During my freshman year in high school, my science teacher assigned us to interview people in the community about how they use science in their careers. Although I don’t remember most of the people I spoke with, I can tell you that I spent meaningful time with a local community pharmacist who changed my life.
What I saw was a man who loved his career and truly cared for his patients. In an instant, I knew that I wanted to become a pharmacist, and I never wavered from that goal throughout high school.
Knowing what you want to be when you grow up at age 14 is unusual, but it is very liberating. I simply had to work backwards to figure out how to achieve my goal of becoming a pharmacist.
After high school, I chose to attend Ohio Northern University (ONU) because it had a unique pharmacy program. Rather than attending college for 2 years and then applying to the pharmacy program, ONU students were admitted to the College of Pharmacy from day one.
Although it was expensive, being in pharmacy school from day one and avoiding the risk of rejection made it worthwhile for me.
In college, I spent a lot of time in the library. Although the classwork was difficult, I did well with one exception: organic chemistry.
I did fail organic chemistry—a notorious “weed out” course—but I successfully retook the class over the summer and graduated on time with the rest of my classmates. Failing a course is a difficult stumbling block, but I stood strong and persevered.
Today, I’m thankful for the wonderful pharmacy profession for so many reasons.
First, I’m thankful that community pharmacists are the health care professionals most accessible to the public. If my local pharmacist wasn’t accessible to me, then I likely would have taken a different career path.
Second, I’m proud of the work we pharmacists do, the diversity of our career options, and the relationships we share with our patients and fellow health care providers.
Pharmacy is a profession that makes a real difference in people’s lives. It certainly has made all the difference in mine.
Dentist, England, Jerk, Liars/Scammers, Ludlow, Shropshire, UK | Healthy | February 15, 2019
(I’m at the dentist, and he suggests I go to the hygienist for a clean, etc. I say okay, though I’m not convinced I need it. I’ve not been to the dentist for a couple of years, but my teeth are in great shape, as I look after them well. The following conversation proves me right, and I have not been back since.)
Hygienist: “You know, your teeth are quite incredibly clean considering it’s been six months since we last saw you.”
Me: “Actually, it’s been two years since you last saw me.”
Hygienist: “Well, you really should have come in before now, then! Your teeth need a clean!”
Roundups | Friendly Healthy Hopeless Learning Legal Related Right Romantic Working | February 14, 2019
Valentine’s Day. It’s a day of romance and celebration of love. It’s a day of candy and flowers and romantic dinners. It’s a day for sappy endearments and mushy exclamations of adoration.
But this is NotAlwaysRight, so instead we’re going to look at another side of love: Wedding Mayhem. Bridezillas. Groom-monsters. In-Laws that should be outlawed. Maids of Horror and Worst Men. Plus other participants in the event, willing or not.
Here are just the stories for you to make you think twice before walking down the aisle — or to bring up memories of your own.
Procrastination Cost You Your Marriage — What we have here is a failure to communicate.
Fall of Bridezilla — There are some lines that a bride — that anyone — should not cross.
The Bridal Shower Of Tears — So much for a family celebration.
Forget The Announcements, Here Comes The Pronouncements — The more you think about it, you wonder if she’s mean or right…
It’s A Warzone Up There — The wedding party has turned into a wedding riot.
Married To Herself — Maybe she was trying to start a family tradition of being self-absorbed.
She Is The Opinionator — The Maid of Honor is supposed to be helpful…
Pogo Bounce Out Of That Wedding — Even the band can get the worst of Bridezilla.
Bridezilla On Line 1 — What do you mean, you don’t have telepathy?
Mother Of Bridezilla — More like Momthra, wouldn’t you say?
Can’t Dress It Up As Anything But Bridezilla — “Your clothes. Give them to me.”
A Bridal Shower Of Criticism — The Momster Monster does not listen.
Stress About The Dress — We had to include this favorite, where a Bridezilla tries to ruin the day for another bride and gets her comeuppance.
Do you have any wedding disaster stories? Was there madcap mayhem at your wedding, or in the planning of it? Tell us all about it in the comments, or submit it here and we may publish it!
Car, Health & Body, Israel, Non-Dialogue, Police, Police Station | Healthy | February 13, 2019
About twelve years ago I was riding my motorcycle when I got hit by a driver that didn’t look to see whether the road was clear while exiting her driveway. The impact and subsequent fall wrecked the bike pretty badly; the lights and the mirrors were shattered, the rear brake drum had cracked, the clutch got stuck on partially-disengaged, and the transmission got stuck on third. I was okay, aside from a nasty cut on my chin that got the front of my jacket covered in blood.
After checking myself for bodily injuries and concluding that I had sustained none aside from that cut, I exchanged the mandatory details with the woman that hit me, and told her I wanted to contact the police to have an accident report filled. The woman exclaimed that “she had no time for this,” and promptly drove off, leaving her front bumper, which had torn off in the collision, behind. I then found out that I had no battery remaining on my phone.
I just went to the police station to get that report, on that very bike which was somehow still driveable with all that damage. The officer I spoke to was horrified by the way I looked with all that blood, told me that the report could wait, and urged me to go to the ER to get myself examined. When he asked me whether I could get to the hospital myself, I absent-mindedly just nodded and pointed at the helmet I had in my hand. That seemed to satisfy him and I went on my way.
In retrospect, I don’t know what was worse: the fact that I rode a motorcycle in a condition that made it nowhere near legal to be ridden right up to the police station’s front door, or that the officer, who must have assumed that I was involved in a serious crash, was perfectly fine with me riding the motorcycle involved in that very same crash to the hospital.
Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Maryland, Patients, USA | Healthy | February 11, 2019
(My daughter has had an accident at daycare where she smacked her nose pretty hard into the side of a table, so I’ve taken her to the urgent care clinic across the street. Due to the location of the injury, my husband and I have agreed to have them do an x-ray, just in case. Unfortunately, my husband has to return to work, so it’s just me with my daughter. It is important to note that I am also five-months pregnant, and it’s starting to be very obvious.)
X-Ray Tech: “Hi, Mom! We’re all ready to take [Daughter] for her x-ray.”
Me: “Great! Come on, [Daughter]. We’re going to go take a picture of the inside of your head!”
(The tech takes a better look at me, looks down at my rounded belly, looks back up at me, and puts on an impressively good poker face.)
X-Ray Tech: “I’m sorry, but um… I have to ask; is there any chance you might be pregnant?”
Me: “Yes, five months!” *smiles at her for a few seconds, and then the penny drops* “Ohhh, right.”
X-Ray Tech: “I’ll just get one of the nurses to go in with [Daughter].”
Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Maryland, Patients, USA | Healthy | February 11, 2019
(My daughter has had an accident at daycare where she smacked her nose pretty hard into the side of a table, so I’ve taken her to the urgent care clinic across the street. Due to the location of the injury, my husband and I have agreed to have them do an x-ray, just in case. Unfortunately, my husband has to return to work, so it’s just me with my daughter. It is important to note that I am also five-months pregnant, and it’s starting to be very obvious.)
X-Ray Tech: “Hi, Mom! We’re all ready to take [Daughter] for her x-ray.”
Me: “Great! Come on, [Daughter]. We’re going to go take a picture of the inside of your head!”
(The tech takes a better look at me, looks down at my rounded belly, looks back up at me, and puts on an impressively good poker face.)
X-Ray Tech: “I’m sorry, but um… I have to ask; is there any chance you might be pregnant?”
Me: “Yes, five months!” *smiles at her for a few seconds, and then the penny drops* “Ohhh, right.”
X-Ray Tech: “I’ll just get one of the nurses to go in with [Daughter].”
Medical Office, Patients, Punny, Seattle, Silly, USA, Washington | | Healthy Right Working | February 11, 2019
(I am answering the phone at an OB-GYN office when a woman calls to make an appointment.)
Me: “[Office], how can I help you?”
Woman: *sounding a little nervous but also very excited* “Ah, well, I need an appointment. It’s the strangest thing; I went sightseeing a few months ago, to see the pyramids. I thought I got food poisoning or indigestion from eating things I wasn’t used to. But it’s lasted for a few months, and this morning I glanced in the mirror and thought I looked a little heavier.”
(I can see where this might be heading, and am almost giddy because I can’t believe the fantastic joke opportunity I’m about to have.)
Woman: *continuing* “—so I took a pregnancy test. I think I’m three months pregnant!”
Me: *cheering internally* “Well, ma’am, it sounds like you did get sick on your trip.”
Woman: “Oh?”
Me: *holding back laughter* “You caught the Egyptian flu. You’re going to be a mummy!”
Woman: *laughs*
Me: “And congratulations. Let’s figure out your due date and get in your with one of our doctors.”
(As soon as I was done with work, I called my parents to tell them; they were also very amused.)
Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, UK, Wales | Healthy | February 10, 2019
(My father comes off his motorcycle when going round a bend and dislocates his shoulder. This the third time he has dislocated it. This, combined with the fact that he is 65 years old, means the doctors want to keep a close eye on how it is healing. My dad goes to the hospital for a check-up a month or two after the accident.)
Doctor: *looking at scans on the computer* “This doesn’t seem to have healed at all. I think you may need surgery to get this sorted.”
Father: “Are you sure? It feels a lot better.”
Doctor: “Based on what I see, yes. Stay here; I just need to speak someone about getting you scheduled in for the operation.”
(The doctor leaves the office. My father looks at the scans still on the screen and notices something important: the date of the scan is from just after the accident! No wonder it doesn’t appear to be healing. The doctor comes back into the office.)
Doctor: “So, we can get you in—“
Father: “Can I just stop you there? Could you check the date on that scan?”
Doctor: “What?” *checks date and twigs* “Ah. So sorry about that.” *brings up the most recent scan* “That’s much better; the healing seems to on track. We’ll make a follow-up appointment so we can check it again soon.”
Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, UK, Wales | Healthy | February 10, 2019
(My father comes off his motorcycle when going round a bend and dislocates his shoulder. This the third time he has dislocated it. This, combined with the fact that he is 65 years old, means the doctors want to keep a close eye on how it is healing. My dad goes to the hospital for a check-up a month or two after the accident.)
Doctor: *looking at scans on the computer* “This doesn’t seem to have healed at all. I think you may need surgery to get this sorted.”
Father: “Are you sure? It feels a lot better.”
Doctor: “Based on what I see, yes. Stay here; I just need to speak someone about getting you scheduled in for the operation.”
(The doctor leaves the office. My father looks at the scans still on the screen and notices something important: the date of the scan is from just after the accident! No wonder it doesn’t appear to be healing. The doctor comes back into the office.)
Doctor: “So, we can get you in—“
Father: “Can I just stop you there? Could you check the date on that scan?”
Doctor: “What?” *checks date and twigs* “Ah. So sorry about that.” *brings up the most recent scan* “That’s much better; the healing seems to on track. We’ll make a follow-up appointment so we can check it again soon.”
Australia, Extra Stupid, Hospital, Patients | Healthy | February 8, 2019
(Making bookings for patients is very easy. All I need is the patient’s name, phone, modality, body part, and doctor’s name. I’ve been on the phone for a few minutes. The patient is giving me a rather detailed explanation of why she needs a scan of her back, yet not telling me anything I need to know. I’m polite and don’t interrupt, but I am spending too much time on this call and my coworker needs help with patients lined up.)
Me: “Okay. That doesn’t sound good. Did your doctor want an x-ray, ultrasound, or CT?”
Patient: “Scan of my back. My back.”
Me: “On the form your doctor gave you, did they write XR, CT, or US anywhere?”
Patient: “My doctor’s name is [Doctor].”
Me: “Lovely.” *first piece of information off my checklist, but not what I asked for* “Did they check any boxes? Can you see, ‘spine,’ etc., anywhere?”
Patient: “Yes. It’s so sore. So sore.”
Me: “The paper the doctor gave you. Can you read it to me?”
Patient: “I have a paper. It says nothing.”
Me: *still very polite* “It doesn’t have your name on it? Not the doctor’s name and signature?”
Patient: “Yes, my name is [Patient]!”
(I can’t take it down until I know what they need and what room to start in, so I make a mental note for later.)
Me: “Okay. Now, the paper has nothing on it?”
(I know it’s repetitive, but I have to confirm for what I have to say next if it’s true.)
Patient: “Nothing. There’s nothing!”
Me: “Okay. So, that means its invalid. You’d need to go to the doctor and get him to write you a referral.”
Jerk, Medical Office, Nurses, USA, Virginia | Healthy | February 7, 2019
(When I am pregnant with our first child, my husband and I go to a birthing center for all my prenatal care and then for the birth. This birthing center has two midwives. One is a complete angel, but the other is quite difficult to deal with. Partway through the pregnancy, I notice I have gotten a lot of stretch marks on my stomach and am worried that it looks pretty bad. But since my husband hasn’t commented on or acknowledged them at all, I decide they must not be as noticeable as I thought. Then comes another appointment with the difficult midwife. When she sees my stretch marks, she exclaims
Midwife: “You look like you got attacked by a tiger! You really need to start working to prevent getting more.”
(She then proceeds to tell me methods to prevent getting more and warning me that they never go away, while I lay there feeling insecure and embarrassed. I look over at my husband to find him looking angry. When he and I get out to the car after the appointment, before we drive off, I turn to him and ask hesitantly and nervously
Me: “So… are they really that bad? Like I was attacked by a tiger?”
Husband: *frustrated sigh* “I could shoot that woman.”
Me: “…”
Husband: “I knew as soon as she started talking it would make you feel bad. I so wanted to knock her out or something.”
Me: “You’d never seemed to notice them, so I thought they weren’t that bad.”
Husband: “Of course I noticed them, but I didn’t care! They don’t matter. And I didn’t say anything because I knew it would make you feel bad! I think you are beautiful! The stretch marks really aren’t a big deal.”
Me: “Oh. Thank you.”
(This attitude is only one of the reasons I’m glad to be married to him.)
Arkansas, Coworkers, Elementary School, Lazy/Unhelpful, Non-Dialogue, Pets & Animals, Teachers, USA | Healthy | February 6, 2019
My grandmother was a teacher at one of the nearby elementary schools, and at the time she was teaching in this old, wooden building which was located where the playground is now. One day, as she was teaching, a wasp flew in. My grandmother was deathly allergic to wasp stings, so she freaked out, screaming and diving under her desk to avoid it. She ended up writing a note and sent it with a student to the janitor.
The note read, “There’s a wasp in here, and I’m allergic. Come get it!”
The student came back with a reply on the other side of the paper that read, “I know how you feel.”
Crazy Requests, Indiana, Jerk, Patients, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | February 4, 2019
(The pharmacy where I work is the only 24-hour one in town. We keep all our narcotics in a time-delayed safe that we don’t open at night. The only exception is a few we keep out for hospital patients. One night after 11:00 pm, a lady comes through the drive-thru to drop off a script for one of these medications.)
Me: “We have this in stock and we can have it ready for you around 7:00 am.”
Lady: “I can’t get it now? I’ve been out all day! Can’t you just give me a couple to get me by?”
(I’m thinking, “If you’ve been out all day, why wait until this late at night to get more?”)
Me: “This is in a time-delayed safe, so we can’t fill these at night.”
Lady: “Well, what’s the point in being a full-service, 24-hour pharmacy if you can’t fill prescriptions at night?”
Me: “We can fill most prescriptions at night, but this is in our time-delayed safe which can’t be opened after eight.”
Lady: “I don’t care about anyone else’s prescriptions. This is for me!”
Crazy Requests, Indiana, Jerk, Patients, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy | February 4, 2019
(The pharmacy where I work is the only 24-hour one in town. We keep all our narcotics in a time-delayed safe that we don’t open at night. The only exception is a few we keep out for hospital patients. One night after 11:00 pm, a lady comes through the drive-thru to drop off a script for one of these medications.)
Me: “We have this in stock and we can have it ready for you around 7:00 am.”
Lady: “I can’t get it now? I’ve been out all day! Can’t you just give me a couple to get me by?”
(I’m thinking, “If you’ve been out all day, why wait until this late at night to get more?”)
Me: “This is in a time-delayed safe, so we can’t fill these at night.”
Lady: “Well, what’s the point in being a full-service, 24-hour pharmacy if you can’t fill prescriptions at night?”
Me: “We can fill most prescriptions at night, but this is in our time-delayed safe which can’t be opened after eight.”
Lady: “I don’t care about anyone else’s prescriptions. This is for me!”
Medicaid: Come Back When There’s More Than One Stomach Hole
Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Lazy/Unhelpful, USA | Healthy | February 3, 2019
(I have been extremely sick with stomach issues for quite a long time, but have had zero luck finding a doctor who will take on a Medicaid patient. One day, the pain after trying to eat something becomes so severe that I ask my grandma to take me to the ER. We go to the main hospital downtown and wait. My mom eventually gets off work and comes to take grandma’s place waiting with me. Finally, after over eight hours, I’m called back. We sit with the doctor and talk about my symptoms: non-stop nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, lack of appetite, exhaustion, unable to keep anything solid down, and so on, getting progressively worse over the course of more than a year. I’ve survived on an increasingly all-liquid diet all that time, so it’s clear something’s wrong.)
Doctor: “Well, you’re young, so I’m not too worried about it. I know you’re in school right now. Remember, your state of mind can really affect your body. Have you been depressed at all?”
(Yep, no tests or anything other than checking my blood sugar and doing a pregnancy and drug screening. I am discharged with basically the advice to try to relax and find a GP to discuss things with. Exactly one week later, I’m at home, and this time start vomiting blood pretty much nonstop rather than the usual intermittent basis. I call the nursing helpline for my Medicaid provider.)
Nurse: “You’re bleeding internally. You need to get to an ER immediately. Do you have someone who can drive you, or should I line up a ride for you?”
Me: “Well, I was literally just in the ER last week.”
Nurse: “Miss, you really need to go back. Is there someone who can take you?”
Me: “Yeah, I know my mom will take me if I tell her. Thank you.”
(Sure enough, my mom came to get me, and we headed for the one hospital in town not part of the network that ran the other one, as it was the local Catholic hospital. I was checked in and taken back within a few minutes, the doctor really listened, and they did tests, giving me meds to help with the nausea in the meantime. Turns out, my H. pylori numbers were practically astronomical, and the ultrasound revealed visible swelling where an ulcer was on the brink of eating through my stomach, in addition to the anemia and high white cell count. I effectively got there pretty much just in time. So, yeah, that’s my story of how most of the medical system wanted to effectively leave me to die just because I couldn’t make enough between my four jobs while going to school, and the one hospital that saved my life. Thanks to a scheduler in the local medical system, I have since found a GP and a GI specialist who are working on the underlying autoimmune issue we’ve since found, as well as getting the stomach issues under control that I was left with due to long-term lack of treatment.)
Medicaid: Come Back When There’s More Than One Stomach Hole
Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Lazy/Unhelpful, USA | Healthy | February 3, 2019
(I have been extremely sick with stomach issues for quite a long time, but have had zero luck finding a doctor who will take on a Medicaid patient. One day, the pain after trying to eat something becomes so severe that I ask my grandma to take me to the ER. We go to the main hospital downtown and wait. My mom eventually gets off work and comes to take grandma’s place waiting with me. Finally, after over eight hours, I’m called back. We sit with the doctor and talk about my symptoms: non-stop nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, lack of appetite, exhaustion, unable to keep anything solid down, and so on, getting progressively worse over the course of more than a year. I’ve survived on an increasingly all-liquid diet all that time, so it’s clear something’s wrong.)
Doctor: “Well, you’re young, so I’m not too worried about it. I know you’re in school right now. Remember, your state of mind can really affect your body. Have you been depressed at all?”
(Yep, no tests or anything other than checking my blood sugar and doing a pregnancy and drug screening. I am discharged with basically the advice to try to relax and find a GP to discuss things with. Exactly one week later, I’m at home, and this time start vomiting blood pretty much nonstop rather than the usual intermittent basis. I call the nursing helpline for my Medicaid provider.)
Nurse: “You’re bleeding internally. You need to get to an ER immediately. Do you have someone who can drive you, or should I line up a ride for you?”
Me: “Well, I was literally just in the ER last week.”
Nurse: “Miss, you really need to go back. Is there someone who can take you?”
Me: “Yeah, I know my mom will take me if I tell her. Thank you.”
(Sure enough, my mom came to get me, and we headed for the one hospital in town not part of the network that ran the other one, as it was the local Catholic hospital. I was checked in and taken back within a few minutes, the doctor really listened, and they did tests, giving me meds to help with the nausea in the meantime. Turns out, my H. pylori numbers were practically astronomical, and the ultrasound revealed visible swelling where an ulcer was on the brink of eating through my stomach, in addition to the anemia and high white cell count. I effectively got there pretty much just in time. So, yeah, that’s my story of how most of the medical system wanted to effectively leave me to die just because I couldn’t make enough between my four jobs while going to school, and the one hospital that saved my life. Thanks to a scheduler in the local medical system, I have since found a GP and a GI specialist who are working on the underlying autoimmune issue we’ve since found, as well as getting the stomach issues under control that I was left with due to long-term lack of treatment.)
Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, Patients, USA | Healthy | February 2, 2019
(The office I work in is in a larger building with other medical offices in it. I’m walking in to work one day and see an older lady standing in the intersection of two hallways looking lost. I’m not wearing scrubs or a uniform of any kind, but I must look like I know where I am going because she stops me with this
Old Lady: “Where do I go?”
Me: “Which office are you looking for?”
Old Lady: “I don’t know; where do I go?”
Me: “Are you seeing a doctor or having a procedure done?”
Old Lady: *motions to her throat* “They’re scanning this.”
Me: *thinking this narrows down the possibilities to two offices* “Do you know what kind of scan, or the name of the office you need to be at?”
Old Lady: “They just told me to come in door B.” *our building entrances are marked with letters* “Where do I go?”
Me: “Well, I work at [Radiology Clinic], so follow me and we’ll see if your appointment is with us.”
Old Lady: “But where do I go?”
(Her appointment was with us, but for the next day. We were able to squeeze her in. It happens way too often that patients come for scans but have no idea what it’s for or which doctor sent them. I would be able to understand getting lost if the offices in our building weren’t so clearly marked and there weren’t maps at every entrance.)
Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, Patients, USA | Healthy | February 2, 2019
(The office I work in is in a larger building with other medical offices in it. I’m walking in to work one day and see an older lady standing in the intersection of two hallways looking lost. I’m not wearing scrubs or a uniform of any kind, but I must look like I know where I am going because she stops me with this
Old Lady: “Where do I go?”
Me: “Which office are you looking for?”
Old Lady: “I don’t know; where do I go?”
Me: “Are you seeing a doctor or having a procedure done?”
Old Lady: *motions to her throat* “They’re scanning this.”
Me: *thinking this narrows down the possibilities to two offices* “Do you know what kind of scan, or the name of the office you need to be at?”
Old Lady: “They just told me to come in door B.” *our building entrances are marked with letters* “Where do I go?”
Me: “Well, I work at [Radiology Clinic], so follow me and we’ll see if your appointment is with us.”
Old Lady: “But where do I go?”
(Her appointment was with us, but for the next day. We were able to squeeze her in. It happens way too often that patients come for scans but have no idea what it’s for or which doctor sent them. I would be able to understand getting lost if the offices in our building weren’t so clearly marked and there weren’t maps at every entrance.)
School Is Not Much Of An Improvement Over Hospital
Bizarre, Canada, Hospital, Patients | Healthy | February 1, 2019
(I’m a nurse in a smallish community hospital. A number of our patients are awaiting placement in long-term care and aren’t acutely ill. However, because they’re living in a germy hospital, they’re inclined to pick up bugs, and older folks with cognitive decline can get intensely confused with any sort of infection. One morning, one of our longtime patients, an older, bedridden lady, starts telling us all that she’s on a couch in a schoolhouse in a completely different small town and she needs to get back to the hospital. She laughs at us when we try to explain that she’s already in the hospital, and has a shouting match with her husband when he comes in and tries, as well. Later in the day, I’m doing some charting at the nursing station and answer a phone call
Me: “[Floor], [My Name] speaking.”
Patient: “Oh, hi. I’m just calling to let you know that I’m not there today; I’m at the school in [Town].”
Me: “[Patient], you are here today. I saw you this morning. I helped with your bath.”
Patient: “No, I’m not. I’m in [town], but I thought I should call in case [Husband] is looking for me.”
Me: “[Patient], your husband was in this morning. To the hospital. Where you are. In room [number]. Look. I’ll walk down the hall to your room.”
Patient: *laughs* “Okay, you do that; I won’t be there, though.”
(I walk down the hall, while talking to the patient on the cordless extension, and into her room. She sees me and continues talking over the phone to me.)
Patient: “Oh, a girl’s here now!”
Me: *hangs up* “[Patient], that’s me; you were just talking to me.”
Patient: *keeps talking into the phone* “See, I’m in [Town] and I need to get back to the hospital!”
(I gave up; she would not be reoriented. Later, I answered a call from our switchboard, who patched through 911. The patient had called them to ask to be returned to the hospital. I had to go back to her room to talk to the 911 dispatch on her phone and cancel the request. Then I disconnected her phone. This patient is recovered and quite lucid once more.)
England, Extra Stupid, Hospital, Lazy/Unhelpful, London, Non-Dialogue, UK | Healthy | February 1, 2019
I go to see my dad one day while my mum is away on a trip, to keep him company and to help him get some stuff done. One of the things he wants to do is add new waterproofing strips to the top of his workshop. We set up the ladder and I go up while he cuts some blocks. Rather foolishly, we didn’t do anything resembling good practice while setting up the ladder, a fact that comes back to bite me when I try to climb down it and it slips out from under me. I fall and luckily I land feet-first, but then I tip forward, and this time I land head-first on the patio.
I scream and my dad rushes out. A quick damage assessment has a lot of blood streaming from my head and a small puddle of it on the floor. I should note at this point that my dad and I are absolutely terrible for seeking medical attention. The last time my dad was in hospital he had managed to nearly slice his thumb off, and I, likewise, had not gone to hospital since I was eight. But given the amount of blood, we decide a trip to the hospital might be a good idea.
Since we are close to the hospital, we decide it would be faster and easier to just drive me in. With a towel soaking the blood up, we drive to the hospital and I walk in. It’s worth noting that despite the fact I’m walking, my t-shirt is covered in blood. The towel at my head it quite wet with it, too; anyone with some sense should probably figure I’m an urgent case. The staff who assign severity of cases, however, take a different view on things. First, I have to sit for five minutes, and then I meet with someone to fill out my details before being sent down a hallway to another waiting room. After around five minutes here, the blood loss and shock is getting to me and I literally pass out onto the floor.
According to my dad, I am suddenly swarmed with nurses and doctors, my blood pressure and vitals are taken, and I am shoved onto a bed with a compress applied to my head. At first, however, there is some confusion as to who I am. It turns out the admitting nurse decided my case wasn’t that serious, “because he was walking,” and had listed me as discharged.
I am given a head CT and kept in for six hours of observation, diagnosed with a mild concussion and a large cut to the side of my head, which fortunately closes without the need for stitches. My dad thinks it is hilarious later when a sign on our way out reads, “Would you recommend [Hospital] to a friend?” With the way they handled my case…
Extra Stupid, Food & Drink, home, Madison, Patients, Roommates, USA | Healthy | January 31, 2019
(My flatmate has been seeing a doctor for heart palpitations and has had to do a number of things to troubleshoot it, including wearing a portable heart monitor. One evening we are hanging out in the kitchen.)
Me: “Didn’t the cardiologist say you have to cut down on caffeine?”
Flatmate: “Yeah, so I stopped drinking coffee.”
Me: “How many cups of black tea have you had today already, though?”
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