Holistic Medicine and the Western Medical Tradition
 

Sneha Mantri

The Western medical tradition spans millennia, extending from the prehistoric use of plants and herbs to heal wounds through the technological advances of the present day. Over that long history, the practice of medicine shifted from prescientific holistic approaches to modern, scientifically supported explanations of pathology. As the practice of medicine became more thoroughly grounded in science, which seeks unified explanations for diseases, many feared the loss of individuality, both for the patient and the physician [1, 2]. Thus it is relevant for modern practice to examine the social and historical forces behind medicine's paradigm shift and what that shift means for the 21st-century patient-physician encounter.

In the early days of medicine, physical manifestations of illness were almost always explained in spiritual terms. In a world where the deities were believed to affect mortals directly, seizures, for instance, were thought to be the result of having angered the gods [3]. In 400 BCE, Hippocrates, often lauded as the father of Western medicine, proposed a new schema in which natural—not supernatural—explanations of illness were sought. (It should be noted that the Hippocratic writings were probably not the work of a single physician but of a group of like-minded practitioners now referred to as "the Hippocratic physicians.") The Hippocratic treatise On the Sacred Disease, opens with: "[epilepsy] appears to me to be nowise more divine nor more sacred than other diseases, but has a natural cause from which it originates like other affections" [4].

This radical approach to medicine was not immediately accepted by peers of the Hippocratic movement. According to medical historian Lawrence Conrad, the pluralism of ancient Greek medicine meant that "healers, both male and female, competed with root-cutters, exorcists, midwives, bone-setters, lithotomists, gymnasts, and surgeons for patients" [5]. Although Hippocratic medicine began as one of many approaches to human illness, the structure of medical education in medieval and early modern Europe encouraged its dominance.

Hippocratic physicians were unable to study anatomy and physiology directly in the human body because dissection of human cadavers was forbidden on religious grounds. Instead, they relied primarily on logic and philosophy to explain disease. The central tenet of the theory was the belief that illness resulted from imbalances among the humors—blood, black bile, yellow bile, and phlegm. The physician's role was to diagnose the problem and tell patients how to restore their humoral balance and thus heal themselves.

Centuries later, Galen, a Roman anatomist who studied pigs, associated each humor with a personality. Certain temperaments were considered to be predisposed to illnesses of their humoral type, especially if the illness seemed to be triggered by emotional shock. Hippocratic-Galenic medicine was integrative, proposing a synergistic and individual relationship between each patient's body, mind, and personality and the outside world. For hundreds of years, this doctrine stood as the basis of Western medicine.

The seeds of change were planted as early as the 1500s when Andreas Vesalius, a Belgian physician, began teaching his students via direct animal dissection rather than by study of Galen's work. In 1539, an Italian judge gave Vesalius dispensation to dissect executed criminals, which changed the study of anatomy forever. Suddenly, structures that were previously only imagined could be visualized, handled, and sliced open to reveal hints of their living function. With the development of scientific, empirical study of human anatomy, the body-mind-personality connection that was so fundamental to Hippocratic-Galenic medicine was rapidly abandoned. As early as 1628, with the publication of William Harvey's explanation for the circulation of blood through a closed system by the pumping of the heart [6], physicians were beginning to view human physiology as the mechanized interaction of organs.

Simultaneously, growth in medical technology spurred the development of pathologic or morbid anatomy. In 1664, Englishman Robert Hooke published Micrographia, which revolutionized biology by using the microscope to view cells, a term coined by Hooke himself. Microscopy spread across Europe as a tool to study not just simple organisms but also the disease process. Together, gross and microscopic anatomy changed the ideology of medical discourse from philosophical to scientific. The definitive transformation of clinical medicine into a science based on pathologic anatomy came with Giovanni Battista Morgagni's 1761 publication of a five-volume tome De Sedibus et causis morborum ("On the Seats and Causes of Disease"). This catalog of diseases connected etiology to specific anatomical "seats" or locations.

The impact of technology and pathologic anatomy on medical practice had two major foci. First, its scientifically grounded explanations sparked an era of experiment-based medical progress that continues today. Armed with specialized knowledge about human anatomy and pathophysiology, the physician could at last take an active role in treating disease. Second, and more problematically, the voice of the patient, which had been so central to the Hippocratic doctrine, was silenced by the growing medicoscientific dialogue in which the uninitiated patient was unable to take part. In essence, power over the body had been transferred from the patient to the physician.

French philosopher Michel Foucault argues that the dominance of pathologic anatomy "dates precisely from the moment clinical experience became the anatomo-clinical gaze" [7]. For Foucault, the objectification of the patient is ethically problematic, a view by no means universal until the mid-20th century, if then. In fact, physicians of the 19th century considered the newly scientific basis of medicine "the ethical high ground" [8] and a moral imperative to their patients. French physician Xavier Bichat, writing in 1812, asked "What is observation, if we are ignorant of the place where the evil is seated?" [9]. Only by understanding the science of medicine, early modern physicians argued, would physicians be of service to their patients.

This view persisted through the 19th century. George Weisz, a historian of Victorian medicine, attributes the rise of specialties to "a new conception of disease; it was precisely the influence of localist pathologist thinking, based on pathological anatomy and subsequently on new technologies...that created 'foci of interest' in organ systems around which specialties could develop" [10]. Although it allowed for a deeper exploration of individual pathologies, the resultant division of the human body into disconnected pieces further eroded the integrative fundamental tenet that had sustained Western medicine for more than 2 millennia. The explosion of specialization was by no means unopposed; several 19 th- century physicians called for a return to Hippocratic integration, arguing that the new trend would "fragment medical science" [11] and ultimately hinder medical progress. Despite such opposition, specialization became an integral part of the modern, scientific practice of medicine. By 1905, 35 percent of Parisian doctors were specialists [12]. Pathologic anatomy would seem to have won its quest to universalize disease processes and divide the body into separate, barely connected domains.
https://i.imgur.com/ThH0LFD.jpg

In recent years Western medicine has consciously tried to integrate its ancient, patient-centered roots with modern scientific validity. In the late 20th century, with the rise of illness narratives by authors such as Susan Sontag, Reynolds Price, and Audre Lorde, patients began to reclaim their voices and therefore power over their bodies. The patient rights movement, borrowing from the concurrent civil rights and feminist movements, argued that the patient should be an equal partner with the physician in medical care. In response to these and other pressures to restore patient-centered medicine, medical schools began to revisit holistic medicine. Although evidence-based medicine remains an important part of medical education—123 of the 125 Association of American Medical Colleges schools required students to take at least one such course in the 2004-2005 academic year [13]—most medical students now also study complementary or alternative medicine (111 schools), medical ethics (124 schools), and population-based medicine (113 schools). Medical students of the 21st century therefore inherit from both the Hippocratic and the pathologic schools of thought.

The history of Western medicine chronicles a struggle between two opposing ideologies of patient care. On one hand, the integrative Hippocratic view; on the other, the specialization view, with an ethically problematic depersonalization of the patient that coincides with the rise of pathologic anatomy and medical technology in the early modern era. Although the modern dominance of pathologic anatomy has yielded centuries of medical progress, at times it threatens to divide and reduce the patient to a silent sum of mechanistic parts. Recent changes in medical education have begun to address the need for holistic medical care. Only with careful attention to both the individuality of illness and the universality of disease etiology can physicians most effectively care for their patients

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.)

Green With Envy Over Your Ability To See Color
ART/DESIGN, COWORKERS, HEALTH & BODY, RETAIL, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 10, 2020
(I know my coworker and his wife pretty well — I went to their wedding — and they’re often in the store either helping with or participating in events when they aren’t working. They’ve finished both of their events this day and are going past the counter to leave, and they walk by me. I overhear their discussion, and they rope me in.)

Coworker: “It’s brown!”

Coworker’s Wife: “It is not! [My Name], what’s the color of my shirt?”

(Because she is wearing a BRIGHT RED JACKET, it’s pretty obvious what color the shirt is; however, if you just glanced at it, it might be misconstrued as brown.)

Me: “Uh, it’s green?”

Coworker: “Is it? But it’s brown!”

Me: *peering at it* “No, it’s green; it’s a dark green.”

Coworker’s Wife: “It’s emerald green.”

Coworker: “Well, it had better not be olive green, because that’s a color that doesn’t exist.”

Me: “But… What?”

Coworker’s Wife: “What color are [My Name]’s bracelets?”

(On my wrists are a paracord bracelet and a FitBit band, respectively.)

Coworker: “Well, I know that one is bright green and purple, and that one is… well, I dunno.”

Me: “[Coworker], it’s green. You’re colorblind.”

(I guess you learn something new every day — and this came as a bit of a shock to him, too!)

Paging Doctor Cymbeline
AUSTRALIA, FUNNY NAMES, HOSPITAL, WORDPLAY | HEALTHY | MARCH 9, 2020
(I work on the switchboard for a major hospital. We take a lot of calls, have a lot of options to put callers to, and are, unfortunately, very used to callers giving us very little information so we have to guess the rest.)

Me: “Good afternoon, switchboard.”

Internal Caller: “Yeah, can I speak to Imogen?”

Me: “Imogen who?”

Internal Caller: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Uh, okay. Do you know what Imogen does or what department she works in?”

Internal Caller: “I don’t know; the doctor just wants a copy of an X-ray.”

Me: *light-bulb moment* “OH! You want to speak to imaging!”

The Most Relatable Toddler
ADORABLE CHILDREN, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, MEDICAL OFFICE, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 8, 2020
(On the morning of my son’s two-year-old “well-child” checkup, he wakes up unusually grumpy. Shockingly, the news that he has to go to see the pediatrician does not improve his mood, so in an effort to get him to stop whining in the back of the car, I make an absolute rookie mistake. I promise him that after his appointment, I will take him on a trip to his favorite place. I then discover that I have the kind of two-year-old who neither understands nor accepts the concept of “after,” and as such, the following interaction happens at least six times in the next 45 minutes:)

Son: *wordlessly bawling at the top of his lungs*

Nurse: “Oh, no, what’s the matter?”

Son: “I WANT TO GO TO TARGET.”

Nurse: “Me, too, honey. Me, too.”

(At least he did not scream at the doctor. Instead, he gently wept and whispered, “Please. Target.”)

A Would-Be Thief Has His Eyes Opened
CRIMINAL & ILLEGAL, MEDICAL OFFICE, OPTOMETRIST/OPTICIAN, SOUTH CAROLINA, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 7, 2020
(I work with patients at an eye specialist, checking vision and administering eye drops. One day, one of my newer coworkers comes to me about a patient.)

Coworker: “He’s complaining about his eye being sore, but he’s asking way too many questions about [expensive temporary numbing agent for office use only].”

(I trust his judgment, so I ask another technician to casually restock something in the exam room where the patient is waiting for the doctor and take the numbing drop with him when he’s done. Not ten minutes later, when the doctor goes to see him…)

Patient: “Hey, Doc, why can’t you give me some more of those numbing drops?”

Doctor: “Because too much is toxic for your eyes. A patient stole a bottle years ago and used it non-stop for days; it really damaged their eye.”

Patient: “Good thing you said that, Doc, because I was planning on stealing that bottle!”

(He said this without any embarrassment whatsoever! I only hope he learned not to mess around with that sort of thing.)

A Very Expensive Taxi
EMERGENCY SERVICES, LIARS/SCAMMERS, NEW JERSEY, PARTY, USA, WEATHER | HEALTHY | MARCH 6, 2020
(I worked in volunteer emergency medical services for years. Without charge to anyone, a person would call 911, which would then send me and a crew with an ambulance to provide emergency medical care and transportation to the hospital. Unfortunately, our experience was that during a blizzard, some people would call 911 with a fake medical emergency and then decline transportation to the hospital. This was done because they had learned that a snowplow would be dispatched in front of our ambulance to make sure we had a clear route to the house in question. This way, the person would have their street plowed before others. The request of the woman in this story, however, blows my mind. We arrive at the location following the snowplow that is clearing 18 inches of snow on the road. I trudge up to the door and ring the bell. A young woman with an alcoholic drink in her hand answers. There is loud music playing. This is obviously a “blizzard party.”)

Me: “[Town] EMS, who is having the emergency?”

Woman: “Yes, that’s me. Um, I have diabetes.”

(I know that anyone with diabetes should not be drinking an alcoholic beverage.)

Me: “Okay, let’s sit down and check your blood sugar. Are you feeling badly?”

Woman: “Oh, no, I don’t need anything like that. I already checked my blood sugar. It’s [number that’s a bit high, but not an emergency]. I need my insulin from my house in [Next Town Over]. I was wondering if you’d drive me to get it?”

Me: “Ma’am, we are an ambulance for medical emergencies. We cannot transport you from one house to another. The policeman over here, however, most likely will.”

Woman: “Oh, that’s great. But, um, after I get my insulin, could he bring me back here to the party? I’m having such a great time!”

(I just facepalmed. The policeman did give her a ride home to her insulin… but not back to the party.)

Science Flu Right Over Their Head
HOSPITAL, ILLINOIS, MATH & SCIENCE, PATIENTS, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 6, 2020
Nurse: *to a patient* “Do you want a flu shot while you’re here?”

Patient: “No, I don’t get flu shots.”

Nurse: “Oh. Have you had an adverse reaction to them?”

Patient: “No. Vaccines cause cancer. I know that because I’ve been to Japan. People there aren’t vaccinated, and no one gets cancer in Japan.

To Censor Or Not To Censor: The Editors’ Dilemma
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, NON-DIALOGUE, PENNSYLVANIA, PUNNY, SILLY, USA, VET | HEALTHY | MARCH 5, 2020
Our English Setter has had surgery to repair an ACL injury. She chews on her stitches and manages to pop one. We load her in the car to make the 45-minute drive to the vet, calling ahead to make sure they know we’re coming, as we know we’ll be pushing closing time for them.

We get there a few minutes before close and our vet comes into the waiting room to greet us. He picks up our girl and proclaims dramatically, “What did you do that for, you b****?!”

His vet tech (and we) totally lost it.

And he replaced the stitches with staples for us!

Nancy The Needler Strikes Again!
BLOOD DONATION, JERK, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 4, 2020
(While I am very squeamish about needles, I like to give blood often because I am a universal donor. I have family that have needed transfusions, so I like to donate in honor of the people who have helped them. Volunteers are usually very nice and ease my needle anxiety throughout the process. Not this time, though.)

Volunteer: “Lay down here.”

Me: “Okay. Just so you know, I’m kind of scared of needles. It would really help if you could just count down before you prick me.”

Volunteer: “No. I’m not doing that. Lay down.”

Me: *getting nervous now* “Wait. Why can’t you just count down to let me know when you’re putting the needle in?”

Volunteer: “You’re a big girl; suck it up.”

(She grabs my arm and quickly uses a wipe to disinfect the area. I’m a wreck, so I jump when she does this, even though I’m not in pain. I’m just so anxious about this needle now.)

Volunteer: “You can’t jump like that when I put the needle in! I’ll have to do it over if you jump like that!”

Me: “I won’t jump if you just count down or let me know when you’re putting it in!”

(I’m shaking at this point and close to hyperventilating.)

Volunteer: “What’s the point of giving blood if you’re going to be so jumpy?!”

(Eventually, I calm down enough for her to prick my arm quickly. A few months later, I’m giving blood again and am relaying this story to another volunteer, who was kind enough to count down before putting the needle in.)

Nice Volunteer: “Was she skinny, tall, dark hair…?”

Me: “Yes! That was her!”

Nice Volunteer: “Oh, that was Nancy. We got a lot of complaints about her. She doesn’t come to blood drives anymore”

(Thankfully, I never saw her again.)

We’ve Heard Of Child Soldiers, But That’s Ridiculous
BLOOD DONATION, COLLEGE & UNIVERSITY, STRANGERS, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 3, 2020
(It’s circa 2009 and there is a blood drive going on at our school. I am sitting with a worker, doing the health screening questionnaire to rule out anything that would disqualify my blood. There are some questions that definitely shouldn’t apply, such as whether or not I’ve been in various parts of the world a decade before I was born, but I understand they need to be asked. Then, we get here:)

Worker: “Between 1988 and 1995, were you in the military or the dependent of someone in the military?”

Me: “Yes.”

(There’s a long pause.)

Worker: “So… you were a dependent?”

Me: *pause* “Yes.”

(Granted, I could have been more specific. But given that this blood drive was being held at a college, primarily with young adults who had only reached the age of conscription in the last five years, AND given that she had my birthdate of 1990 right in front of her on my paperwork… I didn’t think I needed to!)

That’s The Spirit?
BIZARRE, RELIGION, USA, VET | HEALTHY | MARCH 2, 2020
(I work for a vet. The phone rings.)

Me: “[Clinic], this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Client: “Hi. I got a card in the mail that my cat is due for a checkup, so I’d like to schedule that.”

Me: “Certainly. May I have your last name?”

Client: “It’s [Last Name].”

Me: “Okay, and is this for [Cat]?”

Client: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, according to our records, it looks like [Cat] is overdue for her upper respiratory and distemper vaccine. Would you like to have that boosted?”

Client: “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to my husband about that. Can I let you know when I come in for the appointment?”

Me: “Of course.”

Client: “We’ll have to pray about it and dowse to decide.”

(As far as I know, dowsing refers to holding sticks to try and find groundwater. I have no idea how the client intends to use it to decide whether to vaccinate her cat.)

One Catty Pharmacist
CALIFORNIA, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, JERK, NON-DIALOGUE, PETS & ANIMALS, PHARMACY, USA | HEALTHY | MARCH 2, 2020
I work as a veterinary assistant at a cat clinic and know basic information about feline pharmacology. My friend’s cat takes 5 mg of a medication every day to control stress-mediated urinary crystals. His prescription is for 45 of the 10 mg tablets, with directions to give half a tablet each day.

My friend went to pick up the cat’s prescription from a large corporate pharmacy after work and did not think to check the prescription until she got home. What the pharmacy gave her was 90 of the 10 mg capsules, which cannot be cut in half, with instructions to give one capsule each day, which would be a double dose. The margin for error in many cat medications is pretty small, and a double dose could well cause serious harm. They also charged her about three times what that particular drug should cost from that pharmacy.

My friend called the pharmacy to complain and was put on with the pharmacy manager, who angrily insisted she had called the vet, the vet had changed the prescription, and the pharmacy had filled it according to the vet’s instructions. My friend knew this was nonsense but couldn’t prove it at that time because the vet clinic had closed for the evening.

The next day, my friend called the vet, whose receptionists confirmed that the prescription hadn’t changed and the pharmacy had never called them. My friend went back to the pharmacy after work with the information from the vet clinic, and they refunded her money and filled the correct prescription so fast she didn’t even get to ask for a manager. Another friend and I are encouraging her to make a formal complaint with corporate, as the mistake of instructing a patient to take a double dose could get the patient killed if the drug was, say, heart medication or a sedative.

These Trainees Will Have You In Stitches
HEALTH & BODY, MEDICAL OFFICE, MILITARY, NEW HIRES, NON-DIALOGUE, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 27, 2020
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

The first time I have to have stitches is during annual training for the military. My unit is required to participate in an exercise across the country. However, there is a prep period of about a week to two weeks depending on the size of the unit for this particular exercise, where we are required to be present and mostly do checks of equipment.

During this time, I am messing with my knife while by my bunk. I go to close the blade and nick my finger pretty bad, about half an inch deep on the tip of my index finger, right to the side of the nail to about the middle of the finger pad. I immediately go to my first aid kit to get gauze, thinking I’ll be able to stop the bleeding with direct pressure. I manage to reduce the amount of blood pouring from my finger a little, but after about an hour it hasn’t stopped so I am escorted to the aid station.

It isn’t during sick call hours, so it’s pretty slow and I’m admitted quickly. Despite reserving non-sick call hours for life, limb, and eyesight situations, they agree to see me. The major who is the equivalent of a surgeon or doctor comes in and analyzes the wound. It’s still bleeding and the flesh is separated, so he determines that I’ll need three sutures to keep the wound closed. I’m asked the question that would lead to me having the worst pain I have experienced in my life.

“Since it isn’t a life-threatening wound, would you mind if we let a few trainees inject the novocaine apply the stitches?”

Ever so ignorant, I agree; besides, my mistake can be another person’s learning opportunity, so why not? I agree and I meet the two trainees who are my rank, and a nurse who is a non-commissioned officer walks in to supervise as well as the major.

As a boy, whenever I got nervous or fearful around needles and the like, my father taught me to overcome these fears by looking at the procedure and concentrating on the pain level and how the fear never really justified how much it actually hurt.

As they prepared the numbing agent and stuck me once, I felt nothing; the major concluded that they’d missed and had them do another dose. My finger felt numb at the base but the tip where they would be working still had full feeling. After triple the normal dose and six different tries, my finger was now swollen from the local anesthetic and I could still feel my fingertip. I could not receive any more medication, so they decided to continue anyway.

I’ve dealt with needles. They didn’t hurt too much except that the trainees weren’t smooth on the exit and tore a bit while removing the needle. That’s not too bad; I give blood regularly and I’ve experienced it before. However, I saw the hook that was about to be sent through my body three times and I shuddered. These trainees had likely never done this before on a live subject. Granted, it wasn’t that bad of a wound, but it was still in one of the most nerve-rich centers on the body.

I tried to look at the procedure as the hook was pushed in for the first time and I nearly teared up from the pain. The NCO saw this and went into what I later learned was trauma nurse practices of distraction and breathing exercises. We talked about family and other subjects and when the pain got worse, she had to remind me to breathe. Twice more, they put the string through the skin while I forced myself to hold my hand as still as possible. The first two were done by the trainees and the last by the major. The major had experience so it wasn’t as terrible and took considerably less time.

When I was done, they wrapped it up and sent me back to my tent with no meds or painkillers — which I sort of understand — just with training, gauze, and other medical supplies to change the bandages every 24 hours.

I still had to go through the week-long exercise, and my bandages were removed in the field with a pair of scissors a week later. I still have the scar from the uneven stitching and I shudder whenever I think about having inexperienced medical staff perform stitches without effective anesthetic. To this day, I don’t trust local anesthetic by anyone, and I had to be put under general when I had my wisdom teeth removed about two months later.

This Story Will Take Your Breath Away
CALL CENTER, GERMANY, HEALTH & BODY, IMPOSSIBLE DEMANDS | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 23, 2020
(I work in an inbound 24/7 call centre while studying. We take calls for over 150 different companies and can rarely do more than take their details and have them be called back, but we are not supposed to let the callers know that. On one of my last Saturday night shifts, my coworker receives a call from an elderly man for a company that sells and waits on equipment for patient care, including oxygen tanks for private use. Extra note: on weekends we rarely get any calls, so there are only two people in the office at a time.)

Coworker: “This is [Company]; how can I help you?”

Old Man: “My oxygen tank isn’t working. Please send someone to help me.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, but we are already closed. I can make a note for support to call you back, but they will only see it on Monday. Do you require the oxygen supply constantly?”

Old Man: “I need my oxygen tank and it isn’t working. Please help me.”

Coworker: “I am really sorry, but there is nothing I can do until Monday. Please hang up and call emergency services; they will be able to help you until we can get your oxygen tank fixed.”

Old Man: “No! These are your oxygen tanks! You have to help me! Please help me!”

(They keep going in circles like this for almost 15 minutes, with the man repeating the phrase “please help me” until he hangs up on my coworker, but not before she has convinced him to tell her his name and address.)

Coworker: “I don’t know what to do. I don’t think he’s going to call an ambulance. What if something happens to him?”

Me: “Maybe we should call an ambulance for him to be sure? You got his address, right? Lack of oxygen can make people very confused, I think.”

(My coworker called our supervisor, because we are not technically allowed to make external calls. He said he didn’t know, either. We could call emergency services if we wanted to, but if the man decided to sue for breach of privacy, it would be on us. I decided to call the non-emergency line instead of my coworker, since they couldn’t fire me, anyway. The operator seemed more than a little weirded out by me calling an ambulance for a stranger I had never seen or spoken to but had an address and a name for, but he thanked me and my coworker for the effort. I never found out what happened to the old man, but I hope he was okay, whether he needed that ambulance or not. Emergency services are completely free here, by the way, for you concerned US citizens out there. PSA: At least around here, if you suspect someone’s life is in danger, you are totally allowed to disregard any data protection slips your workplace had you sign.)

That Takes A Lot Of Balls
EDITORS' CHOICE, HARASSMENT, HEALTH & BODY, HOSPITAL, TEXAS, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 21, 2020
(I have to visit the hospital due to a wave of nausea that was bad enough to keep me from going to work. The doctor decides to have an ultrasound done on my abdomen to check for anything that may be causing it. The radiologist doing the scan is a rather gorgeous girl that looks like she’s in her mid-20s.)

Me: “I have to ask. What’s the weirdest thing anyone’s ever asked you while you do this?”

Radiologist: “You’re not gonna believe this. Sometimes I have to do ultrasounds on guys’… um… testicles, and in the middle of it, they start asking me if I’m seeing anyone, or if I wanna go out, things like that.”

Me: “Wait. They’re having ultrasounds done on their balls and they think they have a shot?”

Radiologist: “Yeah. And it’s always the ones who need them scanned, too. It’s never the ones who need their chest or anything else scanned; it’s always the ones who need their testicles scanned. Maybe it’s because my hand has to be… you know, down there to do the scans.”

Me: *laughs* “Ever been tempted to tell them, ‘You know I’m taking pictures of something that might not be working, right?’”

Radiologist: *bursts out laughing*

What Part Of “NO MORE” Do You Not Understand?
HEALTH & BODY, HOSPITAL, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, NURSES, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 19, 2020
(I go into labor with my son. My mother-in-law drives me to the hospital and they admit me right away as I am dilated enough that the birthing process can begin. I should note that the pregnancy has not been the best as I was a super sick one and had additional complications that necessitated ultrasounds — the invasive kind — every week after the first three months of pregnancy. I already decided long before we had our child that this would be my first and last child, as I have four stepkids, all of whom fulfill my life. Skip ahead to the labor. I ask for an epidural as my pain tolerance is low. The epidural has to be administered three times due to an unknown condition with scoliosis. The first time, nothing happens but lots of pain. The second time, only a portion of my body is numb but not the parts I need. Finally, the third time, it is bliss. I no longer feel pain, only enough pressure to get through the task. Everything goes smoothly from there. Then, I ask to be put back on the depo shot as I do not want to ever get pregnant again. I joke that I would get a hysterectomy if I could.)

Nurse #1 : “Oh, honey, don’t worry. Let’s give you some time to let the pain meds wear off and think about birth control later. You are just scared because of your recent pregnancy.”

Me: “No, thank you. Can you please put me on the shot ASAP? It’s not because I disliked the experience; this was a decision made long before I became pregnant. I only want one child, as I am happy with our home dynamics as they are.”

(The next day, I ask another nurse for the depo shot.)

Nurse #2 : “Okay, I’ll look into it.”

(Nothing ever happens. The next day, with another nurse…)

Me: “Hi. The pain medicine has worn off, which I know was a concern for the first nurse, and I would like to receive my depo shot now, while I am still admitted in the hospital.”

Nurse #3 : “Okay, I will look into it and see what we can do, but you are still very emotional from just having a child. Maybe give it a while before you decide to go back on birth control.”

Me: “Thank you, but I am certain I do not want to have any more children, and it’s not because of the labor experience I had.”

(Quite a time has passed, and I realize they are not looking into it for me. My final and last day in the hospital, I ask yet another nurse who is still skeptical, but finally, I get the shot and am happy to leave. Fast forward to my regular gynecologist appointment. The nurse asks me to take a pregnancy test and I say I will, but there is no need as my spouse has gotten a vasectomy. Only then do I realize she is one of the nurses from my time in the hospital; my gynecologist office is a part of the hospital that specializes in complications so for some things, the staff is the same.)

Nurse #3 : “Oh, I thought you were kidding about not having any more kids.”

Me: “No, I wasn’t, and since it is easier for men to get a vasectomy… that’s what we did. The depo shot now is to keep my endometriosis under control and a backup in case the vasectomy ever reverses itself.”

(Needless to say, I stopped using them as my doctor’s office and found a different one.)

A Most Unreceptive Receptionist
JERK, MEDICAL OFFICE, RECEPTION, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 17, 2020
(I have a potential diagnosis of a rare and extremely painful neurological disorder. I have to schedule with a neurologist, who lives a four-hour drive from where I live. By this point, I’ve been in severe pain for several months, and my patience for rudeness is admittedly running a bit thin.)

Me: “Hi, I’m calling to see if I need an MRI before I come down.”

Receptionist: “The doctor will inform you if you need that at the appointment.”

Me: “Yes, I understand that, but it’s a four-hour drive to see this doctor and I have to stay overnight and I’d rather not have to do it more than once.”

Receptionist: *much more snippy than is necessary* “Well, that’s not my problem, is it?”

Me: “Pardon me, but I’ve been in fairly serious pain for a while and that’s why I’m calling your office — to make sure that the appointment to get rid of my pain runs smoothly.”

Receptionist: “There’s no reason to take that tone.”

Me: “Are you f****** kidding me?!”

Receptionist: “Young lady, if you insist on using that language with me, I will disconnect the call and inform [Doctor] of your attitude, and we’ll see if you see another neurologist in this hospital.”

(I disconnected the call, had a panic attack, and then cried with my mom for an hour. No one is making a first appointment with a specialist for happy fun times. If you don’t understand that someone is probably calling because they’re in pain or sick, maybe you shouldn’t work in healthcare.)

Their Brain Is Fried From All That Reading
FRANCE, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, MEDICAL OFFICE, PATIENTS | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 15, 2020
(I have a health issue which means I have to stay for a few months at a medical facility specialized for this problem. As it is not a hospital, meals are not served in the patient rooms but in a communal space. It works like a standard cafeteria, where most of the food is easy to see, but fries and some others are made at a different station a bit removed from the counter — but still very easy to see. On top of that, there are multiple menus, including on the counter, spelling out what dishes are available on any given day. This is an example of a conversation I’ve had multiple times.)

Other Patient: *seeing my plate* “How did you get fries?!”

Me: “I just asked for them.”

Other Patient: “But how was I supposed to know they had fries? It’s not very clear. Are there fries every day?”

Me: “No, only on the days where it’s on the menu.”

Other Patient: “And how do you know what’s on the menu?”

(I point to the menu right above the counter, written in big enough letters to be read from afar.)

Other Patient: *absolutely serious* “Well, if I have to read…”

Me: *facepalm*

What A Pain In The Foot
BELGIUM, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, HOSPITAL, JERK | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 13, 2020
(I trip and somehow my foot doubles up under me. At the ER, though, the doctor tells me the acute pain is not from the fall but a consequence of me being overweight — which, admittedly, I am. However, the pain persists with no show of diminishing and I decide to go back to my GP. He acknowledges that the x-ray taken at the ER was not conclusive and decides I need another kind of picture, one with radioactive isotopes. Note: I’m thirtyish at the time and I’m with my parents as, clearly, I’m unable to drive. Waiting for my turn, I overhear the following:)

Doctor: “I don’t care what she says. She is sixteen and she is here with her mother. Of course, she is not going to admit to being pregnant. I’m not going to inject her–” *with the isotopes* “–without a negative pregnancy test.”

Me: *quietly, to my mother* “They didn’t force me to do a test and I’m here with my mum, too.”

(I didn’t find out whether the teenager was pregnant or not. When reviewing my pictures, the doctor told me, “Ma’am, one thing is sure: you are in pain.” As it turned out, I had injured my foot during the fall and had to wear a cast for six weeks.)

OBG! Will You Listen!
MEDICAL OFFICE, USA, WORDPLAY | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 11, 2020
(I am a female veteran and need to make an OBGYN appointment. I call the appointment line to schedule. To help with understanding, I have a female primary doctor, “Julianne Smith.” For my OBGYN, I see another female doctor, “Rita Wilson.”)

Me: “Hello, I need to make an appointment for the women’s clinic.”

Scheduler: “Okay, you need an appointment with your primary provider?”

Me: “Yes, for the OBGYN.”

(In VA hospitals, the women’s clinic is not just for OBGYN, but other health-related issues, where the staff and patients are all female. I see both my doctors in this space.)

Scheduler: “Okay, so that’s with Julianne?”

Me: “No, not with her, the other one.”

Scheduler: “Oh, you meant your primary provider, Dr. Smith?”

Me: “No, please, I need the OBGYN.”

Scheduler: “Yes, Julianne?”

Me: “No, I need an appointment with Dr. Wilson.”

Scheduler: “Yes, Julianne?”

Me: “No! I need… Wait, are you saying Julianne or OBGYN?”

Scheduler: “OBGYN!”

Me: *now half deaf* “Okay, yes, the OBGYN. That’s the doctor I need to see.”

(The rest of the call went more smoothly after that!)

Wait A Minute…
MEDICAL OFFICE, NURSES, USA, UTAH, WORDPLAY | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 9, 2020
(I am a female. I wake up one morning and feel the indications of a flare-up of my Bell’s Palsy. When I get into work, I decide to call my doctor’s office to see if I can get in today to be checked out. They are able to squeeze in an appointment this morning for me. I arrive at the clinic well before my appointment time and find the waiting room quite busy. Knowing I am fortunate to even get an appointment this morning, I settle into a chair and wait to be called back to the exam rooms. Nearly an hour later, I am called back by the nurse. As she leads me to the exam room, we stop off at the scale to get weight and temperature. As I step off the scale, disappointed at the number, the nurse leads me on to the exam room and says to me:)

Nurse: “Sorry about your wait.”

Me: “Umm, yeah. Me, too.”

(My mind, still on the scale results, thinks she meant “weight” and now I’m wondering if I should be offended. Had she said, “Sorry about THE wait,” I probably would not be so confused.)

Me: *finally realizing what she meant* “Oh, you meant the waiting room.”

Nurse: “Yes! I would never…”

We Need To Quarantine Up All The Stupid
ASSISTED LIVING, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, MICHIGAN, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 7, 2020
(I work at the front desk of an assisted living community and at this time, a nasty norovirus is making its rounds of our residents and staff. We’ve been on a “visitor restriction” and quarantine for the past week, meaning unless your visit is mandatory for the continued well-being of the resident, you don’t come in. We’ve emailed all of the family, friends, and health care companies about the restrictions, asking them to call if they’re thinking about a visit, and I’ve posted a sign on the front door, with bold, black lettering highlighted in florescent orange, right at an average eye-level height.)

Visitor #1 : *walks in, oblivious to the sign* “Hello!”

Me: “Hello! Before you sign in, I have to let you know we’re under quarantine at the moment, so all visitors are restricted.”

Visitor #1 : “Oh? What’s going on?”

Me: “Well, like the sign on the door says…” *goes on to explain and they leave*

Visitor #2 : *waltzes in, ignoring the sign* “Good morning!”

Me: “Good morning! Just so you know…” *explains quarantine again*

Visitor #2 : “Huh! You should really post a sign or something!”

Me: *glances between her and the sign* “Yeah…”

Visitor #3 : “What do you mean, you’re still under quarantine?! I drove [amount of miles] to visit [Resident]! I’m her daughter!”

Me: “We called, emailed, and posted signs asking visitors to call before they come. I see you’re on the list that we called. Is [number/email] your correct phone number and email?”

Visitor #3 : “Well, I got the call, but I didn’t think it applied to me!”

(I will never, in my years of working with the general public, understand why people are so g**d*** stupid.)

Unable To Digest That Women Have Other Parts
BIGOTRY, FRANCE, HEALTH & BODY, JERK, PHARMACY | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 5, 2020
(My aunt wakes up one day with very bad stomach pain and gas. My uncle goes to the pharmacy for her and has this conversation with the pharmacist at the counter.)

Uncle: “My wife has stomach pain; what kind of medicine should she take?”

Pharmacist: *in a nonchalant tone* “It must be period cramps. Don’t worry.”

Uncle: “My wife who’s menopaused for two years? I don’t think so.”

Pharmacist: “Then it’s her menopause. Again, no worries.”

Uncle: “I didn’t know menopause could cause stomach pain.”

Pharmacist: *now with a more pedantic tone* “Well, you see, it’s not her stomach. Don’t worry about it.”

(By now my uncle is getting a little pissed off by the pharmacist’s insistence, so he puts his hands on the counter and speaks slowly.)

Uncle: “Listen here. My wife wakes up with stomach pain. The upper part of her belly is swollen; that’s where the stomach is. And she has gas coming from her digestive system, where the stomach is connected. Can I have a medicine for that or not?”

(The pharmacist went to his manager, who found the correct medicine in one minute. We don’t know why he was so insistent with his false diagnosis.)

Proving These Things Can Be A Real Pain In The Butt
ELEMENTARY/PRIMARY SCHOOL, HEALTH & BODY, MALAYSIA, NURSES | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 3, 2020
(The vaccine for tuberculosis is called BCG and it’s given to newborn infants in many countries. It leaves a small scar that proves you have been vaccinated. In Malaysia, it is administered on the left shoulder. Up until the ’90s, kids used to get a booster shot in year six of primary school, around age 11 or 12. Since it’s reputed to be a rather painful jab, my entire class is already quite apprehensive when we’re lined up in front of the school nurse, and then this happens:)

Nurse: “Where’s your original BCG scar?”

Me: “It’s on my backside.”

Nurse: “What do you mean? How come you don’t have it on your shoulder?”

Me: “I was born in Singapore! In Singapore, they jab babies on the backside!”

Nurse: “I have to check.”

Me: “Can’t I just phone my parents and have them talk to you?”

(After arguing with her for a few minutes, I was so scared that I would have to lift my skirt and show the nurse my buttocks that when she finally gave in and just gave me the jab, the pain was actually a relief.)

Have A Bad Feeling In The Back Of My Throat About This
AUSTRALIA, AUSTRALIAN CAPITAL TERRITORY, CANBERRA, HOSPITAL, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, NURSES | HEALTHY | FEBRUARY 1, 2020
(I am scheduled for a tonsillectomy in the afternoon. My mother gets a call in the morning.)

Nurse: “Is [My Name] all ready for her big surgery?”

Mother: “I guess so; I haven’t heard from her today.”

Nurse: “She hasn’t eaten in the past twelve hours, has she?”

Mother: “I wouldn’t know.”

Nurse: “You should know. She may not be able to have surgery if she ate; it’s too dangerous!”

Mother: “Given that she’s a twenty-seven-year-old woman, why don’t you call her mobile and ask her whether she ate?”

Nurse: *embarrassed silence*

(Most people having this surgery are children, and it’s protocol to call their parents and confirm the surgery. Why they didn’t check the age of the patient before calling my emergency contact is beyond me! It was funny at the time but also a breach of my privacy.)

This Doctor Is Not The Antibiotic Cream Of The Crop
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, HEALTH & BODY, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, MEDICAL OFFICE, UK | HEALTHY | JANUARY 30, 2020
(I go to the doctor due to fainting.)

Doctor: “Have you ever had eczema?”

(Eczema is a dry skin condition and cannot cause fainting.)

Me: “Yes, but not for years and I don’t currently have it.”

Doctor: “It’s just eczema; take cream and you’ll be fine.”

Me: “But why am I collapsing?”

Doctor: “You’ll be fine; just put antibiotic cream on.”

(Three hours later, I collapsed and hit my head, ending up in A&E. It turns out I’m epileptic.)

The MRI Is Not A Time Machine
IMPOSSIBLE DEMANDS, MEDICAL OFFICE, USA, WEATHER | HEALTHY | JANUARY 28, 2020
(I work in an outpatient radiology facility. We have normal operating hours of 8:00 am to 5:00 pm, with the exception of MRI, which is open until 9:00 pm due to demand. On the day this story takes place, we have been having terrible winter weather with lots of snow and wind. Many sections of the freeway have been closed, but not all. I answer a call from a patient scheduled for one of our evening appointments.)

Patient: “I have an appointment tonight at 5:30, but I was wondering if I could come in earlier?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but our schedule is completely full. I don’t have any earlier spots I could move you to.”

Patient: “But I have another appointment tonight and I’m afraid I won’t be out in time.”

Me: “I can move your appointment to another day if you need.”

Patient: “No, I really need to get this done today. Are you sure you don’t have anywhere you could put me?”

Me: “No, I don’t, I’m afraid. There is someone scheduled right before you and our appointments are back to back.”

Patient: *hems and haws in an irritated way* “Well, what if I come in earlier anyway?”

Me: “You can, but it would just be that much longer you have to wait for your scan.”

Patient: “Why? What’s your logic?”

Me: *thinking, seriously?* “Because the person ahead of you will still be in the machine and it won’t be ready for you yet.”

Patient: *hems and haws some more* “Well, can’t you just switch me with them?”

Me: *knowing the person ahead of him is coming from over an hour away on terrible roads, but of course, I can’t say that* “No, sir, I can’t do that. Again, I can change your appointment to another day if this evening won’t work.”

Patient: *hems and haws even more* “No, I’ll just see you tonight.”

They Need Brain Drops
FINLAND, IGNORING & INATTENTIVE, INSURANCE, PHARMACY, STUPID | HEALTHY | JANUARY 26, 2020
(I work in a pharmacy. The national Finnish health insurance covers certain medicines — insulin, medicine for glaucoma, etc. — almost 100%; you only pay 4,50 euros for three months’ use. But there is a price range the insurance covers and if there are less expensive generic alternatives, the insurance covers only the cheapest for 4,50€. You can still have the more expensive brand, but you have to pay the price difference yourself. Some medicines don’t have generic alternatives for years, but when they eventually come available, this is often the discussion:)

Me: “This eyedrop used to be 4,50€ but now there’s another brand that is 19€ cheaper so the health insurance covers only the cheaper one for that price. If you don’t want to change brands, you have to pay 4,50€ plus 19€; that is 23,50€.”

Patient: “Okay, I don’t want to change brands; I want to talk with my doctor first. I’ll take the original.”

Me: “Yes, that’s fine. You can have either one, but for the original, you now have to pay 23,50€.”

Patient: “Yes, but I don’t want another brand. I’ll just take the original today and talk with my doctor about the generic alternative. I’ve always used [Brand]. I’ll take that one.”

Me: “All right. I understand the situation. There used to be only [Brand] but last month [Cheaper Brand] became available and they set their price much lower. That is why the health insurance doesn’t cover the original [Brand] anymore, even though it used to cost only 4,50€. But you can still always choose the original one if you want. It’s just a bit more expensive now.” *enters the original brand on the computer and sends the customer to pay*

(An hour goes by and the telephone rings:)

Patient: “Yeah, I was there earlier and bought my glaucoma drops. They should be 4,50€ but it says on the receipt that I paid 23,50€ ! Why was it so much?”

Me: “…” *loses a little bit more faith in humanity every time*

Make Cheesy Choices, Suffer Cheesy Consequences
CONFERENCE, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, FUNNY NAMES, SILLY, USA | HEALTHY | JANUARY 26, 2020
The healthcare organization where I work is setting up an educational conference for our members, who are mostly doctors and nurses. When people register for the conference online, they have the option of customizing their name badges with nicknames and Twitter handles.

My coworker is preparing attendee name badges and notices something. An attendee, a doctor whose last name includes the word “cheese,” has customized his nickname to “The Cheeseman.” After much deliberation, we decide to print the name badge as-is.

At the conference, my coworker meets the attendee, hands him his registration packet, and shows him the name badge.

Doctor: “Wow… I don’t remember doing that. I must have been s***faced!”

Coworker: “We can print you a new one, if you’d like.”

Doctor: *Solemnly, and a little sadly* “No… No, I deserve this.”

He took his badge and wore it for the entire conference.

The Fall (And Rise) Of Medical Care
ASSISTED LIVING, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, EDITORS' CHOICE, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, THE NETHERLANDS | HEALTHY | JANUARY 24, 2020
(About ten years ago, I worked on an island off the Dutch coast in a nursing home. This happened on one of my night shifts. Note, at that time there were no helicopters allowed to fly at night. It’s just after 12 when I get a call from a resident. I can’t hear her, so I run as fast as I can to her to see if she needs help. The moment I step through the bathroom door, I can see she’s broken her hip. As she’s quite a big woman, my coworker and I can’t get her off the ground, so we call the local GP, who sends the ambulance to help us out. I ask him what medication she should be given, as she’s already in a lot of pain. The GP replies that I can give her paracetamol and call him if it’s not enough. Ten minutes later, the ambulance is onsite and they lift the resident into her bed. I give her 1000 mg paracetamol and cross everything in hopes it’ll at least do something. Forty-five minutes later, it’s clear it didn’t do anything — not surprising, really — and I call the GP again. He tells me to give her another dose of paracetamol and he says she’ll be transported off the island on the quick ferry around 8:00 am. I tell him that I don’t think paracetamol is going to cut it, but he insists. Another 45 minutes later, I call him again, saying it didn’t help and her condition is worsening due to the immense pain she’s in. I can see her getting a fever, amongst other things. He tells me to give her paracetamol again. By this time, she’s had 3000 mg in just over 90 minutes! It’s not good, but I’m not allowed to give her anything else, nor do I have the right papers to decide on anything else. I’m really frustrated and get the feeling the GP is not listening to anything I say. I go and have a look at the medication cabinet and find an unopened bottle of morphine that was described to a resident that died two weeks ago. I call the GP again and ask him to allow me to give her morphine, instead. He says yes, go ahead. Then, the following conversation takes place.)

Me: “All right, if you’ll send me the prescription by fax I’ll get right on it.”

GP: “Yeah, just give her [dose]; I’ll write the prescription in the morning.”

Me: “No, you know I’m not allowed to do that; it’s morphine. I need that prescription.”

GP: “In the morning!” *hangs up*

(I call right back.)

Me: “[GP’s First Name], I’ll give you exactly five minutes to write and fax that prescription, before I’ll head over to your house, grab you by the hair, and drag you out of bed to write it. Understood? Your time starts now!” *hangs up*

(It’s not nice of me, I know, but I’m really tired and I feel unheard. I walk over to the fax and within three minutes, the prescription has arrived. My coworker — who’s been doing all the work I should have been doing in the meantime — and I give the resident the morphine and within ten minutes I can see it’s finally working and the pain gets a bit less by around three in the morning. I start doing some other work, like writing a report for the hospital and packing a bag for the resident. At around five, I get a phone call.)

GP: “Hi, [My Name], since you haven’t called again I gather the morphine has started working?”

Me: “Yes, it has. She’s doing a bit better; she’s still in pain, but the edge is taken off.”

GP: “Yes, well, you know I said she’d be getting on the quick ferry? I’m having a problem as I need that spot for a woman in labour.”

Me: “So… she’s flying at dawn?”

GP: “Well… no. The helicopter is standing by for a man with heart problems.”

Me: “Right. So, normal ferry it is?!”

GP: “You see, that’s the problem. There’s nobody at the ferry headquarters who can accompany her. I can’t do anything other than hope to get her on the next ferry at noon.”

(That would be over 12 hours after she’s taken the fall and I know she’ll get worse if this takes too long.)

Me: “You know, I’m on the normal ferry this morning. I can accompany her.”

GP: “Really?”

Me: “Yes, if [Ferry Company] allows it, I can do it.”

GP: “I’ll call them and let them know.”

(They did allow me to accompany her; they even reimbursed my ticket and gave me breakfast! In the end, I did report my behaviour to my boss and told her what I’d said to the GP. She laughed it off and told me not to worry, as she thought it was hilarious.)

The Tooth Of The Matter Is, They Suck
DENTIST, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, JERK, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, PENNSYLVANIA, RECEPTION, USA | HEALTHY | JANUARY 22, 2020
Around mid-October, I begin to feel pain on the upper side in the back of my jaw. I didn’t have my wisdom teeth out as a teen, so I know I’ve waited too long to have them removed. At this point in my life, I’m on state Medicaid; I find a dentist who takes my insurance and see them in early November. The dentist confirms it’s my wisdom teeth coming in and refers me to an oral surgeon, as the X-rays indicate that all four are bone-impacted.

I call the oral surgeon’s office and get an appointment for December 28th. It goes well; they take another set of X-rays that informs us that the roots of my top wisdom teeth have grown into my sinus cavity. The bottom two are close enough to my nerve that he wants all four extracted, I will have to be anesthetized for it, and they need to come out ASAP. He assures they’ll submit the paperwork and the insurance will get back to me within two weeks.

I leave satisfied.

Two weeks roll around, nothing. I give calling the insurance an extra day, due to Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. They inform me that they have no record of any submission at all. They call the oral surgeon’s office and assure me that the office will resubmit the paperwork. I ask her how long it will take — by this point, one wisdom tooth has partially erupted; the other side of that tooth is pushing on my last molar — and am informed if the office submits online, it will take two days.

I then call the oral surgeon to find out how they might be submitting the paperwork, so I can find out how long I’m going to be in pain. I speak with a lovely woman who, in response to my question, replies, “I don’t know,” and hangs up on me. I call back immediately; it goes straight to the office message.

I call the insurance company back and ask if anything can be done. At this point, I can only wait for them to submit the paperwork, but I am urged that if they don’t, to contact state Medicaid and make a complaint.

I wait 24 hours and call the surgeon again. This time I get another woman, who is actually helpful. Surprise, surprise, no one submitted my paperwork. They also can only submit by mail, so there is at least a two-week wait. [Employee #2 ] assures me that she’ll submit the paperwork. She apologizes for her coworker with an exasperated sigh that tells me this isn’t the first problem [Employee #1 ] has caused.

Two weeks pass. I finally get a response from the insurance company in the mail: the extraction is approved, but general anesthesia is not. According to the paperwork, whoever submitted used the wrong code for the new year and it needs to be resubmitted, again.

It’s now Mid-February and I have been dealing with wisdom tooth pain since October. I can barely eat or sleep because of the pain.

I call state Medicaid and make a complaint about the way I was treated and how the situation was handled. I am told that my complaint is not valid because I did not receive services from the surgeon. They also will not approve the general anesthesia because I do not have any medical reason for it, i.e., fear of needles, anxiety, etc. To have all four bone-impacted wisdom teeth removed. At one time. No need. At all.

I find another dentist farther from my area and make the earliest appointment they have. They recommend me to another surgeon, even farther than the first surgeon. I get an appointment with the second surgeon within the week. He apologizes for the first surgeon and assures me that they’ll handle it properly.

It’s now the beginning of March. I get the paperwork from the insurance regarding the new surgeon’s submission; everything’s perfect. I have the surgery on March 27th, half a year after the pain started. It takes longer than expected, as my mouth is small; the surgeon has to take my bottom wisdom teeth in pieces to work around the nerves. I am advised to stay on bed-rest for the next five days.

Everything works out just fine — months pass and my jaw has healed completely. I end up getting a full-time job and dental insurance — different from state Medicaid — through them.

Sometime around August, I get a letter in the mail from my insurance, denying payment for an appointment from the very first dentist I saw about a referral to an oral surgeon.

I call that dentist and have my files transferred as quickly as I can.