(An order comes to my pharmacy for a well-known antibiotic. This antibiotic is known to smell exactly like rotten eggs, so most of us just hold our breath while we count it and try not to think about it too much. We dispense it to a woman who is picking it up for her teenage son. Everything is normal and she leaves with the prescription, but about 10 minutes later she comes stomping back into the pharmacy, pretty much shoves the person that I am currently helping out of the way, and throws the bottle of medication on the counter.)
Customer: “I want to speak to your manager right now! You guys gave me rotten medication!”
Me: “Really? Let me look at the expiration date on your bottle. Normally we don’t keep anything that has one less than a year away.”
(I look at the bottle and see that the pharmacist wrote a date of over a year away, and I go over to our stock bottle and check and the numbers correspond with each other.)
Me: “Hmm. Well, ma’am, it doesn’t look like this medication is expired but I will have the phar—”
Customer: “You are just lying! I mean, come on and open that bottle! It smells totally rotten! I can’t believe that you would ever give someone bad medication! My son is very very ill!”
Me: “Oh, that’s just because the active chemical that is in this medication has a bad smell. Trust me, I wish there was something that we could do about it back here, too. Most of us hold our breath while we count it.”
Customer: “Stop ****** lying to me. You just don’t want to admit you did something wrong! I will have your job for this, b****!
(At this point the pharmacist who has been listening the whole time walks over.)
Pharmacist: “Ma’am, while I don’t like the fact that you are calling my staff names like that I will let you know two things. One is, certain chemicals have a bad smell. It’s just a fact of life. So, while I know that smell is unpleasant, it’s just one of those side effects that come with being able to take medications that will help your sick son. I assure you it’s supposed to smell that bad. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t work right. Two, since you don’t seem to want to listen to my employees and call them awful names, this will be the last time that you or any members of your family can shop or fill any type of medication here. Maybe in the future you can learn how to treat people the way you want to be treated.”
(The woman proceeded to turn bright red with embarrassment and tried to apologize, but my boss wouldn’t hear it. That was almost two years ago and he still will not allow her or her family to fill their prescriptions at his pharmacy.)
Emergency Services, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, Patients, UK | Healthy | August 27, 2018
(I’m 22 years old, female, and reasonably healthy for my age while living away at university. When I’m home at my parents for Christmas, I suddenly get a sharp pain in the centre of my chest, radiating out to the centre of my right rib cage. It’s not too severe at first, but I cannot walk straight and end up laying on the floor for two hours.)
Mom: *sitting on my bed, trying to keep me calm, talking to the out-of-hours telephone service, as well* “This pain has never happened before; I’m not really sure what to do here.”
Phone Responder: “All right, there’s not much we can do, unfortunately; judging by your description it could be a diaphragm spasm or a fructose allergy causing the tightness. You can give her pain relief, but all we can recommend is to call your GP in the morning.”
Mom: “All right, thank you.”
(Thankfully, the pain passes in about three hours, so we figure it’s a one-time thing and continue our lives. I get more pains, like this one and worse, about two or three times a year until I’m 24, where I finally go to my GP after a particularly bad “attack” where I end up vomiting from the pain.)
Me: *describes the symptoms in detail* “I was speaking to a family friend who’s had gallstones and says she had the same pains. Could it be that?”
Doctor: “Hmm, I doubt it; you’re simply too young and too healthy for it. It’s probably acid reflux. Try some [Known Heartburn Brand] for a while and see how you get on with that.”
(I leave and do as he asks, and for a while it seems to work… until this year at the age of 25. I have a pain so bad I begin violently vomiting, begging my mom to call an ambulance because I’m convinced something inside me has ruptured because of the severity of the pain. She does, and thankfully they arrive within minutes. I’m unable to talk because of the pain, so my mom is the one having to describe everything.)
Mom: *helping me explain the pain and pointing where it is on her own body, since I’m curled up into a ball on the bathroom floor* “She’s had these pains before, but never this bad. We don’t like to bother emergency services unless it’s severe.”
Paramedic: “We’ll try paracetamol and [heartburn medicine] first to see if that helps. Is that okay?”
(I nod, and the paramedics do as they promised, but after 20 minutes the pain is still worsening and I’m not able to think on anything else anymore. I can’t breathe, I feel like I’m dying or I’m going to pass out, and it’s overall a terrifying experience.)
Paramedic: “All right, since that’s not helping we’re going to give her some gas and air until we can move her over to the bed and check her over, okay?”
Mom: “That’s fine; she’s definitely not allergic to anything, so she can have whatever is needed.”
(Thankfully, the gas and air dulls the pain enough for me to get off the bathroom floor onto my bed, but it’s still severe and I’m shivering from the intensity. The paramedics do all their checks, pressing on the area with the pain, which causes me to cry again.)
Paramedic: “I think she’s got something wrong with her gallbladder. It’s unusual for her age, but it’s the only explanation for this pain and the area of it. I think it would be wise for her to go to hospital to check for sludge stuck in there or stones.”
(My mom agreed, but I insisted that she stay home so she didn’t have to see me in pain anymore. Once I was in the ambulance, I was also given morphine and some anti-vomiting medicine, as I was still being sick. At the hospital, the pain was starting to fade and eventually the emergency room nurse discharged me with the diagnosis of stress from just finishing university. I was tired, delirious, and fed up at this point, so even though I tried to argue, I didn’t have the strength and I left. I went back to my GP a few weeks later, and with a note from the ambulance team included in my file with their suspicions, and my mom not letting me leave without an answer, I was booked in for an ultrasound and a blood test. The ultrasound revealed I had some of the biggest gallstones the staff had ever seen in someone of my age, and I’m now waiting on surgery to remove my entire gallbladder. Just because someone doesn’t match the “average” symptom group doesn’t mean it’s absolutely not that illness, and if I had been listened to in the first place, I wouldn’t be losing my gallbladder!)
Dentist, Doctor/Physician, Instant Karma, Jerk, Nurses, USA | Healthy | August 27, 2018
(I haven’t been to the dentist for several years, but an old family friend — who cleaned my teeth when I was a child — has recently moved to the area, so I go to her for a cleaning. The following takes place with her hands and tools inside my mouth, so I can’t spit.)
Hygienist: “You really need to brush your rear teeth better. I know you can, because they’re clean right now. But your lazy brushing has caused all sorts of problems back here. And you really need to lay off the soda. Really, sugar in general. And high-acid foods and drinks. Soda is pretty much the worst, though. And greasy food isn’t much better! You clearly eat too much fast food, and it’s not good for you. Your back teeth are just falling apart because of all that junk food!”
(Her tirade continues for more than ten minutes. She lectures me like I’m still a child despite that I’m in my mid-20s, before she finally removes her hands so I can pause to rinse and spit. She immediately reaches to start again, but I hold up a hand.)
Me: “We need to get something straight. I don’t eat high-acid foods, or greasy foods. I can’t afford to eat out, even cheap fast food. And I have soda maybe once a month. And while I don’t claim to be perfect, and do occasionally forget to brush before bed when I’m exhausted, I am meticulous about cleaning all my teeth, especially the molars. The reason why they’re so bad off is that I have severe acid reflux. I have had it my whole life. I even had an ulcer a few years back. That’s why I can’t eat any of that crap, and why I can’t help my teeth being somewhat decalcified. Until my doctor and I get the reflux under control, there’s nothing I can do to improve my teeth.”
(I sat back, opened wide, and let her resume cleaning. She was silent for a few minutes, before softly starting to catch me up on the doings of her own kids, who I hadn’t seen in years and was glad to hear about. The rest of the appointment went smoothly after that, and the dentist was informed of my reflux before walking into the room, so he didn’t repeat her mistake. I ended up needing all five of my wisdom teeth removed — apparently I had an extra one — due to extreme decalcification. They were honestly getting spongy by that point. But the visit ended well, and I still go back to the same folks, sans lectures now.)
Extra Stupid, Hospital, Language & Words, Missouri, USA | Healthy | August 26, 2018
(I am sitting in the waiting room, hoping my ankle isn’t broken, when I overhear this
Mom: *to dad, dragging her five-year-old girl behind her* “Yeah, the doctor said it was just idiot pathetic vomiting. We have to come in if she tries it again.”
(It took me a while to figure out this lady was trying to pronounce, “idiopathic,” meaning, “of unknown cause.” That poor kid!)
Australia, Extra Stupid, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive | Healthy | August 25, 2018
(I work at the main information and patient enquiries desk for a major hospital. I get asked the full range of questions, some often way out of my scope of knowledge, but I try my best to at least point people in the right direction! People often give me very few details of what they want and just assume I will read their mind. I cannot check patients in for appointments; I must direct them to the clinic they are seeing.)
Me: “Good morning! How can I help you?”
Visitor: “[Last Name].”
Me: “Is that an inpatient you’re looking for?”
Visitor: “I have an appointment. [Last Name].”
Me: “Okay, what type of specialist are you seeing?”
Visitor: “[Last Name].”
Me: “Okay, I don’t need your name, just what type of doctor you’re seeing. What’s it for? Your heart? Bones? Lungs?”
Visitor: “[Last Name].”
Visitor’s Friend: “1:30.”
Me: *to friend* “What type of specialist?”
Visitor’s Friend: “[Last Name].”
Me: *trying so very hard to remain calm* “What. Kind. Of. Doctor?”
Visitor’s Friend: “Oh! I’m not sure. Hang on; let me check the paperwork…”
Doctor/Physician, Extra Stupid, Hospital, Norway, Patients | Healthy | August 24, 2018
(I’m rather clumsy, and this time it lands me in the ER. The doctor that’s checking me out is actually my neighbor.)
Doctor: “All right, what did you do this time?”
Me: “Well, I woke up and wanted to finish reading my book from yesterday, but I wanted to make breakfast, as well, so I walked downstairs whilst reading, and I kind of fell…”
Doctor: *long pause* “At least you read, right?”
(I managed to break a bone in my arm, and needed a cast.)
Australia, Bizarre, Hospital, Time | Healthy | August 22, 2018
(I work on a switchboard for a major hospital. We take all external and internal calls then direct them to the appropriate department.)
Me: “Good morning, [Hospital].”
Caller: “Hi, can I speak with someone about rescheduling my appointment?”
Me: “I’m sorry, but you will need to speak to the outpatients department, and they do not open until nine am; you will have to call back a bit later!”
Caller: “Oh, what time is it now?”
Me: “It’s 8:15.”
Caller: “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was so early! I hope I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Me: “Um… No?”
(Yes, he was completely serious; he continued on the conversation as normal after that! I’ll never know if it was just an instinctive reaction for him to say that, or if he genuinely thinks we sleep when there are no calls?)
Crazy Requests, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Illinois, Nurses, Patients, USA | Healthy | August 20, 2018
(I am an NCT — a nursing care tech — basically one rung down from a nurse. We check vitals, help transport patients for surgeries or procedures, track their progress and double-check their treatment plans, help patients shower or get to the bathroom, and generally make sure that nurses and patients have what they need, and that none of the patients are showing signs of any impending medical problems or complications. We are legally not allowed to give medicine, administer treatments, contact patient family members for any reason, or give medical advice. All of this information is told to the patients when they arrive, and is in the information packet all the patients are given, along with a flow chart about who to call for what problem. Additionally, in my hospital, all NCTs wear green scrubs, all nurses wear blue, and all doctors wear white. This patient, who has been here for about a week and a half, calls me in.)
Patient: “My back feels just awful. Could you go get my next dose of painkillers a little early?”
Me: “I’m not allowed to give you any medications, I’m afraid. I can go get your nurse, though, or you can call her with this number on the board. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Patient: “Well, can you adjust my IV at least?”
Me: “I can’t do that, either; I’ll have to grab your nurse.”
Patient: “What about my sister? Did you call her with the new care plan?”
Me: “That’s also the nurse; I can’t contact your family.”
Patient: “Well, what about my diagnosis? What do you think I should do?”
Me: “I’m not allowed to offer any medical advice, either. Let me call your nurse, okay? She’ll be able to help you with all of this.”
Charity, Connecticut, Emergency Services, Extra Stupid, USA | Healthy | August 19, 2018
(I’m an EMT. My partner and I are called to a homeless shelter/halfway house for a “sick call.” This means a non-life-threatening issue. We arrive and unload the stretcher. There’s about ten stairs and a small elevator right inside the door. I start to open the door of the elevator when I’m greeted by staff.)
Staff: “You’re going to the second floor. Oh, that elevator doesn’t work.”
Me: “Okay. Do you have another one?”
Staff: “Sure, it’s up here around the corner.”
Me: “Great. How can I access it?”
Staff: “Come on up the stairs and go to the end of the hall.”
Me: “That’s not going to work. Do you have another access point? A ramp, maybe?”
Staff: “We have an elevator around the corner here.”
Me: “That’s great, but if this elevator doesn’t work, how am I going to get my stretcher to the second floor?”
Staff: *exasperated* “There’s an elevator right over here! Right around the corner.”
Me: “I understand that. But how would you like me to get my stretcher up these stairs to get to that elevator?”
Staff: *blank stare*
Me: *to my partner* “Let’s just leave it here, see the patient, and figure it out from there.”
(When we got to the other elevator it was so small our stretcher wouldn’t have fit, anyway, even if we folded the back.)
At The Checkout, Harassment, Health & Body, Kansas, Retail, Strangers, USA | Healthy | August 18, 2018
(I am working the register at my store. My coworkers are all busy elsewhere, and it is a slow part of the day, when an old man walks up and purchases a small item. Things are going normally until I hand him his change. It should be noted that I have a mild form of adult acne.)
Customer: “Do you know you have a red thing on your face?”
(He points toward a small flare up of acne on my cheek. I blink for a moment, because while part of me knows what he’s pointing at, no one has ever said anything directly to me about it before.)
Me: “What do you mean?”
Customer: “You have a red thing on your face. I know what that is. It’s caused by anxiety.”
(I have never had anxiety issues, and now that I have confirmed what he’s talking about, I speak with a deadpan tone.)
Me: “Sir, I have acne.”
(I’ve never really been self-conscious about my acne, but I don’t like the way he’s talking about it. He takes his receipt and starts heading for the door while still talking to me.)
Customer: “Yes, and that is caused by anxiety. I have seen this before.”
(My tone has gone cold, and in my head I’m wondering why my personal health is his business.)
Me: “Sir… my mother is a nurse.”
(What I’m hoping he’ll pick up on is the implication that, “if something were seriously wrong with my face, she would know,” but he doesn’t get the hint.)
Customer: “I worked fifty-five years in medical technology maintenance.”
Me: “So, you never actually practiced medicine, then.”
Customer: “I have seen this before. It’s anxiety.”
(He then starts rambling something I don’t quite follow, but he makes it sound like he’s had bugs grow out of his own acne in the past. Or seen them grow out of acne in other people. Or maybe even caused them to grow out of other people’s skin infections. The main thing I key in on is his use of the words “grow out of,” which does not give me mental images of bacteria. It genuinely sounds like he’s talking about live insects growing out of people’s faces, which is incredibly creepy.)
Me: “Are you a doctor?”
(I ask this bluntly, trying to convey with my tone and expression that if he is not a licensed medical professional, I do NOT want his opinion on my face, and he needs to stop talking.)
Customer: “I work with medical equipment. But I have seen this before. It’s anxiety. It is.”
(Thankfully, after that the customer just kind of nodded and walked out the door. To date, he’s the creepiest customer I’ve had to serve.)
Extra Stupid, France, Medical Office, Reception | Healthy | August 17, 2018
(This takes place when I’m in college. I get a call around ten am from the secretary of a doctor’s office, saying the doctor will be late for the appointment. The secretary got the wrong number and I’m not the person she was trying to reach. As I have class all morning, I only see the missed call and the message at noon. I assume it’s too late to call back to say they have the wrong number, because the appointment was scheduled the morning, anyway, so the patient probably already went to the doctor’s office. I don’t think about it anymore, but the next day I get another call from the secretary. This time she calls while I’m on my break, so I answer.)
Secretary: “Hello, [Patient]. This is [Doctor’s Office]. I’m calling you about your file; I need some info.”
Me: “Oh, actually, you got the wrong number; I’m not [Patient].”
Secretary: “What do you mean it’s the wrong number ? It’s…” *she dictates my phone number* “…right?”
Bizarre, Medical Office, New York, Non-Dialogue, Phone, USA | Healthy | August 16, 2018
When I was a kid, my family had a separate phone line for our fax machine. One day, we received a fax containing a prescription for medication for my mom’s uncle who lived a few towns away.
We were quite bewildered, as we didn’t think mom’s uncle had our fax number, nor did he have any apparent reason for sending this particular document to us. We eventually found out that our fax number was only one digit off from that of a local pharmacy, and the fax had come from a doctor’s office. Apparently someone at the office was trying to send the prescription to the pharmacy but misdialed.
It was a complete coincidence that the prescription just happened to be for someone we knew.
Doctor/Physician, Florida, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | August 15, 2018
(My father was recently diagnosed with a genetic heart condition, and his doctors want all of his children to be checked for the condition. I make an appointment with my doctor so I can get a referral to a cardiologist.)
Doctor: “What are you here for today?”
Me: “My father was just diagnosed with [heart condition], and his doctors have ordered all of his kids to be tested for it. I just need a referral to a cardiologist.”
Doctor: “You’re way too young to be worrying about that. A heart condition wouldn’t affect you right now.”
Me: *initially speechless* “Well, I’d rather get the tests done so it isn’t a problem later.”
Doctor: “As I said, you’re too young. I’ll see you back in a few months for your annual.”
(The doctor left. Needless to say, that doctor did not see me back again. When the practice asked why I was attempting to switch doctors — something they usually don’t allow — I happily told them the whole story and requested that it be put on the doctor’s file as an official complaint. I eventually got the referral and did not have the genetic condition, but they did find a minor issue that just needed to be noted and checked every few years.)
Bad Behavior, Dentist, Patients, Pennsylvania, USA | Healthy | August 14, 2018
(My dad is a dentist, and his office is a suite attached to the house. As a child, I am home sick from school, and Dad is with a patient. The door to the office chimes, followed by a long bang. By the time his hygienist comes out to check, the waiting room is empty. Meanwhile, I wake up to a man standing at the foot of my bed. I yell in a panic, and he looks strangely at me, and then puts a hand to his cheek.)
Patient: “I know my appointment isn’t until tomorrow, but this is killing me. Can you fit me in today?”
(Sick and scared, I kept yelling until my dad came running in, still wearing his mask. The patient had walked into the waiting room and, finding it empty, had broken down the door between the office and the house. Then, he had wandered through the house until he found the ten-year-old asleep in bed, and tried to reschedule his appointment. My father was furious and refused to work on him. The guy was surprised.)
“The Adventures Of Harold, Benjy, And Carmen” Sounds Awesome
Colorado, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Jerk, Patients, Therapist, USA | Healthy | August 13, 2018
(I’m in a short-term rehab center, recovering from surgery. A speech therapist comes in with a form in her hands.)
Therapist: “Good morning! I’ll just take a couple of minutes here to see how your speech and language skills are, all right?”
Me: “I suppose.”
(I teach special needs, and immediately recognize the form; it’s the mental acuity screener. BAH!)
Therapist: “Can you tell me where you are?”
(This goes on for awhile, and I’m getting irritated.)
Therapist: “Now, would you name these three animals?”
(She shows me sketch of a lion, an elephant, and a hippo.)
Me: “How about Harold, Benjy, and Carmen?”
Therapist: *silent*
Me: “Well, the task as phrased was to name the animals. If it were stated correctly, you would have asked me to identify the animals, and I would have told you they were a lion, elephant, and hippo.”
Therapist: *silent, but grinning*
Me: “And the number they told me to remember when I had this identical screening in the hospital was 74.”
Health & Body, Liars/Scammers, Retail, USA, Washington | Healthy | August 12, 2018
(I work as the customer service manager for a furniture store. While I am at lunch they make a sale of a chair from the floor. Floor sales are final. I get back from lunch and the phone rings.)
Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. How can I help?”
Customer: “I was in earlier and bought a chair off your floor for my husband. I got home and my son told me he had the same one, so I want my money back.”
Me: *not knowing if it was special order or from the floor* “Let me check your order.”
(I pull up the invoice and see that it’s a floor item, and that she also signed the paperwork acknowledging that the sale was final.)
Me: “I’m sorry, but you purchased this from the floor. All floor sales are final.”
Customer: “But my son has the same one. I bought this for my husband so he can be comfortable, because he’s going through chemo and it’s hard for him. I don’t want the chair anymore! You have to give me my money back!”
Me: “I’m sorry that you and your husband are going through that, but you signed the paperwork acknowledging that this was a final sale.”
Customer: “You have to give me my money back! I want to speak to your manager!”
(I wave the manager over and she tells the woman the same thing. The customer huffs but gets off the phone. The next day
Me: *answers the phone* “Thank you for calling [Store]. How can I help?”
Customer: *from yesterday* “I bought a chair and don’t want it anymore. Give me a refund.”
Me: “Ma’am, as we explained yesterday, all floor sales are final. You agreed to this and signed the paperwork.”
Customer: *bursts into tears* “But I bought that chair to make things easier for my husband and he just died!”
(I can’t help but think, “Right, because the first thing I’d do after my husband passed would be to get a refund on a chair.”)
Me: “Let me get the manager.”
(I pass the phone to my manager who talks to the woman for about five minutes and decides it’s easier to just give her the refund. A couple months later, I answer the phone.)
Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. How can I help?”
Customer: *with the chair* “Listen, [Manager], I’m looking at my statement and the money hasn’t been refunded yet. I want my money back!”
Me: “This isn’t [Manager]; this is [My Name].”
(Before I can say anything else, she cuts me off.)
Customer: “Well, I want my money back. I’m having to drive my husband to and from chemo all the time, and I’m financially hurting. Get me my money!”
(I pass the phone to my manager, who talks for a few minutes and hangs up.)
Florida, Jerk, Medical Office, Non-Dialogue, Patients, Strangers, USA | Healthy | August 11, 2018
When I was around twelve I began experiencing repeated and painful skin infections in practically every scrape or scratch I got. This led to very frequent visits to my pediatrician for, at first, prescription strength antibiotic ointments, and then multiple tests to find out the cause of the infections. My doctors were amazing. But their other patients… not so much.
One experience that sticks out is the day I went in to get a blood draw. We were fairly early, so my mom and I waited out in the empty lobby. I tended to sit with one leg folded under me and the other knee pulled up to my chest so I could “crouch” on the chair and balance my Harry Potter book on my foot so I could read. It looked odd to most people, but I’ve always found it comfortable.
Not long after we settled in, another mother — a very rude lady — and her son came in. Though we didn’t know them by name, the pair were not unfamiliar to us, as we saw them around town often and the son had been doing occupational therapy with a partner at my mom’s company. The rude lady’s son had some fairly significant physical and mental handicaps and was vocal but nonverbal, and was, through no fault of his own, already making loud sounds and yells as his mother physically dragged him into the lobby.
Instead of sitting in any of the other empty twenty odd seats, the rude lady pulled her son over and sat down directly across from us, with about two feet of aisle space separating our knees. The rude lady immediately struck up conversation with my mom, while I continued reading.
They seemed to be getting along fine, and I tuned them out until I caught this lovely gem, seemingly out of nowhere: the rude lady suddenly leaned forward, patted my mom on the knee, and said in the most condescending and mock-sympathetic voice, “Is she mentally r*****ed?”
This, of course, caught my attention. My mom was staring at her in shock when I looked up and said, “Wow, that’s rude, lady. Just because your kid has some problems doesn’t mean everyone else’s does.”
In hindsight, this was quite cruel of me to say, and I regret saying it every time I think back to this experience. In private, my mom scolded me for pulling the rude lady’s son into it, and she was very right to do so.
The strangest thing out of it all, though, was that once the rude lady got over sputtering a few choice slurs at us, she roughly grabbed her son’s arm and marched out of the pediatrician’s office. Only afterwards did we realize she had never gone up to the front desk to check in or schedule an appointment. It seemed that her entire reason for coming in was to engage with another mother-child duo in the hope that she would find someone else going through the same experiences as her.
With A Mother Like That, Pain Tolerance Is Through The Roof
Georgia, Hospital, Jerk, Non-Dialogue, Nurses, Parents/Guardians, Patients, USA | Healthy | August 10, 2018
I am seven months pregnant, and my friend picks me up for a girl’s night. We watch movies, eat junk food, etc., until she falls asleep about one am. At two, I’m still up, unable to get comfortable. I’ve been having Braxton Hicks contractions for the last couple of days, but tonight they’re just relentless.
I consider waking my friend up to take me home; however, she has epilepsy, often triggered by exhaustion and lack of sleep. She’s a bit of a worry-wort, and I don’t want to have her be tired, panic, and end up having a seizure, especially while we’re on the road.
About six am, I get a hold of my mother, and she agrees to come get me. By this point, the contractions hurt, and I can’t really sit or stand. But I don’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill, so I just grit my teeth and breathe until they’re over. Once there, my mom tells me that she doesn’t really know how to help me, but that she’s going to take me to the hospital, just in case there’s a problem.
When we get to the hospital, I have to stop every couple of steps to breathe and crouch over. My mother comments, “You don’t have a very high pain tolerance, do you? You’ve never really been able to handle pain.”
I ignore her comment because she’s been saying this since I was a kid. Once we finally make it to labor and delivery, the nurse — who has a really cool tattoo sleeve — tests for leaking amniotic fluid, and checks my cervix. She makes a less than promising face, then tells me that she’s going to grab another nurse for another opinion.
She comes back with an older lady that doesn’t even look at me. They go to the counter and I hear the nurse with the sleeve showing her the amniotic test. “It’s faint, but I definitely see a line.” The older nurse glances at it and quickly dismisses her, “No, no. It’s definitely negative.” The sleeved nurse says, “No, I think it’s positive for fluid. Can you at least check her cervix? I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I think it’s close.” The older nurse rolls her eyes, “It isn’t close to her due date, but fine.”
The older nurse then turns to me and goes to check my cervix. Her eyes widen, and she turns back to the nurse with the sleeve. Unfortunately, I have another contraction and only manage to catch a couple key words of their conversation. Then, the older nurse leaves. The sleeved nurse gently talks me through the contraction, and then tells me what’s going on:
At 29 weeks, I am in labor, already eight centimeters dilated, though my water hasn’t broken. The baby could come at any time now, but they are going to try to give me some medications to slow it down. She says that she is going to call the doctor to get approval on some pain medication for me.
Six hours later, I give birth to a healthy baby girl, who is rushed off to the NICU. I silently labored for almost 12 hours, and almost had my baby at my friend’s house. After everything calms down, I am bewildered at my mother’s “low pain tolerance” comment, and I wonder what would’ve happened if I had only seen the older nurse and not had the sleeved nurse to stand up for me. The sleeved nurse was the most amazing healthcare professional I’d ever had, because for the first time, she took what I said seriously. My daughter is doing well, and will hopefully be able to come home soon. My mother still believes that I’m over-dramatic and wimpy when it comes to pain, but at least I can say I went through most of my labor without medication or complaint.
(I’m a vet in a country town in Australia. Here, certain prescription drugs for farm animals can be dispensed for use without us seeing the animals, as long as a vet has been onto the property in the previous 12 months. This is rarely an issue, as we go to most farms on a regular basis to do routine work; however, I have trained the receptionists to check a client’s file every time they order drugs, just to confirm when we were last out there. For some background info, a common practice for shearing sheep is to sedate full grown rams, just enough to make them a bit easier to handle, as rams can often weigh as much or more than your average shearer, and can hurt you if they decide to put up a fight. These days, almost all shearers refuse to shear rams without sedation. The sedative used is, of course, a prescription drug, although to my knowledge it is no longer used in people. I haven’t been at this practice very long, so I don’t really know anyone. My boss, on the other hand, has been a vet for a while and knows just about everyone in the community. I’m sure you can see where this is going
Receptionist: “[Client] is out the front, wanting [Sedative] for 60 rams. The shearers are coming today, but we haven’t been to the property in over four years. He won’t listen to me at all. Can you please talk to him?”
Me: *heading out to front desk* “Hello, [Client], I believe you’re wanting [Sedative]? [Receptionist] has already told you we can’t give it to you. We haven’t been to your farm for a while now.”
Client: “That’s bulls***. [Boss] gives it to me all the time!”
Me: “Well, I’m not [Boss], so I’m not giving it to you without a farm visit.”
Client: “Come on. Everyone knows I’ve got sheep. What the h*** else would I use [Sedative] for?”
Me: “I don’t know, but people get creative. I don’t know who you are, and I’ve never been to your farm, so I have no idea if you actually have sheep or not.”
Client: “So, you’re going to charge me to come out to my property so that you can see I’m not lying to you. That’s bulls***.”
Me: “That’s exactly right, [Client]. It’s the law. If I get caught dispensing drugs inappropriately, I can get into serious trouble and possibly lose my licence, permanently. I am not prepared to risk years of hard work and a job I love just so you can save $150. Just because [Boss] does it, that does not mean I have to do it. So, either I come out to your farm, or you wait until [Boss] is back in the clinic, and you can take it up with him.”
Client: “Oh…” *suddenly goes very quiet* “I didn’t know you guys could get in trouble.”
Me: “That’s okay. I suspect [Boss] doesn’t, either, which is probably why he just gives it out. Now, I can be at your farm in about an hour; will that be okay?”
Client: “Yes, thank you.”
(Everything went smoothly after that, and [Client] even gave me a box of chocolates to apologise for being difficult. My boss very quickly changed how he worked once I showed him the legislation, and backed me up if other clients ever came in to argue. The original client was also good enough to spread the word around town, and within six months we stopped having issues.)
College & University, Extra Stupid, Health & Body, New York, Rude & Risque, USA | Healthy | August 9, 2018
(I’m visiting a zoology lab that researches amphibians, which is a facility I’ve never been in before. While I’m sitting in an office chatting with a PhD student and waiting for a meeting, I notice a post-it that says “Clinic” and has a phone number.)
Me: “Hey, that’s not the extension for student health.”
PhD Student: “Oh, no, that’s a [City] free clinic. They do STI testing.”
Me: “Uh… Okay.”
PhD Student: “Yeah, it gets more use than you’d think around here.”
(My understanding of what the amphibian lab gets up to slowly starts to dissolve, when the PhD student speaks up again.)
PhD Student: “Yeah… People just Google ‘herpetology’ without knowing what it means, apparently.”
Jerk, Minnesota, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | August 9, 2018
(It’s Memorial Day, and my pharmacy is one of the few within a 20-mile radius that is open. My coworker is on break and I am managing the front of the pharmacy.)
Me: “Hi, sir, how I can help you today?”
Customer: “I’m here to pick up two prescriptions for [Customer].”
Me: “All right, sir, it looks like I have one prescription ready for you, but the other prescription — your [Prescription] — we’re still waiting to hear back from your doctor for more refills.”
Customer: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THEY’RE NOT DONE?!”
Me: “There is one prescription done and ready for you to pick up, sir. The other prescription you requested, your [Prescription], isn’t, because we haven’t heard back from your doctor yet.”
Customer: “I HATE THIS PLACE! YOU GUYS NEVER HAVE ANYTHING DONE! I BROUGHT TWO PRESCRIPTIONS IN ON FRIDAY, AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THEY’RE STILL NOT DONE?!”
Me: “Sir, I have one prescription ready for you right now.” *pause* “The other one is still waiting on your doctor for approval, and since it’s Memorial Day, we may not hear back from your doctor until tomorrow.”
Customer: “You guys are horrible! You never have anything done for me! I hate it here!” *walks off*
(After he walked away, I looked back at the screen to see when he brought in the prescriptions. And turns out, he brought them in yesterday, not Friday. But either way, we still had one he could have taken home with him.)
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