Health Care stories

Weird Is The Word
Hospital, Impossible Demands, Patients, USA | Healthy | April 9, 2020
I work in an ER as a health unit coordinator, which means one of my many jobs is answering the phones. I’m not allowed to look up patients’ medical records except for in certain circumstances.

The phone rings.

Me: “[ER], this is [My Name]; how can I help you?”

Man: “What’s this word?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Man: “This word in front of me; what does it mean?”

Me: “Sir, I can’t see what’s in front of you. Could you spell the word out for me?”

He spells out a word and I write it down; it’s not a word, term, or medication I’ve ever heard of before. I pronounce it how I assume the word would be pronounced.

Man: “What is it?”

Me: “I’m not sure. Uh… how can I help you?”

Man: “This paper here said to call this number for the pharmacy if I had any questions, so I did!”

Me: “Sir, this is the ER.”

Man: “Oh, really?! Can you, like, look up medical records?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but unfortunately, I can’t do that.”

Man: “Really? You can’t look it up for [Man]?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, I’m not allowed.”

Man: “Aw, man! Okay, well, have a good night!”

That was one of the weirdest calls I have ever gotten.

Self-Isolate Before It’s Too Iso-Late
Australia, Current Events, Health & Body, Hospital, Stupid | Healthy | April 8, 2020
This call takes place in mid-February 2020, just as the panic is starting but before any of the major lockdowns in Australia. My hospital has just opened up a testing clinic but is only accepting patients who meet certain criteria. I’m a switchboard operator, and we’re not medically trained and are not meant to give advice, but in this strange new world we’re in we are finding ourselves having to triage callers to help lighten the load.

Caller: “I heard you guys are testing for that Corona? Where do I go?”

Me: “Okay, first, I just need to check that you meet the criteria to be tested. Are you currently experiencing flu-like symptoms?”

Caller: “Yes, my husband and I have a fever and sore throat.”

Me: “Okay, and have you been overseas in the last fourteen days?”

Caller: “Yes, we just got back from Italy two days ago.”

Me: “Okay. It sounds like you do meet the criteria to be tested.”

I give specific instructions for how to access the clinic using a special entrance.

Caller: “Okay, thanks. We’ll come in soon. Oh, also, my aunty is admitted there with you guys at the moment. Might as well kill two birds with one stone and visit her while we’re there!”

Me: “Umm, no, please don’t do that.”

Caller: “Huh? Why not?”

Me: “Uh… They ask you to self-isolate if you believe you have it. I would not recommend visiting an inpatient.”

Caller: “What? Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense. Okay, we won’t visit her, then. Thank you, bye!”

This is why it’s spreading!

A Depressing Misunderstanding
California, Los Angeles, Medical Office, Nurses, USA, Wordplay | Healthy | April 7, 2020
I’ve recently started antidepressants, and a nurse calls me a few days later to check on me.

Nurse: “How are you feeling? Are the meds working for you?”

Me: “A bit better, but I’m still taking stock.”

Nurse: “What was that?”

Me: “I’m taking stock? To see if I feel better?”

Nurse: “You shouldn’t be doing that.”

Me: “What? Why not?”

Nurse: “You shouldn’t be taking anything not prescribed by your doctor.”

Me: “But I’m taking stock; it’s just an idiom. Because I’m not sure yet whether the medicine is working.”

Nurse: “Would you like me to have the pharmacy give you a call?”

Me: “That would probably help. Thank you.”

America, Ladies And Gents!
Billing, Colorado, Editors' Choice, Health & Body, Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Stupid, USA | Healthy | April 6, 2020
My dad needed to get his physical done and went to our family doctor. The doctor’s office was located in a sort of strip mall setup along with other private practitioners and specialists. This building was, in turn, located directly adjacent to the actual local hospital, even sharing the same parking lot.

As part of the physical, my dad was getting blood drawn but the nurse had difficulty getting their needle into his veins, meaning he had a needle probing in his body much longer than usual. Eventually, his body decided enough was enough and he seized.

Worried for his health, they quickly loaded my dad onto a gurney and wheeled him across the parking lot to the ER where he was quickly diagnosed as being fine. After he recovered, the blood draw was rescheduled and he headed home.

Fast forward a few weeks: a bill from the hospital arrived. Since he’d gone to the ER, my dad was expecting a high price, but this proved to be even more than expected by several hundred dollars.

Looking through the itemized bill, it was mostly the expected expenses: ER visit, fluids, etc. What stuck out was the several-hundred-dollar ambulance service my dad apparently got from being wheeled across the parking lot on a gurney.

He fought the bill, saying he might have paid if they’d at least put him in an ambulance and let him turn on the siren.

Finally, Someone With A Dose Of Sense
California, Pharmacy, Reception, USA, Vet | Healthy | April 3, 2020
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

There are certain medications that can be used in both humans and animals, but usually, the dosages are very different. One of these medications is Phenobarbital, a seizure medication. Our office doesn’t keep this medication in stock so we have to call it in to a human pharmacy.

One of our canine patients is on Phenobarbital. He has been stable on his dose for years, but they do not make a pill in the size he needs, so we prescribe him two different sizes to add up to the right amount. Apparently, this is not regularly done with humans, because every time we call in his medication we get a call from the pharmacy to confirm some things. So, we put a note on his file with what to say when they call back.

I am training a new receptionist and have just had her call in his refill authorization. Soon after. we get the expected call from the pharmacist. She has the pharmacy on hold and asks what to do, so I tell her to open his chart and read the script.

New Receptionist: “Hello. Apparently, I have to read this note to you. Yes, he needs both sizes. Yes, at the same time. Yes, we know this is a very large dose for a human, but he is a dog. He is a very large dog. He has been taking the pills like this for years now. Thank you.”

I am sitting there listening to her side of this, fighting the urge to facepalm, and thinking it was pretty obvious that those were meant to be the responses to questions she would be asked and not to be read straight through like that.

The pharmacist says something and she replies:

New Receptionist: “I’m not sure. Um, looks like the note was dated four years ago.” *Pause* “Um, I think so; let me check.” *Turns to me* “Hey, [My Name], have we been saying this every time we call his medication in?”

I nod and she turns back to the phone.

New Receptionist: “Yeah, we have.” *Pause* “Really? That’d probably save everyone some time. Thanks.” *Hangs up* “They are going to put a copy of our note on their computers so they don’t have to keep calling in every time.”

Me: “Wait, they could do that? I thought it was a requirement for them to confirm odd-sounding doses, and that the phone calls were just formalities so they could check a box saying they did it. How did none of them ever notice that we were having the same conversation every four months?”

We no longer get confirmation calls for that patient.

Didn’t Pass The Think-It-Through Checkpoint
Alberta, Canada, Current Events, Health & Body, Medical Office, Parents/Guardians | Healthy | April 2, 2020
It’s -17C, windchill to -19C, but the cutoff for “don’t take the baby outside unless the house is on fire” is -20 including windchill, so I bundle her three outfits deep under her snowsuit, mittens, toque, and bunting, and catch the bus to an appointment. She’s asleep by the time we get there, but I’m wide awake, cheeks frosty, steps quick. Stepping in, I find an antiviral checkpoint just inside the front door, manned by a guy in a white bodysuit and a blue mask.

My first thought: “Oh, no, zombies!”

I might be very slightly drunk on sleep deprivation.

Checkpoint Guy: “Hi, there! Just before you step in, can I ask you some questions?”

Me: “Sure.”

[Checkpoint Guy] asks about travel and a list of symptoms. I answer each question the same way.

Me: “Nope.”

Checkpoint Guy: “All righty, then. Let me just check your guys’ temperatures — or I assume you’ve got a passenger in there!”

Me: “Yup!”

I crack open one of the hoods, displaying a bundle of cloth that has two cheeks, two closed eyes, a nose, and no other visible skin.

Checkpoint Guy: “Awww! I shouldn’t have to wake her up. Just that little cheeky-cheek should be good!”

I think of my own frosty cheeks.

Me: “Her cheek’s going to be pretty cold.”

Checkpoint Guy: “Yup! Little cheeky-cheek!”

His remote thermometer beeps and shows 30.

Checkpoint Guy: “Okey-dokey! Now, I need to do you.”

Me: “Sure.”

[Checkpoint Guy] beeps my cheek.

Checkpoint Guy: “Yup! You’re good! Just have some hand sanitizer and you’re on your way!”

Me: “Sure.”

I use sanitizer, go through, and push the elevator button.

New Voice Behind Me: “Aren’t you cold?”

Checkpoint Guy: “Nope! I’m good! I’ve got long johns, extra shirts, and warm gloves under the medical gloves. Standing right by the door all day — I’m prepared!”

Pause.

Checkpoint Guy: “You know, everyone I’ve checked has read really low, like 30 degrees. Do you think it’s because they just came in from the outdoors?”

Yes, I mentioned this hitch to the doctor I saw.

On April First, Trust No One
Editors' Choice, Family & Kids, Holidays, Hospital, Nurses, Pennsylvania, Pranks, USA | Healthy | April 1, 2020
My wife was in labor for about twenty hours before deciding to do a cesarean section. I am 6’8″ tall and about 300 pounds. During our visits through the pregnancy, I regularly joked around with the doctor. Even in the Lamaze classes, I would joke around, typically embarrassing my beautiful wife.

My oldest son was born via C-Section at 11:50 PM on March 31st. I was there, I watched, and I was exhausted. It was gruesome and awesome at the same time.

I was extremely emotional — had a son! I was crying tears of joy.

After he was extracted from his nine-month sentence inside of my wife, he was swaddled appropriately by the nurses in the operating room. We were both then whisked away: him to the nursery to get de-munged, and me to see my large family — brothers, parents,

Godparents, etc. — all of whom were at the hospital waiting in anticipation of the big event.

So, there I was, telling my family that we had a beautiful boy, and that everyone was okay. I was blubbering as tears were still streaming.

All of a sudden, in an over-the-top manner, a nurse came running around the corner and said, “Mr. [My Name], Mr. [My Name]! They need you back in the operating room! The second one just came out!”

Huh, what? What? WHAT?! Oh, my God! I started running down the hall to go back to the operating room. I’ve never been considered graceful, and it really wasn’t pretty to see me lumbering down the hall.

I heard the nurse call out again, “MR. [MY NAME]!”

My response was dramatic and immediate as I spun to look at her. “WHAT?” I exclaimed.

With a very calm demeanor and a twinkle in her eye, she said, very matter-of-factly, “April Fools.”

I could have been knocked over with a feather. I stammered and stammered. Meanwhile, my family, who witnessed the event, were in stitches enjoying the whole scene as it played out in front of them.

In the operating room, my wife was laughing (while being stitched back together). All of this was the doctor’s idea, II suppose a little of my own medicine after enduring me throughout the pregnancy.

It’s a story that I tell often, not only for the humor in it, but also because it was one of the greatest days of my life: the day I met a great person, my wonderful son.

April Is A Nice Name
California, Children, Hospital, Pranks, Sons & Daughters, USA | Healthy | April 1, 2020
It is April Fool’s Day. I go into the hospital for a scheduled cesarean for my third child. Thanks to both a blood test and an ultrasound, we know we’re having a boy. The surgery starts, and it doesn’t go as expected.

Doctor: “Oh, wow, look at that!”

Surgical Tech: “Oh, my gosh.”

Me: “What?”

Doctor: “Okay, it’s a girl.”

Me & Husband: “What?”

Husband: “Did you say, ‘girl’?”

I just started laughing. And that’s how our daughter entered the world — by conning us into thinking she was going to be a boy, and revealing her true nature on April Fools Day. Well played, baby. Well played.

At Least The Names They Picked Had Letters In Them
California, Editors' Choice, Funny Names, Pets & Animals, Silly, USA, Vet | Healthy | March 30, 2020
I work for a vet, and I’m checking in a new patient. She was adopted from a shelter about a year ago and is now due for her annual exam and vaccines. Her entire family comes with her: Mom, Dad, and three pre-teen or teen children.

Me: “The shelter paperwork says her name is Princess. Is that still her name?”

I get five very clear negative responses.

Me: “So, what is her new name?”

Simultaneously, each from a different person, I hear the names Molly, Fluffy, Annie, Coco, and Jessie. They then fall into a several-minute-long discussion of names where they actually end up adding at least three other options. I let them continue until an exam room is available and then lead them in and put the chart on the doctor’s ready pile. When the doctor grabs her chart, he gives me a look.

Me: “It’s the only thing they all agreed on.”

The doctor shrugs and walks into the room.

Doctor: “So, this is the dog formerly known as Princess?”

This Debt Collector Had Better Hope HE Has Insurance
Debt Collection, Employees, Ignoring & Inattentive, Insurance, Jerk, USA | Healthy | March 29, 2020
(I’m a broke college student supporting myself with student loans, whatever hours I can get at my work-study job, and the small amount of money my parents can spare. Luckily, I’m still on my parents’ insurance. When I get into a bad bike accident and have to get stitches and x-rays at the hospital, their insurance covers the bill. It’s been a couple of months since then when I answer a call from a number I don’t recognize.)

Caller: “Am I speaking to [My Name]?”

Me: “This is her.”

Caller: “My name is [Caller], and I’m calling on behalf of [Debt Collection Agency] about an unpaid medical bill.”

Me: “What? I didn’t think I had any unpaid bills.”

Caller: “The bill is [amount] for an ambulance ride on [date of the bike accident].”

Me: “But my insurance covered that!”

Caller: “Sometimes insurance doesn’t cover certain services, like ambulances, if they are seen as unnecessary.”

(The ambulance was definitely necessary since there was a suspicion at the time that I’d seriously injured my neck and I was bleeding profusely from my head.)

Caller: “The billing department attempted to contact you multiple times, but you’ve consistently ignored them. Now the bill has been sent to us, and it will negatively affect your credit. However, if you pay it right now, we can try to remove it from your credit report. How will you be paying today, [Card #1 ] or [Card #2]?”

Me: “Um, I won’t be paying today. I need to contact my insurance company to see what’s going on. This should have been covered, and I’ve never heard of it before today.”

Caller: “If you don’t pay today, your credit will be negatively affected. You will never be able to get a loan, a mortgage, or a credit card.”

Me: “I need to talk to my insurance company before I do anything.”

(He keeps trying to convince me, so I eventually just hang up. I contact my insurance company and find that no claim was ever submitted for the ambulance trip and that they would have covered it if it was. Then, I call the hospital billing department to figure this out. It takes a very long time to reach the right person, but I finally find out what happened.

In an amazing display of incompetence, someone had billed it to the wrong insurance company in the wrong state using the wrong contact details. Obviously, that claim was denied, so they sent the bill to whatever address they’d written on the claim. With this level of screwing up, I’m guessing they mixed up my file with someone else’s.

Luckily, the person I talk to is more helpful, and she gets all the information she needs to submit the claim to my real insurance. She also promises to take the whole incident off my credit report once everything’s done. However, it will take several weeks at the very least for the claim to go through. In the meantime, I get another call several days later from the same bill collector.)

Caller: *after making sure he’s speaking to me* “Our records indicate that you still haven’t paid your bill. What payment method–”

Me: *cutting him off before he can get too far into this* “I’ve contacted my insurance and the hospital’s billing department and gotten the whole thing sorted out. There was a billing mistake. Many, in fact. But the claim has been properly submitted to my insurance now. It just takes a while to go through.”

Caller: “Well, you still haven’t paid. It’s on your credit report. I can’t take it off at this point since you’ve refused to pay it once already, but paying today will make sure your credit doesn’t get even worse. How will you be paying today, [Card #1 ] or [Card #2]?”

Me: “As I said, my insurance is paying it. We just have to wait for the claim to go through.”

Caller: “But your credit–”

Me: “The billing department said they’d take it off my credit report completely, as they’re the ones who made the mistake.”

Caller: “I’m looking at your credit report right now, and it’s not looking good.”

Me: “The claim was only submitted a few days ago. It hasn’t gone through yet.”

Caller: “If you pay in full right now, this will go away immediately. No need to wait for the claim to go through.”

Me: “Hold on. You want me to pay for something that I never needed to pay for in the first place, just to speed things up? That’s ridiculous! And even if I was going to pay, it’s not like I have that kind of money just lying around.”

Caller: “Surely you have some jewelry or electronics you could sell. I can give you the address of a pawn shop nearby.”

Me: “What? No! I didn’t mean I intended to pay you. My insurance is paying it directly to the hospital. We all just have to be patient.”

(This went back and forth for a while. It became clear that he was working on commission and wouldn’t get any money if the bill was paid through the insurance company. Eventually, I just had to hang up on him again, since it was obvious he was not giving up. He continued to call me multiple times a day for weeks, sometimes during class. Finally, the claim went through, and the debt collector stopped calling.)

This Doctor Is Such A Headache
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office, The Netherlands | Healthy | March 27, 2020
(I have had headaches all my life, but they suddenly become chronic, so I visit the doctor.)

Me: “I have a headache about five days of the week, and I have sleeping problems. I’m not sure which one is causing the other, though.”

(I proceed to give the doctor a list of things I’ve tried and checked, such as diet, climate, schedule, workout regimes, etc.)

Doctor: “I usually recommend a headache diary, but it seems you know pretty well what you’re doing. I suggest reading an hour before going to bed, instead of looking at a screen; that will help.”

Me: “No, that’s not it. I have gone screenless for three weeks but still had headaches. Also, reading before going to bed makes me have trouble falling asleep.”

Doctor: “Oh. Well, I still recommend reading an hour before bed instead of screen time.”

Me: “I am an avid reader, and I assure you that this is not the solution.”

(After going back and forth a few times…)

Doctor: “Well, I still recommend you try it.”

(She then proceeded to walk me to the door, indicating that the consultation was over. When I was back at home fuming, my husband suggested going to get my eyes checked. It turns out, I needed glasses! I could still see sharply, but the strain on my eyes caused the headaches. They were mostly strained by… reading. I’m glad I didn’t listen to the doctor, because more reading would have worsened the headaches. I have a new doctor now.)

The Squeaky Needle Gets The Sweets
Massachusetts, Medical Office, Nurses, Patients, Silly, USA | Healthy | March 25, 2020
(My immunization records for college are incomplete, so I need to get a couple of shots. I hate needles, but I can distract myself from the pain by chatting with the nurse. However, some shots are just more painful than others, and for this particular one I swear and go pale.)

Nurse: “All right, you’re all set! Are you feeling okay?”

Me: *sigh* “Yeah, I’m fine.”

(I pause.)

Me: “I mean…” *fake childish voice* “Wah! It hurts! I want a lolly!”

(I laugh. The nurse arches a brow.)

Nurse: “Do you actually want a lollipop? We’ve got some.”

Me: “What?! YES!”

(The nurse left and came back a minute later with a small bucket of lollipops. I picked a blue raspberry pop and proceeded to text several friends to brag about it.)

Fluffy’s More High-Maintenance Than Most Pets Of His Kind
Awesome, California, Golden Years, Pets & Animals, USA, Vet | Healthy | March 23, 2020
(I work at the front desk at an animal clinic that is located on a street with many assisted living facilities. Most of them are not pet-friendly — they may have an office cat but residents can’t have personal pets — except for the largest of them which is right next door and pet-friendly.

We have a deal with the management of this facility where, whenever a new resident moves in with an animal, we set them up as a patient with us, the facility handles all their billing, we send care instructions to them to make sure the residents don’t forget the doses, and when making appointments we contact both the owner and the facility so they can make sure the owner doesn’t have something else scheduled that day and doesn’t forget their appointment.

For the humans who think they are more self-sufficient than they really are, we make sure someone from the facility is available and needs to take “important paperwork” over to the clinic at the same time the owner needs to leave, to make sure they get there and back safely. Sometimes they slip through alone, though, or decide they have an appointment when we don’t have them on the books, so we are used to having random elderly people coming in.

A clearly distraught elderly woman carrying a small dog carrier comes in one day.)

Woman: “Please, you have to help me!”

Me: “What can we do?”

Woman: “It’s Fluffy! He’s not acting right and I think I need to put him to sleep.” *sobs*

Me: “Oh, dear, we’ll get you and Fluffy in to see the doctor and take a look at him to decide if that is the best thing to do, okay? Now, what is your name so I can pull your chart?”

Woman: “It’s [Name I don’t have in my system].”

Me: “I can’t find you on the computer; have you been in before?”

Woman: “Oh, no, Fluffy and I just moved into our new apartment today and you are so much closer than his old doctor.”

(I figure she is so new the facility hasn’t had time to bring us her paperwork, so I get Fluffy’s age and breed and go about making a chart. We’ll get the rest of her information from the facility when we contact them. Thankfully, we’ve had a cancelation so I can get her into an exam room right away.

A while later, she comes out of the exam room with the doctor, with one of our techs carrying the carrier for her, much happier than when she came in.)

Woman: “And you really think it will cure him, Doctor?”

Doc: “If it doesn’t, you just have your doorman give me a call and we’ll get you back in, no charge. Now, I’m going to have my son carry Fluffy home for you. You have a good day.”

(The doctor is referring to our tech who isn’t actually his son, but that’s the code we use to let the front desk know the resident is not paying us directly and to just smile and say goodbye rather than following the normal checkout process. As soon as she and the tech are out of the building I turn to the doctor.)

Me: “So, we’re charging an exam and what else?”

Doctor: “Nothing.”

Me: “So, just the exam?”

Doctor: “No, Fluffy isn’t real.”

Me: “What?!”

Doctor: “He’s a stuffed toy; he’s just been laying around all day for weeks now. So, I told her we were going to try an experimental treatment, and if it works, that’s great, and if not, she can bring him in to be put to sleep later. Then, I drew up some air from an empty vial and injected it. She said he already looks perkier. Poor thing; she is really far gone.”

(Tech returned almost an hour later. The woman wasn’t from the facility next door, or even the one on the other side of them. She was from the one almost all the way down the block, and they had to check into all of them because she couldn’t recall which apartment building she lived in.

To their staff’s credit, they thought she had gone to get lunch with her daughter and her daughter thought her mom was taking a nap after an exhausting morning of moving in. Nobody knew Fluffy had been feeling bad, or that he was capable of feeling bad.

The experimental treatment worked great for a month, and then Fluffy relapsed and had to come in for another treatment. We gave him his shot once a month for three years, and then one day he just stopped coming in.

Six months later, the daughter brought him in; her mom had become too ill to take Fluffy for his shots so she had just taken him out of the building for a bit and then come back and told her mom he’d had his shot, and now her mom said she couldn’t take care of Fluffy anymore so could we find him a new home. We found him a nice place in the doctor’s office; he’s our supervisor.)

What A Doll
Doctor/Physician, Jerk, Non-Dialogue, USA | Healthy | March 22, 2020
I was born prematurely and at low birth weight. I was four pounds, five ounces at birth. I had none of the typical newborn baby fat; my cheeks were flat and my head was bulging, while the rest of me was skinny and angular. To be blunt, I looked like an alien. Other than that, however, I was perfectly healthy and was discharged a day later. My mother took me for my first doctor’s appointment to a well-known, established pediatrician in town, who was known for being rather coarse in mannerisms but otherwise knowledgeable.

He went through all the usual tasks of a newborn check-up including checking normal infant reflexes. One of them was the step reflex, in which a newborn appears to walk or step when they are held upright and their feet touch a flat surface. The doctor, for some reason, used his hand as the flat surface, and this procedure ended with him supporting my neck and back with one hand and my feet with the other. He looked at me, looked at my mother, and then mimed — with me — a jaunty little dance through the air. To my mother, he remarked, “Look, it’s E.T. riding a bike!”

He honestly couldn’t understand why my mother didn’t find that nearly as amusing as he did. Or why my mother found a new pediatrician.

And she gets annoyed when I point out that, in his defense, I did look like a tiny, baby alien dressed in doll’s clothes.

There’s No Need To Behave Like An Animal About It
Impossible Demands, Pharmacy, USA, Vet | Healthy | March 19, 2020
(I work as a receptionist for a veterinary hospital. Earlier today, I gave a prescription to a client for a drug that is classified as Schedule II, which means it is considered as having high potential for abuse, so our facility is not licensed to carry it on-site. It can only be picked up from a human pharmacy. Thus, we write prescriptions instead of filling them ourselves at our on-site pharmacy. My first interaction with the client ends like this

Client: “So… what do I do with this?” *holds up prescription*

Me: “You take it to a pharmacy, just as you would with a prescription from your doctor. I would recommend calling around to see which places have it first before going anywhere because not all pharmacies can or do carry it.”

Client: “Can you call the pharmacies for me?” *stares expectantly*

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t. There are dozens of pharmacies in the area, and I have no idea which places have this drug. And unfortunately, I have other clients waiting so I’m not able to set aside that kind of time.”

(She’s not happy with my answer, but she takes the prescription and leaves. Maybe an hour later, I get a call from her.)

Client: “So, can I use my insurance card to pick up the medication?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe that’s legal.”

Client: “But I’m getting the medication from a human pharmacy. Why can’t I use my insurance?”

Me: “Because the medication is for your dog, and the prescription is filled out to reflect that. The pharmacy will be aware it is for a dog, and your insurance only covers you. If you have pet insurance, that may or may not help cover it, but that depends on your plan.”

Client: “Well, I should be able to use it. It’s a pharmacy, not a vet. Why can’t I use it?”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but I’m not sure what else I can do for you. If you have further questions, I can ask the vet to speak with you.”

Client: “No. Never mind!” *hangs up*

A Wheelie Cool Therapist
Awesome, Editors' Choice, Hospital, Inspirational, Patients, Therapist, USA | Healthy | March 16, 2020
(I’m a physical therapist. My next patient is reportedly frail; she’s wheelchair-bound and doesn’t leave her bed.)

Patient: “Can you teach me to do a wheelie?”

(I couldn’t help but laugh. She ended up being a fairly healthy girl, albeit with less muscle tone due to her condition. The reason she hadn’t left her bed? The nurses had put a bed alarm on her — standard procedure for someone like her — and she hated moving with an IV.

I wasn’t allowed to teach her how to do a wheelie, but I was able to teach the basic concept. Get a friend to pull you back, practice balancing for a while, and then try it on your own. Shove the wheels, hard, and have someone catch you when you fly backward. I think she’ll be just fine.)

Enough Of This Song And Dance!
Austria, Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Jerk, Non-Dialogue, Patients | Healthy | March 14, 2020
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

I am a musical theatre major, meaning that I spend the better part of my day in a ballet studio dancing or working out, and during what’s left of that day I’m either singing, acting, or both. After having an inherent heart condition fixed as a young teenager, I am proud to say that I am mostly healthy, a couple of minor-ish issues — as well as notorious unresponsiveness to most kinds of medication — aside.

About fifteen months ago, though, I get sick with something that is labelled “minor, superficial pneumonia” at first, and after sitting in my body for about two weeks turns into “asthmatic-spastic bronchitis.” Later, it becomes full-blown asthma bronchiale which, thanks to hyperreactive bronchia, I am very used to catching around twice a year. Usually, after a couple of weeks, it’s gone again, and my asthma falls asleep into insignificance once more.

Not this time.

The weeks come and go, and nothing happens. I’m fully incapable of doing anything at the conservatoire — but thankfully most of my professors are amazing and give me all the support they can possibly give me — and I’m getting more and more frustrated. My pulmonologist, after failing to succeed with several more antibiotics and cortisone therapies, is unwilling to give up on me and refers me to all possible colleagues. I get tested for pertussis, even for tuberculosis — and pretty much everything else — but they can’t find anything.

After just barely passing my semester with the worst possible acceptable grades, I go home for my semester break. By that time, this has gone on nearly two and a half months already. My pulmonologist tells me to continue my treatment, or rather, the search for a concrete diagnosis, as she is at her wit’s end.

I do, and they actually get the idea to do a bronchoscopy where, at last, they find not only a virus, but also bacteria that seem to cause all the trouble, sending me into a spiral of a constant asthma attack, which expresses itself with the symptoms of a chronic, constant bronchitis. They send me home with more antibiotics, telling me I can’t do much more but “sit it out and hope it’ll be gone in four to six months,” and put me on sick leave for my upcoming semester, since I can neither sing, dance, nor do anything on the acting front. I move back in at home with my most amazing, most supportive parents, and I begin my journey of doing not much of anything at all.

All throughout the time, I’m feeling flu-ish sick, with often insufferable headaches and horrible sore throats, short- as well as flat-breathed, and I obviously also cannot get rid of that cough. I have better days and worse, but the worse days definitely outweigh the good ones. Basically, I’m knocked out of my life entirely, and I often even have to think twice if I want to take a brief trip to town.

The months pass and nothing happens. There’s no improvement that lasts longer than two weeks and doesn’t follow a massive breach again. I lose another semester, as well as a fair share of friends. And, due to lack of movement, unsuccessful medication treatment, and, as I only just recently found out, my hypothyroidism acting up again, as well, I gain quite some weight; I’m not obese and still fit into most of my clothes, but you wouldn’t believe me the dance student, either.

I haven’t been idle over that time; I’ve been looking into common and alternative medicine and am in the middle of a doctor marathon, to not much avail except for the revelation of several more issues to work on, and about a month ago — as this has been going on for longer than a year already, and I’m beyond frustrated and only very desperately trying to scratch the final pieces of my patience together — I am referred to the pulmonologist department of my local hospital to finally treat my set-in-stone asthma diagnosis, as many doctors seem to purposefully ignore the bacterial aspect of my issues.

I have so many hopes for this appointment. But when I walk in, I see that, instead of [Doctor #2 ], who I am supposed to have the appointment with, I am met by a super young, and super overwhelmed-looking [Doctor #1 ].

I present him with all kinds of older to recent-ish but not super recent bloodwork and diagnoses and some very real proof that there are indeed physical issues to be resolved.

I explain, “…and this is why your colleague from the immunology department referred me over to you. It’s a rather pressing issue because my new semester is about to start, and I’d hate to miss the third one in a row. I really can’t do any dancing, singing, or much of anything at all, so I’m quite desperate about making progress. But unfortunately, I have issues with medication showing proper effect; it’s been like that since my heart issues way back as a child and starts with super simple things like common painkillers needing super high doses to start working.”

The doctor doesn’t even seem to listen properly. “Well, we couldn’t find anything physical in your test results…”

All they did was a basic lung function test, the results of which often fluctuate depending on my day.

I respond with confusion, “Um… But… I am officially diagnosed with asthma bronchiale already. Also, my lung function results fluctuate really badly, from unacceptable to–”

The doctor cuts me off. “There are no physical issues, and your lung function seems to be low but not concerningly so.”

“Well, as I explained before, it really fluctuates and–”

He interrupts again. “Well, this is definitely not a physical issue, and your lung function is–”

I cut him off this time. “But I really just said…”

[Doctor #1 ] ignores me and gets up to get [Doctor #2 ], who doesn’t even bother to sit down, and very clearly looks like she has no interest whatsoever in being here or helping me.

“Well, as my colleague already informed you, we cannot find any physical issues to work with, and clearly, you are not asthmatic.”

I sigh inwardly. “I really just explained to your colleague before that I have my official asthma diagnosis; I just need treatment for it, which is difficult because most kinds of medications have a really hard time to show any kind of effect besides the side effects, if they even work at all–“

[Doctor #2 ] says, interrupting me harshly, “If you were asthmatic, we would be able to treat you with cortisone inhalers, and those never showed any effect, so all you really have is a hyperresponsive larynx.”

I’m absolutely stunned at how they both have so successfully ignored anything I’ve said in the past couple of minutes. “But… as I said… and my lung function… I know it looks better now but it really, really depends on the day and… It’s really not only the cough; there are so many other issues that–”

Cut off again! “And your lung function isn’t that bad. I’ll just give you [super intense nervous system medication that is usually prescribed to epilepsy and severe anxiety patients, neither of which I even remotely suffer from] for your hyperreactive larynx. As for the fatigue, here’s a referral to outpatient rehab.”

[Doctor #2 ] gets up and leaves again without giving me the chance to say anything at all.

“It’s really not just the cough; it’s–“

[Doctor #1 ] proceeds to explain the effects of the just-prescribed medication without listening.

My mum, who had accompanied me, hasn’t had much of a word, either, so we just decide to give up on that lost cause and leave, both of us boiling inside. Not for one second do I consider having that prescription filled and taking this stuff, no matter how desperate I may be. Looking on the piece of paper, I was handed, I also find out that [Doctor #2 ] put “fatigue,” “chronic cough,” and “obesity” on my rehab prescription, which I am still livid about.

Later that day, I have a routine follow-up appointment with a new cardiologist, who not only is as appalled by this behaviour as we are, but also draws blood and reveals several very physical indeed issues, among them high inflammation signs, my hypothyroidism being at a not-dangerous-but-alarmingly-low level again, and the bacteria still being very, very present within my body. I’m referred to another pulmonologist immediately.

While I am, indeed, missing my third semester in a row, quite unsurprisingly, that new pulmonologist has not only found out that my lung function is currently at a new low point, but confirmed a “clearly asthmatic reaction and movement,” put that into the diagnosis, and promised to investigate if there is anything else behind it that I need to be treated for.

Fascinatingly enough, he has also listened to my medication issues and prescribed me two new inhalers that he’s hoping will help me as one of the 5% who actually do not react to common cortisone treatments.

Anti-Antibiotics
Australia, Doctor/Physician, Lazy/Unhelpful, Medical Office | Healthy | March 13, 2020
(I am twelve weeks pregnant. I have already seen one doctor who left the medical practice and I am seeing a new doctor. He goes through my test results, which the previous doctor had already spoken to me about.)

Doctor: “It says here that these numbers are fine, but the other doctor had you on an iron supplement. You don’t need that.”

Me: “Are you sure? The other doctor was quite worried about my numbers.”

Doctor: “I’m sure. And you are taking antibiotics for a UTI, but you don’t have one.”

Me: “The other doctor said I had proteins in my urine which indicated a UTI.”

Doctor: “No, definitely not.”

Me: “Okay, I need a referral for a twelve-week scan.”

Doctor: “You don’t need that.”

Me: “My daughter had a congenital heart defect; I’d prefer to get all scans.”

Doctor: “The only reason they want to diagnose in the womb is to do surgery in the womb.”

My Husband: “They needed us at a bigger hospital when she was born, in order to give her surgery.”

Me: “Can you just write the referral, please?”

Doctor: “You don’t need it, but if you insist.”

(We left the office and quickly realised he had written a referral for a twenty-week scan which the ultrasound place can’t take. I organised an appointment with another doctor who also checked my blood. She immediately pointed out that I had a UTI and should be taking antibiotics, and that I had low iron and should take a supplement.)

Being A Pill About The Pills
California, Patients, Pharmacy, Stupid, USA | Healthy | March 12, 2020
(I work in a community pharmacy. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard this story in some variation, as have my staff and coworkers in this field.)

Patient: *comes up to the counter* “Hi, I need to fill my medication.”

Clerk: “Oh, of course. Which medication did you need today?”

Patient: “I don’t know; it’s on my profile.”

(The clerk reviews the patient’s profile, which has more than 25 prescriptions dating back years.)

Clerk: “Do you know which one? There’s a bit of a list on your profile.”

(At this point, they will usually say one of two things

Patient: “I don’t know. Just fill all of them.”

(Or…)

Patient: “It’s the white pill.”

(This is where the clerk will grab one of the pharmacists.)

Pharmacist: “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t just fill everything on your profile, as we don’t know which of these medications you take or have stopped taking.”

(Also, the staff hate having to fill a dozen or more prescriptions, only for the patient to say they need one or two of them; the rest we have to put back, wasting all the time and effort we needed to fill.)

Pharmacist: “Do you know what you take it for? Diabetes? Blood pressure?”

Patient: “I don’t know. It’s the white pill.”

Pharmacist: “Most of the pills on your profile are white. Do you know how many times you take it? Was it big or small? The first letter of the name or the doctor who wrote it?”

Patient: “How am I supposed to know?! You’re the pharmacist! You should know this! IT’S A WHITE PILL! I KNOW IT’S ON THE COMPUTER!”

Pharmacist: “Sir, I need a little more information to go on than just the color. Here’s our card; you can go home, find it, and then call it in. Or bring the bottle with you next time and we can help you more.”

(The patient stomped off. Seriously, if you come to the pharmacy, please know something about what you want to pick up. The vast majority of all the pills on the shelf are white. Bring the bottle, take a picture of the bottle, write down the name. Something!)

This Doctor’s Stubbornness Runs Deep
Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Lazy/Unhelpful, Military, USA | Healthy | March 11, 2020
(Whenever I start coming down with any sort of respiratory infection, my voice gets deeper. The deeper the voice, the worse the illness is. I am stationed overseas in the nineties when a couple of coworkers notice that my voice is getting deeper. I go to Sick Call the next morning, and the corpsman, familiar with my history of pneumonia, sends me to the nearest US military hospital about 100 kilometers south to get seen by actual doctors.)

Doctor: “What brings you in today?”

Me: “I’m coming down with some sort of chest bug. Every time my voice gets deep, I get sick a few days later.”

Doctor: “What sort of symptoms are you having?”

Me: “At the moment, just the deep voice.”

Doctor: “That could mean anything. It’s probably acid reflux.”

(So far, the doctor has not examined me in any way.)

Me: “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? Sir?”

Doctor: “I’ll prescribe you an antacid for a week or so. You should also prop up the head of your bed just a bit, to help control the reflux.”

Me: “First, I’m not here for acid reflux. I’m coming down with some sort of twitching awfuls, because my voice is getting deep. When I start sounding like James Earl Jones, I always get pneumonia or bronchitis or some other chest ailment within a couple of days. Every time. Since the deep voice just started being noticeable, I’m trying to get ahead of the disease. Second, I have a waterbed. Propping up the head of the bed will have no effect.”

Doctor: *frowning* “Sure, it will work. Just put a boot under the corners of your headboard. This will raise your upper body slightly and help prevent acid reflux from irritating your larynx.”

Me: *sighing internally* “With all due respect, sir, you cannot tilt water. It always stays level.”

Doctor: “Just raise your headboard a couple of inches. You’ll see.”

Me: *sighing out loud this time* “Sir, it’s a waterbed. Here’s a demonstration: run a little bit of water into that portable basin next to the sink.” *pointing at the small metal basin*

Doctor: “Okay.” *runs water into the basin*

Me: “Now, tilt the basin up on one end.”

Doctor: *lifts one end of the basin slightly*

Me: “Notice that the water stays level, no matter how high you raise either end of the basin? That’s why raising the head of my waterbed will be less than useless.”

Doctor: “Oh. I guess you’re right. I suppose we’ll have to get you an appointment with the gastroenterology clinic to cure your reflux.”

Me: *facepalm* “Sir, I don’t have reflux. Could you please listen to my chest?”

(I was given a prescription for antacid and told to go back to work, all without the doctor conducting an examination. Three days later, I was back in the hospital as an inpatient… with pneumonia.)