realizing* “Wait a minute. [Friend], don’t you know CPR?”
Friend: *looking shifty* “Yes. Why?”
Me: “Why didn’t you do anything for him?”
Friend: “Because he looked gross. I didn’t want to catch anything. Besides, he was dead already; it wouldn’t have done any good, anyway.”
Me: “…”
(We’re still friends, but I lost a lot of respect for her that day.)
California, Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Jerk, Non-Dialogue, USA | Healthy | October 20, 2018
I have been battling with a cold for a couple days before finally caving and going to see a doctor, as I think it might be the flu. When I’m there, I also bring up the fact that I have been having some acid reflux issues as of late. I bring these all up to the nurse practitioner who is seeing me before answering the standard questions.
I firmly believe the two people you should always be honest with are your doctor and your therapist. I also have fibromyalgia and other chronic pain issues and I will, on occasion, use CBD or marijuana to help with the pain, as I don’t like taking pain pills. When asked if I smoke, I answer honestly.
The minute I bring up marijuana use, my doctor stops trying to figure out what is causing the acid reflux. He immediately goes on a tirade about how some people are allergic to marijuana, and says I am most likely allergic and should stop because prescription drugs would be a better solution.
Keep in mind, I have been using marijuana for this issue for over six months and the acid reflux issue started only a month ago. When I try to direct him toward other possibilities, he directs it back toward marijuana being the source. Turns out, it’s the breakfast sandwiches I have been eating in the mornings, which I’ve had to figure out on my own.
Australia, Bizarre, Hospital, New South Wales, Patients | Healthy | October 19, 2018
(I am about eight years old, before mobile phones. I’m at the local hospital emergency room with my mum and brother after my brother broke his arm playing hockey. It’s packed and the wait is around four hours. A man in his 60s patiently waits in line to check in. He waits about twenty minutes with no visible injuries.)
Nurse: “Can I help you?”
Man: “Ah, yes, I guess. I’ve been shot.”
Nurse: “Sir, we’re extremely busy here.”
Man: “I’ve been shot. I think I need to see a doc.”
Nurse: “Sir, we’re extremely busy and I don’t have time for jokes. Please leave.”
Man: “No joke. I need to see a doc.”
(He turned around and lifted his jacket and shirt up to reveal a gunshot wound in his back. The nurse went pale and called for help, telling the man to sit in a chair. It turns out he’d been driving along a bumpy dirt track with a shotgun in the tray of his ute. One of the bumps must have knocked the trigger, because the bullet went through the tray and the driver’s seat into his back, the tray and seat slowing it down a fair bit but still causing problems. He then drove himself almost 50 kms to the hospital and waited in line.)
Arkansas, Employees, Ignoring & Inattentive, Pets & Animals, Retail, USA | Healthy | October 18, 2018
(I have a sleep disorder. This disability is mitigated by my service dog, a Labrador. I am taken to a store for some items I need. This is generally not an issue. My service dog goes with me, because it isn’t safe to leave her home. Unfortunately, I begin to have issues. My dog alerts me, so I quickly stop what I am doing to find a worker.)
Me: “Listen. I have exactly one minute before I pass out. Please do not call the EMTs. I will be fine.”
(My service dog is whining and pawing at me, basically getting in my way, and trying to get me on the floor before I pass out — basically, what she’s trained to do.)
Employee: “Yeah, whatever.”
(I knew this was a bad sign, but I didn’t exactly have the time to find someone else. I sat on the floor nearby and promptly passed out. I woke up being loaded into an ambulance while animal control was taking my service dog into a cage. My dog was understandably freaking out, trying to come to me, because they were disrupting her work. I have a medical alert bracelet that says NOT to separate my dog from me on my wrist. I was still a bit out of it from passing out. I did the only thing I could think to do: scream at the top of my lungs. Everyone stopped to look at me. It took ten minutes to convince the EMTs to let me go, and longer to get animal control to give my dog back to me. This was all because an employee didn’t listen. Apparently, they had panicked when they saw me on the floor. They ran over, which prompted my dog to gently nudge her away from me — not aggressively, just a gentle push. She is a larger dog, though. The employee called 911, saying that my dog had attacked me and tried to hurt them. Mind you, my service dog was in full dress: a harness that says, “service dog.” on both sides, a collar that also says, “service dog,” on it, a tag stating that she is for medical alerts, AND a leash that says, “Service Dog. Do Not Pet.” I realize that retail isn’t a fun time, but that whole incident could easily have been avoided. I did inform their manager, but they still work there, so I don’t know what all happened. They glare at me every time they see me, though.)
Assisted Living, Geeks Rule, Michigan, Patients, Silly, USA | Healthy | October 18, 2018
(I work at the front desk at an assisted living home for seniors. I’m just sitting here, minding my own business, when a rather upset resident in her 80s comes up to the desk.)
Me: “Hello, [Resident]. What’s the matter?”
Resident: “I don’t know if I should tell you…” *wringing her hands*
Me: “It’s okay; you can tell me.”
Resident: *shifts eyes around before leaning in close* “He’s coming back. Voldemort.”
Me: *eyes go wide* “Uh…”
Resident: “You don’t believe me. No one does. But Voldemort is coming, and the children are going to die.”
(I called for staff to come help her to her room, and just stared as they walked her back to her room while she continued on about Dark Marks and wards and spells. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the riddikulus-ness or be super impressed that an 80-year-old had Harry Potter knowledge. I think I’ll go with both.)
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