22 Riskiest Places for Catching Coronavirus

Squeezing Them To See Things Your Way
IMPOSSIBLE DEMANDS, JERK, MEDICAL OFFICE, PATIENTS, USA, WASHINGTON | HEALTHY | SEPTEMBER 2, 2019
(I’m on the phone with someone who is trying to schedule an appointment they describe as urgent.)

Me: “We’re booked solid until next Friday but I can squeeze you in. It’d just be a shorter appointment.”

Patient: “What? Why?”

Me: “Because we’re full and that’s the only way I could possibly fit you in, I’m afraid.”

Patient: “That’s completely unacceptable! I don’t want to be squeezed in! I need a full appointment! Book me for your soonest appointment right now!”

Me: “Okay. Then the first day we can see you is [date two weeks from now]. Would noon work for you?”

Patient: *pause* “What does being squeezed in mean?”

You Said It, Doc!
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, JERK, MEDICAL OFFICE, USA | HEALTHY | AUGUST 31, 2019
(I have had some severe abdominal pain recently. My primary doc is unable to figure out what is going on so I am referred to a specialist. This is my first interaction with the specialist

Doctor: “So, who did you see before coming to me?”

Me: “My general practitioner.”

Doctor: “Your GP?” *he scoffs* “What a waste of time. Tell me, what sort of useless advice did he give you?”

Me: “He told me to come and see you.”

Doctor: *nervously shifts in his chair and coughs*

You Said It, Doc!
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, JERK, MEDICAL OFFICE, USA | HEALTHY | AUGUST 31, 2019
(I have had some severe abdominal pain recently. My primary doc is unable to figure out what is going on so I am referred to a specialist. This is my first interaction with the specialist

Doctor: “So, who did you see before coming to me?”

Me: “My general practitioner.”

Doctor: “Your GP?” *he scoffs* “What a waste of time. Tell me, what sort of useless advice did he give you?”

Me: “He told me to come and see you.”

Doctor: *nervously shifts in his chair and coughs*

Needs Treatment Not Treats
EDITORS' CHOICE, HEALTH & BODY, PET STORE, PETS & ANIMALS, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | AUGUST 30, 2019
(After a long day of dealing with people who are seemingly too stupid to read price tags, I am ready to go home. My manager has come over to tell me to turn off my light and go home. As I am leaving my register, a woman I’ve seen many times comes up.)

Woman: “Oh, sweetheart, I know you’re leaving but could you please help me? I’ll be quick. It’s just one question.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, I–”

Manager: “[My Name] is one of our most knowledgeable employees. She’ll be happy to help you.” *leaves*

Me: *sigh* “How can I help you?”

Woman: “Well, you see, my dog…”

(She tells me her twelve-year-old dog’s life story, ending in his inability to poop for four days.)

Woman: “So, I was wondering which of these treats would be better for him?”

Me: “Take him to the vet.”

Woman: “What?”

Me: “Take him to the vet.”

Woman: “But that’s expensive!”

Me: “Medical bills are expensive. He needs professional help.”

Woman: “You’re supposed to be the professional help! This is ridiculous! Without customers, you wouldn’t have a paycheck. Do you know that? People like me keep you employed!”

Me: “I make $9 an hour. How professional do you think my help is going to be?”

Woman: “Well, that’s not my problem.”

Me: “You refusing to spend money on your dog is not my problem, either.”

Woman: “You’re quite rude!”

Me: “Your other option is to stick your finger up your dog’s a** and dig out the s*** yourself.”

(I feel a little guilty about the last part, but I am over my time and ready to go home, so I walk away and clock out. When I leave the break room, my manager is standing at the front with the woman, who is obviously complaining about me.)

Woman: “…and you should fire her!”

Manager: “I can’t.”

Woman: “What?! Why not?”

Manager: “Today was her last day.”

(The woman sputtered a few nonsensical words before leaving. I can only hope she took my advice and took her dog to the vet. I understand that vet bills are expensive but that’s part of the deal when you’re in charge of another life.)

They’re Not Out Of The Woods Yet
HOSPITAL, OHIO, PATIENTS, RELIGION, SILLY, USA | HEALTHY | AUGUST 29, 2019
(We’re in the waiting room during our adult son’s brain surgery. A family sits near us and I hear

Family: “He’s in Jesus’s hands now.”

(I lean over to my son’s girlfriend and say

Me: “They sent a carpenter in to do a surgeon’s job.”

He Gin-uinely Tried It
FRIENDS, HEALTH & BODY, HOME, NEW YORK, NEW YORK CITY, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | AUGUST 27, 2019
(I am a student nurse, about a year from graduation. A friend of mine calls.)

Me: “Hello?”

Friend: “So, you’re a nurse, right?”

Me: “I already don’t like where this is going, and I’m a student nurse. Not–”

Friend: “Okay, well, I have some gravel deep in my hand. Can I just pour some gin on it and be fine?”

(Gin also happens to be his favorite alcohol.)

Me: “What?! Hang on; how did you get gravel in your hand and how deep is it?”

Friend: “I was on my bike and some a**hole opened their car door right in front of me and I went down pretty hard. And here, let me just take a picture.”

(He sends me a picture of his hand, showing that the gravel is dug in pretty deep and firmly stuck in so rinsing it with anything won’t get it out.)

Me: “You need to get tweezers and pull out the gravel, rinse it with water, put something like Neosporin on it, and cover it with a bandaid.”

Friend: “Well, I don’t have tweezers or any of that, really.”

Me: “You live in NYC. There’s definitely some kind of drug store or corner store you can get this stuff in.”

Friend: “I don’t want to spend money on things I already have at home, so can I just pour gin on it?”

Me: *sighs* “I cannot condone this at all but rinsing it with water is probably the best option.”

Friend: “So, gin is okay?”

Me: “If you’re intent on using alcohol, use straight vodka, instead, BUT I CANNOT CONDO–”

Friend: “Okay, thanks, bye!” *hangs up*

(He texts me a picture of his hand. He has used a prong of his watch to dig out the gravel, causing himself to bleed more and making the entire area fairly red. He texts me an hour or so later.)

Friend: “The barkeeper wouldn’t just give me some vodka, so I had to buy it and go into the bathroom to rinse it. Thanks again!”

Me: “This still was not your best option and I cannot condone this behavior.”

(He never replied.)

You Get Some Anxiety, You Get Some Anxiety, Everybody Gets Some Anxiety!
BAD BEHAVIOR, CRIMINAL & ILLEGAL, THERAPIST, USA | HEALTHY | AUGUST 26, 2019
(I go to a therapist for anxiety. For complicated reasons, I’m afraid of asking for an OCD and social anxiety diagnosis, so my partner comes with me.)

Therapist: “Okay, you are aware that I am not a couples therapist?”

Me: *nods*

Therapist: “And that [Partner] is not covered under your insurance?”

Partner: “That’s not why I’m here.”

Therapist: “Okay, well, let me just explain what we’ve been doing here.”

(She says her job description, and then talks about my anxiety. To my horror, she starts spilling every secret I ever told her, including unfair, heat-of-the-moment venting about my partner, without explaining the part after, where I acknowledged my unfairness. I start having a silent panic attack. Eventually, she stops talking.)

Partner: *without any hint of annoyance or anything negative* “I’m just here to help [My Name] ask for a referral to a psychiatrist.”

Therapist: “Sure! I can do that right away for you!”

(We leave. I am too terrified to speak. When we enter the car, my partner sighs angrily.)

Partner: “B****!”

Me: *jumps*

Partner: “Sorry, not you. Don’t worry; I tuned her out once I realized where she was going.” *pauses* “When we get your psychiatrist, do we have to go back to her?”

Me: *shakes my head no*

Partner: “Good. I can’t believe she did that. Do you want a hug?”

(We did hug and talk about the anxiety. My partner also has anxiety, and I’ve been trying to convince her to see a therapist. This… did not help.)

Drunk Up To Their Guts
ALCOHOL, BIZARRE, CALIFORNIA, NON-DIALOGUE, PETS & ANIMALS, USA, VET | HEALTHY | AUGUST 25, 2019
I work the overnight shift at an emergency vet. We get some interesting calls.

One night, I answer the phone and it is a very drunk man, slurring his words. He explains that it’s his anniversary, he and his wife have had a few bottles of wine, his cat was “faxed” yesterday, and now her guts are hanging out.

I tell him to bring her in and I give him the number of an animal-friendly cab company we recommend. Then, I go to let the doctor know what is on the way. He laughs and says it’s probably just a minor dehiscence and the subcutaneous fat is showing — quick sedation and we sew it back up and the cat will be fine. So, the tech starts prepping the surgical room while we wait.

The phone rings again. It’s a drunk woman, who explains that it’s her anniversary, she and her husband have had a few bottles of wine, their cat was “spaded” yesterday, and now her guts are hanging out.

I give the exact same instructions I gave the man and go tell the doctor that the same cat is coming in twice. We all laugh at how Mister either didn’t tell Missus he had called or they were so drunk they forgot he had called.

About half an hour later. a cab pulls up and the driver brings in a cat carrier, warns me that the passengers are totally wasted, and then helps them stagger inside. The tech takes the cat out of the box and the doctor was right; it was just a minor dehiscence with exposed fat.

While the doctor is explaining what we want to do and how much it will cost and getting approval, a second cab pulls up.

These owners are significantly less drunk; I’m still glad they didn’t drive, but they can carry the cat in on their own. The tech is busy prepping the first cat, so I take them to an exam room, take the cat out of the box and… Oh, my God, that’s a liver! This cat ripped out all her sutures and there are intestines just hanging out of her body.

The second cat gets into surgery first, both sets of owners have a fun conversation in the lobby while they wait, both cats make a full recovery, and we all learn that not all drunks are exaggerating. We also have a lot of fun wording the notes to send to the cats’ usual veterinarian, trying to diplomatically tell them to adjust the way they tie their knots without outright blaming them for what happened — both cats had been allowed, against doctor’s orders, to climb up to the top of a bookcase and jump down.

This Clinic Provides A Terrible Cervix
CANADA, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, EDITORS' CHOICE, MEDICAL OFFICE, NON-DIALOGUE, STUDENTS | HEALTHY | AUGUST 23, 2019
While I was a student, it was fairly common to have student doctors learning at the campus clinic. I was getting my routine pap and was asked if I minded having a student do it, with the actual doctor supervising. When it comes to medical stuff I have no shame and have had positive experiences with student doctors in the past — they actually take a history, for one thing! I imagine a lot of people aren’t okay with students doing their pap. though, so all the more reason for me to let them practice.

So, I said I didn’t mind at all, the student introduced herself, and I got in position. She did fine with doing the physical exam and had no problem inserting the speculum. But then came time to swab my cervix. She was looking more and more stressed, and I reassured her she was doing fine and to take her time. A few more moments passed and she was still looking. I remember an offhand comment one of my previous doctors said — that my cervix is a bit off to the side — so I passed that hint along.

“I can’t find it! I can’t find the cervix!” she finally cried.

“I promise you it’s there! Keep looking!” I tried to reassure. Meanwhile, the actual doctor was clearly having issues keeping a straight face. I was still laying there spread eagle, still trying to comfort the professional poking around my lady bits.

The actual doctor took over, and my cervix is indeed off to the side. The student sat back down and the doctor gave her directions to my cervix. She finally found it and got the swab. Good thing, too, because I was also having a hard time keeping my laughter in.

After telling my friends the story of my “lost” cervix, one replied, “But… it’s not like it could get very far!”

Language Is Fluid
ALCOHOL, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, HOSPITAL, JERK, SWEDEN, WORDPLAY | HEALTHY | AUGUST 20, 2019
Some years ago I had gastric bypass surgery. During the aftercare, I had appointments with a dietician at the hospital where I had the surgery. As a preparation for these visits, I had to fill out an inquiry. One of the questions regarded alcohol.

Did I drink less alcohol than before the surgery, the same or more?

Well, that looks like a straightforward question, but I couldn’t answer it truthfully. Because I do not drink, and is no alcohol the same or less? It can’t be more, but is it the same or less? The same implies some alcohol consumption, as does less.

I added an extra line to the inquiry and simply stated that I do not drink alcohol. Ever.

The dietician went nuts. She berated me for 50 minutes for “my excessive alcohol consumption” as I hadn’t picked the only acceptable answer — less. “None” wasn’t a viable answer as it wasn’t included in the inquiry. I asked her to add to my chart that I do not drink. I asked if we could please continue with discussing my diet as I do not drink. She had worked herself into a frenzy and just kept screaming. Wonderful to travel six hours for a useless meeting with someone not listening at all.

Anyway, the next meeting was six months later, with another dietician. And the same inquiry to prepare. Once again, I answered that I never drink.

This dietician was even more aggressive. She rushed out during the meeting to get a colleague so they could scream at me together. While she was out I grabbed a paper and wrote on it in big letters, “I NEVER DRINK ALCOHOL.”

It didn’t help. They still couldn’t grasp that it is possible to not consume alcohol. I asked them to test my blood alcohol level and do whatever testing they wanted as my liver should be in prime condition. Because I did not f****** drink alcohol. And I still don’t.

Maybe I just should have picked the option of “drinking less” on the inquiry, but… I’m a language teacher. Nuances are important. “Less” is not the same as “none” or “nothing.”

Kids Can Be An Earful
CANADA, CHILDREN, HOSPITAL, PATIENTS, STUPID, TORONTO | HEALTHY | AUGUST 18, 2019
(A mother and her eight-year-old come into the clinic. She says the kid was using the end of a pencil to scratch his ear the previous day and the eraser came off and he accidentally pushed it in while trying to get it out. She can’t get it with tweezers. I flush the ear to remove the eraser and notice a few things.)

Me: “There are clear signs of a swimmer’s ear infection. Fluid has been trapped behind that eraser for a lot longer than a few hours. The eraser would also not nearly be this… encrusted… after such a short time.”

Mother: “[Son] only told me about it yesterday. He said it had just happened. [Son], when did the eraser get stuck in your ear?”

(We both eye the child. He fidgets for a few moments before…)

Son: “Christmas break.”

(This is in MARCH!)

Mother: “What?! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Son: *defiantly* “Well, it only hurt if I touched it and I don’t sleep on that side!”

(Kid logic is my job security.)

I’m Planning On Spraining My Ankle Next Tuesday
LUXEMBOURG, MEDICAL OFFICE, RECEPTION, STUPID | HEALTHY | AUGUST 14, 2019
(While building my own home, I have a little mishap and cut my left thumb deeply. I quickly disinfect the wound, apply a pressure bandage, and drive over to my family doctor’s practice to get some stitches.)

Me: *sliding over my social security card* “Hi, I cut myself badly.”

Desk Clerk: “Do you have an appointment?”

Me: “Sorry, no, I didn’t plan it in advance!”

That Attitude Doesn’t Have A Leg To Stand On
HOSPITAL, JERK, NURSES, UK | HEALTHY | AUGUST 10, 2019
(I am in intensive care recovering from surgery and infection. A nurse is doing her rounds when I ask her if she could pass me the lunch menu, as it was left on a table out of my reach.)

Nurse: “No.”

Me: “Sorry?”

Nurse: “People always think we’re their personal slaves, demanding this and that. The nurses agreed we wouldn’t be tolerating it anymore. You’ve got two legs; you can walk. Get it yourself.”

(I stare at her, confused, and lift my bedsheets revealing my lower half. The nurse’s face drains as she stares at my one remaining leg; I had the other removed two days ago.)

Me: “Believe me, I wish I could…”

(Instead of handing me the menu, she bolted for the door, leaving me to wriggle around for a bit and eventually letting a woman who had just had triple heart bypass surgery get it for me. I never saw the nurse again, but as I left I saw my name on the ward list being wiped off, with “LEG AMPUTATION” in big capital letters.)

Worse Than Having Teeth Pulled
BAD BEHAVIOR, DENTIST, GERMANY | HEALTHY | AUGUST 9, 2019
(When I was a teenager I had braces. During a holiday, I slipped on a playground and hit a wooden log with my upper front teeth. Because of that, my teeth decided almost ten years later that they didn’t like that; inflammations in the upper jaw were the outcome. Because I am now only in my late twenties, my dentist has tried everything he could so I won’t have to get implant teeth. At the beginning of this year, I had yet another inflammation and his daughter, who took over his office, didn’t feel like she could help me and send me to a specialist a town over. It is kind of important to mention that I live a two-hour train ride away from both dentist offices and go there by train. I do have a dentist in the city where I live but haven’t yet decided how much I can trust him so I mostly have gone there for check-ups and minor issues. This is the first appointment to decide on the treatment and everything related. They make a set of x-rays and I talk to the doctor afterward.)

Dentist: “So, I can see from your history that this is the eighth time you’ll have root canal treatment. Don’t you think you should just get them pulled?”

Me: “Oh, well, I’m really hoping that this is the last time. Because it’s two front teeth, I’d really like to try one more time.”

Dentist: “All right, then, I’ll try to do it. Please speak to the nurse about a date and time, the medication you’re used to, and if you need a certificate for your job that you’re ill and need to stay home. We will try an open healing. You won’t get stitches but a small piece of gauze which will cover the wound. You need to have that changed every three days, which your usual dentist can do.” *leaves*

(I set an appointment and specify which painkillers I usually get prescribed and that I need a certification to prove I am unable to work. Two weeks later is appointment day. I wait an hour and a half in the treatment room before I am finally seen. I don’t say anything because I know it can be busy and I am nervous. The dentist enters the room.)

Dentist: “Good morning!”

(Without another word, he takes the syringe with the local anaesthesia and proceeds to literally ram it into my jaw several times, hitting two nerves along the way. I start crying really hard because it hurts so much, not only because he hit the nerves but also because the area is really sensitive because of all the former scar tissue.)

Dentist: *annoyed* “Ms. [My Name], don’t you think it would have been better if you had a full anaesthesia if you’re already crying so hard?”

(He leaves the room sighing while I try to catch my breath despite the pain I’m in. The nurse shoots me an apologetic look and hands me a handkerchief. The rest of the treatment goes fairly well until it’s time for the gauze thingy to be put over the wound. I have called the dentist in the city where I live and they said they’d do the wound care.)

Dentist: “So, we’re almost done. No need to cry. What do you think? As for the gauze, you’ll need to come in three days to have us change it.”

Me: “But you said I’d be able to let my dentist at home do this.”

Dentist: *in the most condescending tone* “Well, [My Name], you surely realize that we will have to take a look at the wound.”

Me: “No. I told you I live a two-hour train ride away. I am not going to sit in a train for four hours just to have a fifteen-minute appointment.”

Dentist: “Well, if that’s the case, and you’re unwilling to do everything it takes to ensure proper healing, I’ve no other way to help you.” *proceeds to stitch the wound together* “With that, you can come back in two weeks and I promise you that it’ll take more than fifteen minutes.”

(He leaves before I can say anything else.)

Nurse: “Well, here you go. Here’s your prescription for painkillers.”

Me: “But that’s not what I asked for. I can get those cheaper without a prescription. I asked for something stronger because at this point, after so many treatments, I really know the pain and what helps and what doesn’t!”

(The nurse leaves to speak to the dentist. When she comes back in

Nurse: “The doctor said you won’t need anything stronger; the treatment does not justify that. Take it or leave it.”

Me: “Then it’s cheaper for me to buy them over the counter. Thanks, but no thanks.”

(I am about to leave when she stops me.)

Nurse: “What do you think you’re doing? You have to wait another thirty minutes to make sure you won’t faint or something.”

Me: “I am really sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable staying here for half an hour. The whole appointment went different from what we decided on and I don’t feel like seeing anyone of you ever again. I don’t want to be rude, but this whole ordeal was an awful experience.”

(She looked annoyed and made me sign a form stating I left against their advice. Because of that “treatment,” I was in pain for four weeks which I’d never had before. It also didn’t stop the inflammations. I am currently sitting at the dentist in my hometown to have both teeth pulled.)

Here Comes The Needle Aeroplane!
BELGIUM, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, MEDICAL OFFICE | HEALTHY | AUGUST 8, 2019
(I’m travelling to a faraway place and need to get a few recommended vaccinations. I registered with a local GP after moving, but didn’t go before, since I’m a pretty healthy person and never really needed a reason. Note: our health service recommends getting regular pap smears at age 25. I’m a bit older than that, and just never got around to doing so. On the day of this appointment, I’m wearing jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers. The doctor gets ready to give me my injections.)

Doctor: “All right, little lady, here comes the needle! Prick!”

(I don’t look my age but I definitely don’t look as young as whoever she’s talking to.)

Doctor: “And now for a little bandaid… There we go!”

(I look at my arm, half expecting a glitter or cartoon character bandaid. The doctor asks me if there is anything else I need.)

Me: “Well, I think I should have been getting regular pap smears for a while, but never got around to it. Can I just have that done here?”

Doctor: “Oooh, there’s no need for that yet, you’re only…” *looks at my file* “Oh. Okay. Yes, you can just make an appointment with us and we’ll take care of it.”

(She’s still my GP and never talked to me like that again, but I’m wondering how old she thought I was!)

Birthday Shots!
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, IDAHO, JERK, MEDICAL OFFICE, USA | HEALTHY | AUGUST 7, 2019
(When my son is three I let him know that I have no choice but to schedule his next doctor’s appointment on his fourth birthday. Although he’s not a fan of doctors, I swear to him that he’ll not be required to get any shots. Even if the doctor says he has to, I tell him that I’m his mother and, in this case, they have to listen to me if I say no. He thinks this sounds like a fair deal and agrees to be on his best behavior. A couple of months go by before we have his appointment. I make sure to reiterate that he won’t be getting shots regardless of what anyone says. He understands and, like any other kid, is excited to turn four so he’s focused on telling every single person he encounters, including the doctor, that it’s his birthday. The appointment goes smoothly until the end.)

Doctor: *cheerfully* “Okay! Everything checks out! He just needs a few shots, and then he can be on his way. Let me go get the nurse.”

(Before she can stand up, I quickly put my hand up.)

Me: “Wait, wait, wait. When I scheduled his appointment a couple of months ago they said he didn’t need any. What happened? Why the change?”

Doctor: *frowning* “I’m not sure. You’ll have to discuss that with the nurse. Let me go get her.”

Me: *shaking my head* “No, don’t bother. I told him he wouldn’t have to get shots today. We’ll just come back a different day.”

Doctor: *insistently* “He has to get his shots.”

Me: “Uh, yeah, I got that. But, uh, you can’t really stab someone on their birthday.” *laughs* “That’s a little cold-blooded, don’t you think?”

(I laugh again, mostly to diffuse the situation, but this lady is not having it.)

Doctor: *even more insistent* “He has to get his shots!”

Me: *frustrated* “Yeah, I know that but–“

Doctor: *cutting me off and shrieking* “He cannot enter kindergarten if he does not get his shots!”

(Please keep in mind that based on when my son’s birthday is and when the school year starts, I have over a year to get him in for these oh-so-important shots. I don’t say this, though. Instead, I take a deep breath and pinch my nose because this lady is clearly crazy. Then, before I even get a chance to say another word, my son, who has been sitting quietly next to her this entire time, leans over and looks right at her.)

Son: “Uh, excuse me?!”

(Startled, the doctor turns and looks at him.)

Son: “My mommy says I do not have to get shots today!” *a bit too loudly and rather forcefully* “IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!”

(The doctor stares in open-mouthed shock, looking back and forth between my son and me for a few moments. I take that opportunity to pick up my son.)

Me: *politely* “As I said, he’s not getting his shots today. We’ll come back later.”

Doctor: *looking like she’s sucked on a lemon* “Well, I’ll just put that in his file, then.”

(I took my son and left. Although he did get a small lesson in how to assert himself with a little less force, I could not help but commend him for sticking up for himself. And for those that are concerned, yes, he did get his shots.)

Surgery For Dummies
FRIENDS, HEALTH & BODY, HOME, MICHIGAN, SILLY, USA | HEALTHY | AUGUST 6, 2019
(I have a strange sense of humor and enjoy talking about ordinary events in outlandish ways. I am texting a good friend of mine who shares my sense of humor and regularly exchanges joking threats with me. She also happens to be the daughter of a nurse. I am in no way a healthcare professional.)

Me: “Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you something. I performed gastric surgery today!”

Friend: “Oh…”

Me: “I’ve been meaning to get around to it for a while, but there was never a time when I could do it. Well, I did it today and the patient was just fine. Didn’t even want anesthetic.”

Friend: “I… I’m curious but scared.”

Me: “Here she is!” *sends a picture of a stuffed dog*

(The stuffed dog in question is very precious to me and sustained a long rip along a seam running down its stomach. I have sewn it up before the inner netting can break, too, and spill plastic pellets everywhere.)

Friend: “Holy crap, I was terrified, [My Name]!”

Me: *laughing way too hard*

Friend: “We’re gonna get that freaking cosplay blade we were talking about earlier and I’m going to find a way to stab you with it.”

(I was not stabbed.)

Bowel Moved To Action
HOSPITAL, PATIENTS, STUPID, USA, VIRGINIA | HEALTHY | AUGUST 4, 2019
(I am a junior volunteer at my local hospital with a decent amount of medical knowledge for my age stationed in the emergency room. As I am a freshly graduated high school student — and most volunteers are around my age — we aren’t really allowed to do much but answer call bells, put together blood draw tube sets, enter data, and, in my case, monitor the heart rate screen and alert nurses to abnormal changes. But this isn’t a story about an abnormal heart rate; this is a story of a complete doofus. I am coming back to Central from being over on North — two of the four sections of my ER — when I overhear this gem of a conversation.)

Doctor: *to a patient’s nurse* “We had [Patient] come in complaining of abdominal pain about an hour ago. [Hospital he was transferred from] suspects a small bowel obstruction, but he can’t think of anything to have caused it and said he was experiencing other symptoms.”

Nurse: “Was it?”

Doctor: “Well, considering his last meal was an entire jar of pickles and an extra-large bag of [Popcorn Brand], take a guess.”

(Spoiler alert, it was. Still my favorite story to date. I have no idea why that man thought it was a good idea to eat that in one sitting, and even less of an idea why he couldn’t figure out why he was feeling so bad.)

Just Go And Sleep It Off
BAD BEHAVIOR, DALLAS, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, MEDICAL OFFICE, TEXAS, USA | HEALTHY | AUGUST 1, 2019
(I’ve had problems sleeping most of my life. I’ve mentioned this to doctors before, but I have always been told it is stress and/or that I’ll grow out of it by the time I am 20. I finally go to a new doctor at age 23 to try to get a sleep study to find out if there’s an underlying issue, and I decide before going in that I am not taking no for an answer, collecting everything I can to back my case up. This is my exchange with the doctor.)

Me: “I’ve hardly had what constitutes a ‘good night’s sleep’ in ten years. It takes me two hours to fall asleep at night, regardless of what time I go to sleep, but during the daytime, I can fall asleep within minutes.”

Doctor: “Well, maybe if you didn’t take naps, you wouldn’t have a problem. Why don’t you try that?”

Me: “I have, actually. I’ve done tests on myself using a sleep tracking app and trying two-month test periods of going all day every day without a nap, and then again taking a thirty-minute nap each day. There’s next to no change in the nighttime data, and my self-rating of how I feel after I wake up is the same, too. I’ve repeated this for the past year with variables like listening to music and using a weighted blanket with the same results.”

(I show him the graphs I’ve made from my data.)

Me: “Not to mention, I hardly spend any time in deep sleep. It’s all light.”

Doctor: “Well, sleep tracking apps can be very unreliable. You shouldn’t trust it just because it’s on your phone. Even though it says you’re in light sleep, you might be getting deep sleep.”

Me: “I know it’s not 100% accurate, but it still shows approximately when I fall asleep, and it’s never less an hour and a half, and that’s on my best nights.”

Doctor: “That’s normal! You’ll grow out of it!”

Me: “But when? I can’t wait until my 30s to ‘grow out of it.’ It’s affecting both my work and home lives. I can barely get any housework done on the weekends or after work because I’m too tired, I sleep through holidays with my family, and I have to call into work at least once a month due to exhaustion. Just last week, I was pulled over because a cop saw me nodding off at a red light.”

Doctor: “Just get some melatonin and you’ll fall asleep in no time. And if that doesn’t work, try valerian!”

Me: “I have. Both of them. There’s no effect on how long it takes me to get to sleep or how I feel when I wake up. If anything, I feel worse in the mornings after I take them. I really think I need a sleep study to figure out if there’s something wrong with me. I’ve literally broken down crying because I was so tired before.”

Doctor: “Are you sure it isn’t just PMS?”

(We go back and forth like this for almost fifteen minutes, him suggesting ideas and me telling him I’ve already done it and recorded my data — all of which I’ve already mentioned to the nurse and on my new patient forms. I’m growing frustrated and, thanks in part to the continuing exhaustion, nearly start crying again under his line of questioning. Finally, I’ve had enough.)

Me: “I am not leaving this office until you set me up with a neurologist for a sleep study. I have a family history of sleep apnea, and I need answers.”

Doctor: “So, you want drugs, that’s it. You’re too young and skinny to have sleep apnea.”

Me: “What? Sleep studies don’t even involve drugs! I am literally getting less than five hours of sleep a night; that should be reason enough for me to get a sleep study right there!”

Doctor: “I don’t work with people hunting for drugs.”

Me: “And I don’t work with f****** crackpots who don’t listen to their patients!”

(I stormed out without paying and reported him to my insurance, and I have an appointment with a new doctor this Friday. Hopefully, this one will actually listen to me.)

Prejudice Is In Her Blood
BIGOTRY, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, MEDICAL OFFICE, USA, UTAH | HEALTHY | JULY 29, 2019
(I just found out that my fiancé of five years has been cheating on me for three of those years. To be safe, I make an appointment to have a full STI panel done. The only appointment I can get is with the physician’s assistant and not my usual doctor.)

PA: “Okay, dear, I’m just going to give you the swab and let you take the sample.”

Me: “You aren’t going to do it? I don’t know what to do.”

(She explains how to take a culture and leaves the room to give me privacy. When I finish, she collects the swab and begins to leave again.)

PA: “Okay, we should get results in about a week and we’ll call you.”

Me: “Aren’t you going to take my blood, as well, for HIV and syphilis testing?”

PA: *laughs* “Oh, you only have to worry about that if you’re gay.”

Me: “You know what, I’ll just go and make an appointment with the actual doctor.”

(That was the second issue I had with her, and the last time I ever saw her working there.)