Have A Heart, Use Your Brain

Giving Your Children A Time-Release Heart Attack
HEALTH & BODY, HOME, NON-DIALOGUE, PARENTS/GUARDIANS, USA | HEALTHY | JULY 5, 2020
My father contacts me to let me know he is in the hospital. Something is going on with his heart; they are not sure what yet. After a lot of testing, and a lot of panic on my end, he is released with some new medication. He says they are not exactly sure what happened; he didn’t have a heart attack, though.

Fast forward several months, and the topic comes up. I ask him if they have figured out what happened that day.

“No,” he says. “Just that it was some kind of myocardial infarction.”

Cue my bio-nerdy stare of disbelief. That was the day I got to tell my engineer father that “myocardial infarction” is the technical term for a freaking heart attack!

A Most Receptive Receptionist
AWESOME, HEALTH & BODY, MEDICAL OFFICE, NON-DIALOGUE, PATIENTS, RECEPTION, SWEDEN | HEALTHY | JULY 4, 2020
I suffer from recurring bouts of erysipelas and have had it twelve times for the past nine years. Each time, I amass a lot of fluids in my body and gain twenty to twenty-five kilograms in a couple of days, which is great fun. I then work hard to shed the unwanted weight and drop back to the original weight, only to get erysipelas again. It’s rather draining mentally.

The first time I got sick, I didn’t understand what was happening. My legs were so filled with fluid that they stopped working, and it took me four hours to drag myself from the living room out to the phone in the hallway to call for an ambulance. I ended up spending four months isolated in the hospital, and I lost all skin on my right leg, from the hip and all the way down to under my feet and around my toes. Instead, green gunk gushed out from the open wound.

It took me six months before I could walk again and I became a “frequent flyer” at my local health clinic during this time, when I also battled cancer.

About eighteen months ago, it was my best friend’s birthday and I was looking forward to visiting her. When I woke up that morning, I felt unwell, but since I had called out sick the two previous times we were supposed to meet, I didn’t want to disappoint her again. She picked me up, we went to her home, and she gushed over her gifts as I started shaking more and more violently. I fell off my chair as I couldn’t stop shuddering. My friend got this huge blanket and wrapped me in it, but I couldn’t speak as I was shaking too much. She dragged me out to her car and drove me home, where I called the health clinic.

I knew from the shaking and the state of my leg that I had erysipelas again.

I was informed by an automated message that they had filled their daily quota for walk-ins, but I was welcome to try again the next day. I knew it was erysipelas but it also felt different as it was progressing much faster than normal.

I called the national health helpline and talked to a rather snotty lady. She told me to call an ambulance right away.

I refused, as I had had erysipelas eleven times before. I knew that I just needed antibiotics and I would get better in a few days — no need for an ambulance or clogging up the emergency room with something unimportant.

So, barely conscious and shaking violently, I went out into the kitchen and made schnitzels. After all, it was what I had planned to cook that day. They were delicious, but… it was not the most logical action. I was rather delirious, though, which might excuse my lack of logical thinking.

I then called the health clinic again and spoke to the receptionist. I knew I would only need a five-minute appointment to come in, show my glaringly red leg, and get a prescription for antibiotics. Could they possibly squeeze me in?

“Yes, if you can get here at 12:45, we can fit you in.”

“Great! I’ll take the bus in ten minutes, at 12:20. See you!”

By now, my legs were swollen, filled with fluid, and horribly infected, and it was difficult to lift my feet. I used my distance walking sticks as crutches to stumble to the bus stop.

It’s only a three-minute bus ride to the health clinic.

When I entered the health clinic, the reception was deserted. A woman was seated in the waiting area but not waiting for the receptionist; I don’t know if she was the companion of another patient or waiting for her ride home. I sat down by the receptionist with my identification ready and more or less lost consciousness. I was shaking so badly. After a while, the receptionist returned. I was too ill to notice, but the other woman went up for me.

“You have to see her immediately!” the woman told the receptionist. “She’s really sick.”

She handed over my ID and my wallet to the receptionist, who ran me through the computer, and together they managed to shake some life into me and I managed to hop on my own to the waiting room.

My leg hurt so badly that I couldn’t sit properly, and I had to place it on the table. It was pretty disgusting, but the leg hurt so bad.

The nurse came over and said, “Hi, [My Name]! Oh, my! Wait here!”

She rushed over to the doctor’s office; I could hear her urge him to come out right away.

“Hi, [My Name],” the doctor said. “Wow, you have erysipelas. When did it start?”

“Two hours ago,” I said.

“Two hours? No, that can’t be. Can I check your arm?”

Yeah, of course, he could. I wasn’t going to use it myself, so check away.

“Wait here! There’s no need for any exam or testing.” Off he went for a couple of minutes before he returned, chatting on a cell phone. “It’s urgent! You have to rush!” he begged on the phone. Then, he turned back to me. “Okay, [My Name]. You have erysipelas, which you already know, because you know this disease better than any of us doctors here. But… you’re going into sepsis. In two hours, the sepsis has spread from your calves to your elbows. It’s really, really bad. I’ve called an ambulance.”

The ambulance arrived in less than ten minutes. I was quickly treated at the hospital and made a full recovery.

If the receptionist hadn’t squeezed me in, I would have gone to bed, instead. Considering how fast the sepsis was spreading, the outcome would not have been good. I am eternally grateful for the wonderful treatment I got that day.

A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 3
CURRENT EVENTS, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, MEDICAL OFFICE, RECEPTION, USA | HEALTHY | JUNE 22, 2020
I have a compromised immune system, so I’ve been working from home and haven’t been going out much. My doctor has set up telehealth visits where we can video chat instead of going to the office.

A few days before my visit, I get a call from the office.

Me: “Hello?”

Receptionist #1 : “Hi, this is [Receptionist #1 ] from [Doctor]’s office. Am I speaking with [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes, this is her.”

Receptionist #1 : “Okay! I need to go over some basic information before your appointment. It’s just the check-in stuff we would normally do in person. Do you have about fifteen minutes for that?”

I glance at my schedule and see that I don’t have anything pressing coming up.

Me: “Sure.”

We go over my basic info — name, date of birth, weight, medications, etc. — and she verifies that I know how to log in to see the doctor. We hang up and I go back to work.

The next day, I get another call from their office. Unfortunately, I’m already in a call with a client, so I can’t answer. After I’m done, I listen to the voicemail.

Receptionist #2 : “Hi, this is [Receptionist #2 ] from [Doctor]’s office calling for [My Name]. I just need to go over some basic information with you before your appointment. Please call us back at [phone number] prior to your visit. Thank you.”

Thinking this is about something new, I call back.

Receptionist #2 : “[Doctor]’s office.”

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name]. I just received a call about some information before my visit?”

Receptionist #2 : “Okay. Let me pull up your file here… Okay, we just need to do your basic check-in before your visit. Do you have about fifteen minutes?”

Me: *Confused* “I did that yesterday. Is there something new?”

Receptionist #2 : “Hmm, I don’t see anything here. Are you sure it was with us?”

Me: “Yeah, same number, same appointment.”

Receptionist #2 : “Well, I’m not sure what happened but nothing is charted here. Can we go over it to make sure?”

Me: “I have a few minutes, yeah.”

We go through everything again, and after the receptionist assures me it’s all been documented, we hang up. The following day I get ANOTHER call from the same office. I’m still working, so I let it go to voicemail again. It’s a third receptionist, wanting to verify all of my information yet again. I call back, annoyed.

Receptionist #3 : “[Doctor]’s office.”

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name]. I received another call about my upcoming appointment.”

Receptionist #3 : “I see. Well, it looks like we’ve been trying to reach you, I see. I can go over your info now if—”

Me: “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sure this isn’t your fault, but I’ve done this twice already. Is it not being logged or something?”

Receptionist #3 : “I don’t see anything about us talking with you. Do you know who it was?”

Me: “Well, I have [Receptionists #2 & #3 ] in voicemails but I can’t remember the first one’s name.”

Receptionist #3 : “Mmhmm, I called today. I see that [Receptionists #1 & #2 ] also reached out. Are you sure you spoke with us, not another office?”

Me: “Yes. I’m sure. How is this not being recorded? Can you ask the other receptionists?”

Receptionist #3 : “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I can go over your information with you now.”

Me: *Sigh* “Fine.”

For a third time, I went through everything. I guess it finally stuck because that was the last call before the doctor’s visit. When I asked her if other people had the same problem, she said she didn’t know anything about it. Suddenly, I miss those in-person visits.

A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 2
EMPLOYEES, ENGLAND, JERK, MEDICAL OFFICE, RECEPTION, UK | WORKING | JULY 7, 2020
I’ve recently legally changed my name but haven’t quite updated it everywhere as some places require me to physically visit them, and it’s hard to keep track of everywhere.

I’m a university student home for the summer and am made a temporary patient at the local doctors. After my appointment, I notice my name is wrong and go to ask at reception about changing it. There are two receptionists.

Me: “Hey, so, uh, my name legally changed, and I’m wondering if I need to give you guys anything to update it? I have my deed poll here.”

Receptionist #1 : “Let me see. How did you change it?”

Me: “By deed poll; I have it here.” *Holds out the paper*

Receptionist #1 : *Takes the deed poll* “Is this our copy?”

Me: “No, that’s my legal copy. Do you need it?”

[Receptionist #1 ] goes to a cupboard; I assume that’s where a photocopier is or something.

Receptionist #2 : “Wait, you’re a temporary patient. right? You need to update it with your GP up in [University City], not us.”

Me: “Oh, okay, thanks.”

I don’t move as the first receptionist is still holding my deed poll.

Receptionist #1 : “You really need to update your name. Legally, you have to.”

I hold out my hand for the deed poll.

Me: “I know. I just can’t afford to go up to [City] for one day.”

Receptionist #1 : *With a sort of “gotcha” tone* “Then how are you getting back for university? You need to change it; it can cause problems if you don’t.”

Me: “I know.”

Receptionist #2 : *Cutting in* “Their parents are probably helping them move back in; they just can’t go up a random day in summer. Hon, I’ve got it all set on the system. You’re fine. Have a good day.”

[Receptionist #1 ] said nothing and handed me my deed poll.

I thanked the second receptionist and left. I know updating my name is important, but it’s also expensive enough without having to travel just to hand over a piece of paper.

Related:
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist

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.)

Becoming The Butt Of An Insult-To-Injury Situation
FRIENDS, MILITARY, NON-DIALOGUE, PATIENTS, PRANKS, VIETNAM | HEALTHY | JUNE 27, 2020
My dad served in Vietnam between 1969 and 1972. During this time, he saw many of his fellow soldiers injured.

One drew the lucky straw in a firefight and wasn’t fatally injured. The bullet went in one side and out the other side — of his buttocks.

While he was laid up in the hospital, my dad and a few friends visited him.

They all very solemnly entered the guy’s hospital room and very seriously informed him that the doctors had told them that the patient’s bottom was going to have to be amputated due to the injury.

But they were going to get him a nice wooden replacement from the resident local crafters, all shiny and polished, with a belt to hold it on. And they might even be able to afford a pink plastic one for Sundays!

About that time, the patient cottoned on that this was a prank.

Dad and his friends managed to duck out before the bedpan hit them.

Hopefully, Those Weeks Just Flu By
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, MEDICAL OFFICE, PATIENTS, USA | HEALTHY | JUNE 26, 2020
My sister and I vacation together in Florida, and we come back sick as dogs. We’re both sneezing and coughing uncontrollably plus feverish chills, but mine’s worse. I get so bad that I lose control of my body so I soil myself, clumps of my hair fall out, and I have hallucinations of shadowy figures. I’m naturally fat but I can’t eat, so my stomach caves in. I drool uncontrollably the time, and I get an earache so bad that I can’t hear anything. Plus, my eyes puff up so much that I can’t see either. Ever been deaf and blind? It’s NOT fun.

I figure I got a bad flu, but it’s never been like this, so I figure I have the flu AND maybe something else. Finally, weeks later, I go the see a doctor, I’ve no insurance but I’m desperate for relief. Over-the-counter medicine does nothing.

I tell the doctor everything, and he runs tests. Flu: negative. Strep throat: negative. Pneumonia: negative.

Doctor: “It must be bronchitis. A mild case of it.”

Me: “A mild case? If this is mild, I don’t want to ever experience a severe case!”

He gave me a prescription for my cough. My sister went, too, and she got a flu diagnosis. She still blames me for giving it to her, even though I told her I didn’t! I lost twenty-five pounds at least.

No Particular Emphasis On “Assisted” Living
ASSISTED LIVING, CALIFORNIA, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, NON-DIALOGUE, NURSES, STUPID, USA | HEALTHY | JUNE 24, 2020
A few years ago, I — a sixty-four-year-old male — had a bad bicycle accident. The damages included a concussion, broken right collarbone, broken right elbow, four broken ribs on my right side, and three fractures in my left pelvis; if you can explain the physics of that, I’m all ears.

Four days in the hospital got me stabilized, but then I needed rehab and was sent to a nursing home. That’s when the fun began.

I was transported to the home at about 6:00 pm. After intake, I struggled for a few hours to find a comfortable position and finally got to sleep, only to be awakened at 11:30 pm (!) to have them take pictures of my bare backside to see if I had bedsores already. Two days later, I was awakened at 4:45 am (!!) because the traveling technician was going to take my blood and wanted to get done early.

I was getting both physical and occupational therapy from the same outsourced company. The routine was to do the PT first at one end of the building and then get wheeled back to my room for the OT. The third day, the occupational therapist was taking me back to my room and one of the physical therapists came with us. The two men were discussing a barbeque they were going to have that weekend.

No problem, except that when we got to my room they stopped in the hallway and talked over me for five minutes. I called out the OT when we were alone; to his credit, he apologized and said that I wasn’t their typical patient, meaning I had no dementia.

I was on a schedule where I was given two assisted showers a week. This wouldn’t have been too bad, except that the home had no air conditioning and we had a heatwave in the nineties the second week. I was waiting for the aide to take me when I noticed five young women hanging around the door to my room. When I asked, they told me they were going to watch my shower as part of their training. I informed them that no, they weren’t, so they waited outside the shower area with my wheelchair.

By that point, I could walk slowly with a cane, so after getting dressed, I limped to my chair with help from the aide. One of the women was standing behind the chair with her hands on the grips. I let go of the cane, grabbed a handrail on the chair, and almost fell on my face as the chair moved out from under me! She hadn’t set the brakes on the wheels and hadn’t held on to the chair. I was lucky there was no damage but it hurt like crazy.

In addition to the therapy for my hip, I needed to wait until the swelling in my broken elbow went down before surgery. When it was ready for the procedure, I went to the hospital having had no food or drink for over twelve hours. I was lying on the gurney about to go into the prep room when I was approached by a young doctor I’d never met. She wanted me to give her permission to perform a “nerve block” on me after the operation. In her telling, this would keep me from feeling pain afterward.

This had not been discussed before, I had no knowledge of what a nerve block entailed, it sounded dangerous, and this person was a total stranger. She was persistent, I’ll give her that, but she finally took the hint when I told her to get the h*** away from me.

The surgery went fine and I had no real discomfort afterward, even to the point where I never filled the prescription for the opioid painkiller I was given. So much for the nerve block. I was not, however, forewarned about another side effect of the anesthesia. It is common that urination is inhibited after the procedure, and by 6:00 pm, I was in real pain.

The nurses’ aides didn’t have the authority to give me a catheter and had to get permission. An hour later, I got my first experience with the process. Then, they took it out. And a few hours later, the pressure built up again.

This time, they didn’t want to put the tube back in; their training said they had to wait four hours. My wife had to yell that she’d take me to the emergency room and file charges against them before they fixed the problem. This time they left it in, and by the following evening, the plumbing worked.

As to the home itself, my stay confirmed my fear of the places, even without a contagion situation. Most of the other long-term residents had some degree of dementia and there was lots of moaning and shouting at all hours. And the food was just as bland as the stereotype; luckily, my wife brought me meals a couple of times a day — including the occasional illicit cold beer.

I got out three days after the elbow surgery and was able to navigate my house, including the stairs, immediately. In another week, I rarely used the cane and have a story for my grandkids.

Don’t Bypass The Signs
BELGIUM, COWORKERS, HEALTH & BODY, OFFICE, STUPID | HEALTHY | JUNE 21, 2020
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

I’m sitting across from [Coworker #1 ] and [Coworker #2 ] comes up to him.

Coworker #2 : “I need you to drive [Coworker #3 ] home; he is not feeling well. He has chest paint, is short of breath, his left arm hurts…”

Basically, insert all symptoms of a heart attack here.

Me: *A bit incredulously* “I’m no doctor, but that sounds as if he needs to go to the ER instead of home.”

Coworker #1 : *Looks at me assessingly* “I think [My Name] is right. He needs a doctor.”

Coworker #2 : “No, no, he wants to go home.”

[Coworker #1 ] went to check on [Coworker #3 ] and I saw them leaving. An hour later, [Coworker #3 ] was on the operating table, having a triple bypass.

Some Doctors Have Their Heads Up Their… Well, You Know
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, MEDICAL OFFICE, USA | HEALTHY | JUNE 20, 2020
TMI warning! I have severe rectal bleeding. As a woman, it’s extremely hard to get care for it.

Several Doctors: “Are you sure the blood isn’t from your period?”

Doctor #1 : “One drop of blood can make the whole bowel look red.”

Doctor #2 : “The surgery is painful, and you’re so young! Why put you through unnecessary risk?”

Doctor #3 : “Most women are anemic. I wouldn’t worry about it. Just gain a little weight.”

Doctor #4 : “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you say.”

Female Doctor #1 : “That sounds awful! I just need to check a simple thing, and then I can recommend you for surgery.”

A Vampire Has Better Bedside Manner
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, FLORIDA, JERK, MEDICAL OFFICE, NURSES, USA | HEALTHY | JUNE 19, 2020
As part of my work’s health insurance, all employees need to get basic blood work done each year. It’s a minor inconvenience, and it’s fully paid for by the company. However, I have a bad needle phobia. The year before last, my best friend came with me so I could hold his hand. Last year, I decided to go alone, since I was going to the same phlebotomist and she was very nice, but I ended up having a low-key panic attack and tremors for the rest of the day regardless.

This year, I go to a new clinic and need a bit more blood drawn for my personal doctor, so my best friend thankfully agrees to let me crush his hand again. We’re seen to quickly enough and go into the room to wait. Then, the phlebotomist enters and the trouble starts.

My friend is sitting on my right side and has his phone and earbuds out so he can distract me with silly videos. The phlebotomist — who entered from the door on my left, mind — crosses over to my right side and looks down at him.

Phlebotomist: “You need to move.”

Me: “Sorry, I’m actually more comfortable having my blood drawn from my left arm. I have a severe needle phobia and tend to tense up.”

She just huffs and moves to my left. She ties the rubber cuff around my arm VERY TIGHTLY and I feel my fingers start to tingle and throb in a matter of seconds, so I reach over to loosen it just a little bit.

Phlebotomist: “Don’t touch that!”

Me: “It was too tight! My hand was going numb!”

She huffs again and then comes up to my side and grabs my arm. I immediately jerk forward and tense up, and the phlebotomist pushes me back against the chair.

Phlebotomist: “You need to stay still or I’m going to hurt you.”

I was so keyed up I could only whimper, so I squeezed my friend’s hand for all it was worth after he passed me the earbuds and started playing a video that I think had cats being cute or something.

The phlebotomist stuck me and I whimpered some more while my leg bounced with nervous energy. I heard her tutting over the noise of the video, like I was some rambunctious child, and the draw felt like it took forever. Eventually, all the vials were filled and the phlebotomist dismissed us with the scowl she’d had on the entire time.

My friend had to lead me out of the clinic, as I was dizzy from stress by that point, and it took a good few minutes for him to bring me down enough to be safe to drive home.

People like that phlebotomist are part of the reason I developed this phobia in the first place, and she certainly did her part to make sure I don’t conquer it any time soon!

Crappy Vision Leads To Crappy Situations
CANADA, HEALTH & BODY, NON-DIALOGUE, OPTOMETRIST/OPTICIAN, PATIENTS, REVOLTING | HEALTHY | JUNE 18, 2020
I work at a specialty ophthalmologist clinic. Patients, who are often already visually impaired, often see worse than they usually do right after their appointment, especially if they’ve had their eyes dilated or had treatment.

We have an older patient population, as well, and unfortunate bathroom explosions are prone to happen from time to time, although thankfully they’re usually confined to the bathroom stalls.

One day, a patient comes to check out with me and is mumbling about needing directions and how they’re not able to see well. I lead them to the elevator — assuming she is leaving after her appointment — and as the doors open, she says, “Is this the toilet?”

“Oh, no, no!” I exclaim and lead her the proper way to the bathrooms, picturing the disaster we could have had on our hands.

Some Doctors Should Be Dislocated From Their Professions
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, GYM, HOSPITAL, LAZY/UNHELPFUL, MIDDLE SCHOOL, USA, WASHINGTON | HEALTHY | JUNE 17, 2020
When I am in middle school, I do gymnastics through the school. During the last meet of my last year at the school, I dislocate my shoulder doing a cartwheel while I am warming up. Looking back, this is all pretty hilarious. At the time, not so much.

I’m slightly in shock but I know something’s wrong. I’m crumpled against the practice beam.

Me: “[Coach], [Coach]!”

My coach was watching the current student perform her routine and thought I just had questions, so she’s shushing me. Up in the stands, my mom saw me fall but thought that I’d just bumped the beam when I went down.

Mom: *Jokingly to a family friend* “I know she’s had worse. She just needs to shake it off; she’ll be fine.”

Back on the floor, a couple of teammates and one of the other coaches have realized that there’s a problem. They get me upright and the coach signals my mom to get down to the floor. By this time, the initial shock has worn off and I’m in massive amounts of pain — when my shoulder dislocates, my arm gains about three inches in length and what feels like 1000 pounds — so there is some minor crying going on on my part. My mom gets into the locker room, gets a hold of my dad, and tells him to stay in the car because we need to get to urgent care.

We get ice on my shoulder and my mom uses an ace bandage to immobilize things and we get in the car. We get down to urgent care and I remember this guy who sees me and lets me go ahead of him — not sure what his issue was, but thank you so much for letting the screaming and crying teenager jump the line!

We get into the exam room and the doctor comes in and starts examining things. Keep in mind that, A, I’m in a gymnastics leotard and, B, there’s a noticeable divot at my shoulder. He starts poking where my shoulder is supposed to be and asking if it hurts. At that point, not really, and I tell him so. He then starts probing my arm and gets to where my shoulder actually is, and of course, there’s a ton more pain and I tell him so.

The doctor looks up at both my parents.

Doctor: “So, this isn’t a dislocation; she’s broken her humerus. I’m going to order X-rays to be sure, and then we’ll get this fixed.”

Both my parents just stare at him, because it’s obvious that it’s a dislocation. Honestly, my dad was a medic when he was in the army, but the only reason he didn’t reduce my shoulder himself was that he didn’t want to risk something getting pinched. The X-rays get developed, and what do you know, my shoulder is dislocated.

Doctor: “Well, uh, I’m going to send you to the ER. They’ll have better drugs to give her. We’ll give her something to help for now and call ahead to get you guys checked in.”

A nurse comes in and gives me a shot of Demerol — I think; it might have been Dilaudid — and then we’re off to the ER. We get to the ER and they get us checked in, get vitals, and give me the exact same dose of Demerol. Then, they get me into a waiting gurney in the hallway.

We wait there for a while — I don’t remember much of it because I was so drugged up — but my mom finally goes out and asks what’s going on, so then they move me to a bed behind a curtain. I get hooked up to monitors and then to morphine, as well.

Looking back, there were an awful lot of drugs onboard that night. Again, hindsight humor: I thought I was asleep 90% of the time, but apparently, I wasn’t; my parents never mentioned if I said anything weird, but I’m sure I was entertaining.

There is more waiting and my mom finally goes out to the nurses’ station where they are just hanging around.

Mom: “Hi. Excuse me. Could we get some assistance back here? I know this probably isn’t exactly a high priority, but my daughter is fourteen and in pain and a little scared. Can someone please take a look?”

There was a flurry of activity and, within a few minutes, my shoulder was reduced. The doctor then had to pin me to the bed because I immediately tried to put my arms over my head. I suddenly felt better; why wouldn’t I try to use my arm?

My mom called urgent care a few days later to complain about the doctor we’d seen there and it turns out the guy was an allergist! He’d been covering the on-call because they’d had to make a run to help a patient. Mom thinks he was just scared to reduce it which is why he’d sent us to the ER.

A Birthday Balm For Your Birthday Break
AWESOME, DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, HOSPITAL, NURSES, OREGON, USA | HEALTHY | JUNE 16, 2020
I have just fractured my wrist for the third time. Just for you curious people, I was rollerskating and I fell backward and landed on it. We get to the ER and, lo and behold, the same ER doctor that assisted us last time is the one assisting us now, so my parents chat and catch up a bit while the ER doctor examines my wrist.

Then, this conversation happens. It is the seventh of December.

ER Doctor: *After asking some questions* “So, when is your birthday?”

Me: *Eyeroll* “The fourteenth of December.”

ER Doctor: “Oh, happy early birthday!”

Me: “Thanks.”

I’m thinking that my party is tomorrow and requires some physical work and I am just worried I can’t do it. They confirm that my wrist is broken with X-rays and such, and all I want to do is go home, but they still have to put a cast on my wrist.

All of a sudden, some nurses come in, and they have some little presents with them: a toy car, a lavender chapstick, and some other goodies.

Nurses: “We heard it was your birthday next week and we thought we could start it off with some little presents.”

My Parents & Me: “Oh, my goodness, thank you so much!”

I was so happy I just sat there, shocked.

I still have the lip balm to this day, and it just reminds me how awesome nurses and healthcare people can be. They literally took time out of their day just to make a sad almost-fourteen-year-old happy.

The Cat’s Meow Isn’t Worse Than Its Bite
AUSTRALIA, HOSPITAL, NON-DIALOGUE, PATIENTS, PETS & ANIMALS, QUEENSLAND | HEALTHY | JUNE 15, 2020
I consider myself a bit of a medical disaster; if something goes wrong, it does so in the most spectacular or strange manner.

This story begins the day before I head to the ER. My indoor cat makes a mad dash for the front door while I am taking rubbish out and disappears for a few minutes. As he is a black cat, and it is 1:00 am, he’s practically invisible.

His presence is made known when he starts getting his a** handed to him by a cat half his size across the road. I sigh, knowing that separating them will get me scratched up, but as a lifelong cat owner, I decide it’s worth it just to get him safely indoors.

What I am not expecting is my cat latching onto my hand, violently. He bites my hand and digs his claws up my arm! I get him back home and begin to clean the wound. It’s deep, but not bad enough for me to realise it needs medical attention. It’s late at night but I wake my parents to let them know what’s happened because I know how dangerous cat bites can be. With copious amounts of disinfectant, and closing up the most suspect scratches, I head to bed.

During my shift at work the next day, it becomes apparent it needs further attention. I get out of my shift at 9:00 pm, call a nurse hotline, and am told that I really need to be at the hospital within twenty-four hours of the initial bite. Off to the ER I go, much at the dismay of my parents. They’re convinced I’ll be given a prescription of antibiotics and sent home.

Funnily enough, the reception nurse is a lady I assisted at work during the day, and we have a chat while waiting for the doctor. She asks me to take the bandage off my hand, and her face falls. I haven’t really looked at it for a few hours, but it has clearly swollen to almost twice the size of my other hand.

I get taken out back, but there are no beds available. I apologise for taking up valuable time and resources, but they say that they trust my judgment and that it was the right call to come in. The doctor finally makes it in and starts preparing me for an IV. I’m kind of shocked because at this stage I was still just expecting them to clean it and send me home with a prescription. I call my dad, who has been sitting in the car waiting for this “inevitable” outcome, but when he sees the situation, he is shocked, too.

I have terrible veins, which is great fun for all the blood tests I’ve needed in my time. They try to get one into my left arm, the one without injury, and fail. I’m informed it’s really against all best interests to have the injured arm stuck, but they have to go for it anyway. I receive the first round of antibiotics, and some painkillers, too. I’m asked when my last tetanus shot was. I think for a second, and then laugh.

My last tetanus shot was in 2012 when I was hospitalised… for a cat bite that pierced a hole through my skull! (Different cat!)

I’m admitted overnight and placed in the children’s ward, despite being an adult, as they really need to monitor my situation. I also need my arm suspended above my head, which is very uncomfortable with the attached drip. A sleepless night ensues.

The next day, as I’m about to be discharged, four rounds of antibiotics later, I hear the doctor speaking to the patient in the bed beside me. He mentions an animal bite, and I think that he may have the wrong patient.

Nope! The lady beside me, who was admitted mere minutes before me, is there for a snake bite! We end up laughing over it and realise that my situation is actually worse; I am genuinely at risk of losing my hand, but Snake Bite Lady is comparatively fine!

Although I now have a few scars up my hand and arm, it was almost worth the pain when the hilarity of the situation hit realising that my house cat bite was worse than a venomous snake bite!

The Babyface Will Get You Every Time
EMPLOYEES, JERK, PHARMACY, USA | HEALTHY | JUNE 14, 2020
I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder as a pre-teen and have been on meds ever since. I’m in my late twenties but have a babyface.

My doctor has just called in a new prescription for me, as I’ve run out of refills. I’m at the pharmacy and the tech has just brought up my meds.

Tech: “Oh, this is a new prescription. You have to do a consult with the pharmacist.”

Me: “That’s not necessary. I’ve been taking this for a long time.”

Tech: “He wants to speak with you. There’s a note here. I’ll be right back.”

He calls the pharmacist, an older man, over. He gives me a look and starts talking to me in a very patronizing tone.

Pharmacist: “Okay, [My Name]. Now, for [Medicine], you have to take this every day. You can’t skip this. Okay? Do you understand? Because—”

Me: “I’m going to stop you right there. I’ve had [Autoimmune Disorder] for fifteen years and have been taking daily meds for it that entire time. I know exactly what [Medicine] does and how sick I get if I don’t take it.”

Pharmacist: “But this is listed as a new prescription. You haven’t taken this before.”

Me: “Yes, I have. I ran out of refills and my doctor called in a new one. I’ve been on the same dosage for years. Check my fill history. Why do I need a consult, anyway? I’ve never needed one before.”

Pharmacist: “Um… [Tech] will get you rung up now.”

He exited. I didn’t see that pharmacist after that.

Like Taking Candy From A Baby… Or Not…
COLORADO, FUNNY KIDS, HOSPITAL, NON-DIALOGUE, PATIENTS, USA | HEALTHY | JUNE 13, 2020
While still an infant, I contract rotavirus, an illness that causes severe diarrhea.

In my case, the sickness is severe enough that eating or drinking causes almost immediate diarrhea. I’m taken to the hospital and put on an IV for fluid and nutrients.

I’m absolutely miserable and desperately want something to eat, but I’m not allowed anything to avoid further irritation of my bowels. To try and calm me down, I’m given an empty bottle to suck on.

At one point, a nurse comes in to check on the IV. As she’s adjusting it, I hold up my empty bottle to her and start whining for her to fill it. The nurse takes the bottle and pretends to fill it from the IV and hands it back. I start sucking only to realize I’ve been deceived.

As my mom tells it, I proceed to chuck the bottle across the room in protest.

That’s Generally Uncomfortable…
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, HOSPITAL, INDIANA, JERK, NURSES, USA | HEALTHY | JUNE 7, 2020
I’m getting a vasectomy, and my doctor asks if I want a local or general anesthetic. Since I have problems with general anesthetics, I opt for the local.

After supposedly numbing the target area, he begins the procedure.

Doctor: “Let me know if you feel anything.”

Me: “I can feel that!”

Doctor: “You were the one that opted for a local anesthetic!”

Me: “You were the one that said to tell you if I felt anything!!”

The next day, a stitch popped and I had some very minor bleeding. I gave his office a call because, you know, that doesn’t seem like something that’s supposed to happen. The nurse said, “Well, that’s what they do!”

This doctor had a history of being jerky, but my philosophy at the time was “better the devil you know…”

So Much For Birth Control
BIZARRE, FAMILY & KIDS, GERMANY, HOSPITAL, PATIENTS | HEALTHY | JUNE 6, 2020
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

I’m a doctor working at the surgical emergency ward on a calm Saturday afternoon when a very large woman is brought in via ambulance. I’m wrapping up my last case at the computer but can hear her wailing from behind her curtain; we, unfortunately, don’t have separate rooms.

Another surgeon is with her within minutes.

Doctor: “All right, I’ve heard you called an ambulance for abdominal pain. Have you experienced similar symptoms before?”

Patient: “No! Help! Please, do something!”

Doctor: “Sure, give me just a minute. I need to find out the cause of your pain first to give you the right medication. Could you describe your symptoms a bit more in detail?”

Patient: “I have these cramps. They started early this morning and keep getting worse! Sometimes it’s a bit better but it keeps coming back! Oh, please do something!”

The doctor puts a hand on her belly, frowns, and then looks at her sharply.

Doctor: “Ma’am, is it possible that you’re pregnant?”

Patient: “Aaauuuugh! Ah… No… I don’t think so? I didn’t get my period for some time due to stress…”

The doctor motions for a nurse to get him an ultrasound.

Doctor: “Ma’am, when was your last period?”

Patient: *Winces* “I don’t know? Some months ago… December? No, earlier, I think.”

The nurse comes back with the ultrasound and the doctor finishes his examination. When he puts the probe on her belly…

Doctor: “Wow. I don’t usually get to see this, but it’s quite clear. See here? This is a head, and there’s the spine. With the periodic contractions you’re describing, I’m fairly sure you’re in labour.”

Patient: “What?! No! I can’t!”

Doctor: “Oh. I’m sorry; it seems I was wrong.”

Patient: “Praise the Lord. Don’t scare me like that!”

Doctor: “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. There’s another head. It’s twins.” *To the nurse* “Please inform the gynecologists and call a transport to get her to the labour room.”

Patient: “Noooooooooooo!” *Screams unintelligibly*

Not even half an hour later, we got a call from the gynecologists. It was two healthy babies, seemingly on term, and which blood tests did we already order?

I’m glad they were delivered safely and healthily, but judging by their mom’s reaction to her pregnancy… I can’t help but worry for their future.

Might Be Time To Change Doctors
DOCTOR/PHYSICIAN, GRAND RAPIDS, MEDICAL OFFICE, MICHIGAN, PARENTS/GUARDIANS, USA | HEALTHY | MAY 31, 2020
I work for a doctor’s emergency answering service. A frantic woman calls in at three am.

Me: “Hello, [Service].”

Woman: “I need [Doctor] to call me ASAP! My son has swallowed a nickel!”

Me: “Certainly. Just let me get some information and I’ll have [Doctor] call you right back.”

The woman gives me all the pertinent info. I call [Doctor] and wake him up from a very obvious sound sleep.

Me: “Sorry to wake you, [Doctor]. I’ve got a call from [Woman]; she says her son has swallowed a nickel.”

There’s a five-second pause.

Doctor: “So, is he choking or does she want me to make change?”