Their Attitude Is Nothing But A Puff Of Air
Medical Office, USA | Healthy | January 10, 2018
(This is back when the “puff of air” type of glaucoma test was still common. I am 13 or so at this point and have a very strong blink reflex, as well as anxiety that makes me very uncomfortable in medical offices, meaning I have a bad startle reflex, as well. My dad has warned me that the glaucoma test is unpleasant, so I make a request of the nurse doing the test.)
Me: “Can you please count down before you shoot the air? I’ll jump really badly otherwise.”
Nurse: *dismissively* “Uh huh, got it.”
(I’m shaking like crazy when I put my eye up to the machine but trust that the nurse will honor my request. I hear her making some adjustments, and then suddenly she shoots me with the air and I nearly fall out of my chair.)
Me: *startled and close to tears* “You said you’d count.”
Nurse: “I can’t; you’d move away if you knew when it was coming. Oh, come on, you jumped so fast my results got messed up, so we’ll have to redo that eye.”
(She has to do the test three times on one eye and two on the other because I keep jumping so badly. By the time she finishes, I am a wreck and terrified of coming back the next year. Fortunately, shortly after that they raise the minimum age for the test to 18, but when I reach 19 and have an appointment at a new practice I’m still petrified at the thought of the test.)
Me: *to the nurse* “Is there any way I can opt out of the glaucoma test? I don’t have a family history of it and I’m not old enough to be at risk yet.” *I explain my bad experience from years earlier*
New Nurse: “Oh, don’t worry, we actually don’t use that version of the test here. It’s not as accurate, anyway.”
(The new version involves numbing drops and having the eye touched with a small instrument, and I didn’t feel a thing. The new nurse said the other woman had no reason not to count down for me.)
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Childish Behavior, Part 3
Dentist, UK | Healthy | January 9, 2018
(I arrive for a dentist appointment to have some X-rays of my jaw. I am sitting in the waiting room for around 10 minutes when I am called through.)
Dentist: “Okay, sit yourself back down and we’ll take a look.”
(She starts feeling around my gum line. I’m not sure why, but just assume it has something to do with the X-ray.)
Dentist: “How does that feel?”
Me: “What do you mean?”
Dentist: “Is it numbed up yet?”
Me: “No?”
Dentist: “Hmmm. We can’t give you any more anaesthetic today. We’ll give it another few minutes.”
Me: “Umm, you haven’t given me any anaesthetic.”
Dentist: *turns back to computer* “Are you [Name]?”
Me: “No, I’m [My Name].”
Dentist: “Oh, you’re my next appointment. Looks like [Assistant] called you in by mistake.”
(I was sent back out and the other patient is called in — a young girl, while I’m a 27-year-old man. I was honestly so shaken by how the dentist didn’t realise the difference that I left and forgot the appointment. I didn’t go back for another two years until the pain in my jaw reached unbearable, at which time most of the staff had been replaced (including my old dentist). I had to register again, but I was put with someone more competent. I got my X-rays and found out I have temporomandibular disorder. I was sent to my GP (which admittedly I should have gone to initially) and prescribed antidepressants to try and relax the muscles. I put myself through two years of additional pain because I was mistaken for a child.)
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