Sả là một gia vị được nhân ta dùng phổ biến, đồng thời cũng là một cây thuốc chữa bệnh và trừ côn trùng tốt.
Sả là loại cây thảo sống dai, cao khoảng 1m, mọc thành bụi (tên khoa học là Cymbopogon Citratus (L.) Pers.), thuộc họ lúa (Poaceae). Củ sả là một gia vị được dùng trong chế biến nhiều món ăn, chủ yếu là để kích thích tiêu hoá, khử được mùi tanh của cá, thịt, giúp thức ăn thêm thơm ngon.
Theo Đông y, sả vị the, mùi thơm, tính ấm, có tác dụng làm ra mồ hôi, thông tiểu tiện và tiêu thực. Sả được dùng chủ yếu làm thuốc chữa cảm sốt, đầy bụng, tiêu chảy...
Liều lượng mỗi ngày 8 - 12g lá và củ sả dưới dạng thuốc xông hay thuốc hãm. Phổ biến nhất là nồi nước xông lá sả phối hợp với một số lá khác như lá tre, lá cúc tần, lá bưởi, lá tía tô. cây ngãi cứu.. mỗi thứ một nắm, đem nấu nước xông cho ra mồ hôi để chữa cảm sốt, nhức đầu.
Tác dụng chính của sả là ở tinh dầu. Trong lá sả có tinh dầu, thành phần chủ yếu là geraniola và citronelola. Vì vậy, khi ta vò lá sả thấy có một mùi thơm đặc biệt phảng phất mùi thơm của chanh.
Tinh dầu sả bôi lên da hoặc phun trong nhà có thể xua đuổi được ruồi, muỗi và các loài côn trùng khác như dĩn, bọ chét... do đó thường được dùng làm thuốc trừ muỗi và khử mùi hôi.
Phụ nữ cũng thường nấu nước lá sả để gội đầu cho trơn tóc, sạch gầu và có thể tránh được một số bệnh về tóc.
Ngoài ra, củ sả và tinh dầu sả còn dùng để chữa một số bệnh thông thường như : Lấy 3 - 6 giọt tinh dầu sả pha với xi-rô và nước, cho bệnh nhân uống để chữa đau bụng, đầy bụng, chống nôn và thông trung tiện. hoặc thái cũ sã đem ngâm rượu đễ dành khi đau bụng gió uống 1 li nhỏ
Colorado, Crazy Requests, Hospital, USA | Healthy | November 25, 2018
(I work in the physical therapy department inside of a hospital. I get a call.)
Me: “Thank you for calling [Physical Therapy]. How may I help you?”
Caller: “Yeah. I don’t feel good. Can I take tamiflu?”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ve reached the physical therapy department.”
Caller: “I KNOW THAT! CAN I TAKE TAMIFLU?”
Me: “Ma’am, our therapists do not give out medical advice regarding medications. Is there another department I can transfer you to, or a doctor’s office?”
Caller: “Yeah, give me Eric.”
Me: “Eric who? Where does he work?”
Caller: “YOU KNOW! ERIC!”
(I have no idea why she thought she should call the physical therapy department to see if she should take tamiflu! And who the heck is Eric?!)
China, Hospital, Language & Words, Nurses | Healthy | November 23, 2018
(I am about eight years old when my family and I relocate to China for a year. Despite my Chinese heritage, I was born and raised elsewhere, so English is my first language, whereas I tend to struggle with Chinese. In that year, I fall sick enough to warrant a week-long stay at the nearest hospital. My mother and my grandmother accompany me in the daytime to take care of me as well as talk to the nurses and doctors on my behalf. When I’m alone, however, my sole form of entertainment is the TV in the room, which I leave on the only English-speaking channel they have. None of us think much about it until my mom comes in one morning and happens upon two nurses conversing outside my room.)
Nurse #1 : “That little girl, she doesn’t talk much when I ask her questions, but she is so focused when it comes to [English channel] on TV. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s all she’s been watching since she got here!”
Nurse #2 : “Wow! She’s that dedicated to learning English and keeping up with school, even though she’s this sick? What a studious girl!”
(And that’s how I inadvertently impressed a couple of nurses by lazing around in bed all day watching the telly.)
Australia, Brisbane, Extra Stupid, Friends, Hospital, Queensland | Healthy | November 21, 2018
(I have just had to rush my daughter to the hospital with a heart-related issue. I call my husband and send a text to friends that I am supposed to be going out with that evening. One friend isn’t always with it.)
Me: “Sorry, I am stuck in hospital with [Daughter]; she has a heartbeat of 204 bpm and they are trying to stabilise it.”
Friend: “So, what time will you be here?”
Me: “I can’t come.”
Friend: “Why not? You still have two hours before we leave.”
Me: “Because [Daughter] is in hospital and I won’t leave her.”
Friend: “Oh, is 204 bpm bad?”
Me: “204 beats a minute? Yes, it’s bad.”
Friend: “Oh, I didn’t know you meant per minute.”
(She did wish us well, and our daughter’s heart rate was brought down, though she needs lifelong medication to keep it there
Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Non-Dialogue, USA | Healthy | November 19, 2018
This story occurs over a four-year span. It begins the year when I was in the first grade, and my sister was in the fourth grade, in the summer.
My sister and I were walking our dogs outside with our mom. My sister happened to get tugged by the dog she was walking and “sprained” her ankle in a ditch. She hurt it bad enough that she and Mom went to the hospital, but not until after she took a shower; our mom was very insistent on her showering first. The doctor diagnosed it as a sprained ankle.
For the next four years, until she was in eighth grade, she had intense pain with her ankle and foot in general. They decided to take her to a hospital again, with a different doctor.
It turns out, for the past four years, her ankle had been broken the entire time, and was left untreated.
The next few years were spent with her receiving surgery for the ankle, growing bones in her foot and having them removed, and physical therapy.
She’s now a junior in college, and doesn’t have as much trouble with her foot anymore, except when she exercises excessively.
I’m still annoyed with the doctor who didn’t find it out the first time around and let my sister suffer for four years.
Clinic, Medication, USA, Washington | Healthy Right | November 17, 2018
(I am a medical assistant in a family medicine clinic. We often have difficulty with refills for patients, but this was a memorable one. Note: the patient is elderly so I was trying to be really patient and understanding!)
Me: “Thank you for calling [Clinic]. How may I help you?”
Patient: “I need to find out which medications Dr. [Name] refilled at my last appointment.”
Me: “It looks she filled two: [Medication #1 ] was sent to your mail order pharmacy, and [Medication #2 ] was sent to your local pharmacy.”
Patient: “I didn’t need [Medication #1 ] refilled!”
Me: “I am sorry about that. Which medications are you needing refilled today?”
Patient: “All of them.”
(I start to go through her list.)
Me: “How about [Medication #3]?”
Patient: “I don’t need that one.”
Me: “How about [Medication #4]?”
Patient: “I don’t need that one, either.”
(This repeats several times.)
Patient: “I just need the ones I take regularly.”
Me: “Well, you only have two medications that you take daily, and [Medication #1 ] was filled last month. Are you needing [Medication #5 ]? I can refill that for you, though our records show you should have about ten months of refills at your mail order pharmacy.”
Patient: “I don’t know what that is. Just fill all of them for me!”
Me: “I don’t know which ones you are needing; it looks like you have refills on all of your regular medications.”
Patient: “Just ask Dr. [Name]. She’ll know what I need.”
Me: “I have your list in front of me, she won’t know more about what you need refilled than I do.”
Patient: “I’m trying to bake a pie. Just call me when you figure it out.”
Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry but I don’t know how to help you as I’m not sure what you need.”
Patient: “Fine, I’ll call you back later. Try to figure it out for me.”
(This was one time, that while frustrating, I actually felt really bad that I couldn’t help her! She wasn’t particularly rude, just confused.)
Man Who Encases His Privates In Lead Has The Last Laugh
Awesome, Hospital, Los Angeles, Non-Dialogue, Patients, Pranks, Silly, USA | Healthy | November 16, 2018
I had testicular cancer and surgery, plus radiation therapy. These treatments needed a lead box closed around my privates. At the end of the last treatment, when the nurse pulled my sheet off to remove the box, he found…
A popped-out single-use turkey thermometer indicating I was done. I had saved it from the Thanksgiving turkey just to place in my navel after the treatment.
He had to run from the room before bursting into laughter.
Inspirational, Roundups | Friendly Healthy Learning Legal Related Right Romantic Working | November 12, 2018
Many of us here at Not Always Right grew up with the marvelous comic creations of Stan Lee, and we were all sad to hear of his passing. In tribute to his amazing legacy, we have rounded up some stories from the archives that show we are not alone in being touched by prolific and creative energy.
Photo credit: Fort Greene Focus on VisualHunt / CC BY-ND
The Jean-Grey To My Scott Summers – True love can blossom in comic conundrums.
The Jean-Grey To My Scott Summers, Part 2 – True love can also blossom in comic confrontations!
Generation X – Stan’s creativity has allowed many children to think outside the box.
Granola Bars, High In Iron, Gamma Rays, And Vibranium – For well-behaved children, the reward is Marvel!
The Stark Truth Shall Set You Free – Marvel’s output gets biblical in its complexity.
Got The Avengers Nailed – Who said comics are just for boys?
Your Friendly Neighborhood Customer Service – The secret identity to a child’s happiness.
The Infinity Aisle – With great power comes a great work ethic!
Made Contact With The X-Men – A child’s wonder is one of the best things that come from comics.
The Black Widow To My Hawkeye – DC? Eww!
A Thort-ful Child, Part 2 – Stan Lee, we were Loki to have you
Crazy Requests, Health & Body, Ignoring & Inattentive, Missouri, Public Transport, USA | Healthy | November 11, 2018
(I have just gotten off of work at a hospital and am waiting for a bus at a nearby bus station. I am wearing my uniform with the hospital’s name on it, and my ID badge which clearly says, “Culinary Services.”)
Driver: “Oh, do you work at [Hospital]?”
Me: “Yep.”
Driver: “Are you a nurse?”
Me: *laughing, pointing at my department on my ID* “No, I serve food.”
Driver: “Oh, well, I been having this problem every morning when I wake up; my chest hurts and I’m coughing.”
(She continues on, describing her symptoms in detail, including the color of her mucus. She swears she feels well otherwise, but mentions she was sick with flu-like symptoms earlier in the week.)
Me: *uncomfortable* “Well, that sucks.”
Driver: “What do you think it could be?”
Me: *my bus pulls up* “If I had to give my honest opinion, I’d say you have an URI from being sick earlier in the week. However, as I said, I’m not a medical professional, and you should probably see an actual doctor. [Hospital] has a clinic; I suggest going there.”
All-Bagel Diet Proven Unhealthy, But Not For The Reasons You Might Think
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Jerk, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | November 10, 2018
(I’ve struggled with disordered eating since I was fairly young; it flares up any time I get stressed and can last anywhere from just a few days to as long as a year. People who learn about my issues with food rarely take them seriously because I am overweight; I’m 5’5”, about 165 pounds, and a US size 12. At the time of this story I have been in college for about a year and am in the middle of a rough patch, and I decide to go to the university health center to seek help.)
Me: “I think I might have an eating disorder. Whenever I’m experiencing a lot of stress, I stop eating and spend all of my time in the gym.”
Doctor: *laughs* “I wish I had that problem! When I’m stressed, I head straight for the cookies! So, what brings you in here today?”
Me: “Uh… That’s why I’m here. I’m worried that I might have a problem because I starve myself.”
Doctor: *laughing again* “I hardly think you need to worry about that! A little less food and a little more exercise can only do you good!”
Me: “I… Are you sure? I mean, I’ve eaten two bagels in the last week.”
Doctor: “See, that’s your real problem! Carbs go straight to your gut, you know.”
Me: “I don’t think you understand; all I’ve eaten in the past seven days is two bagels. I tried to eat a sandwich yesterday, but I got so anxious I couldn’t swallow. I really think something is wrong.”
Doctor: “Well, if I were you, I’d try the Keto diet. It works great, and you’ll be in shape in no time!”
(I gave up then and asked her about some bruising on my limbs, for which she recommended iron supplements and weight loss. Fortunately, my roommate noticed my disordered eating a few days later and put me in touch with a local counseling clinic, where I got some actual help.)
Extra Stupid, Health & Body, Patients, Tennessee, USA, Vet | Healthy | November 9, 2018
(I work for a 24-hour emergency vet. It’s about one am; I usually get strange calls at this time of night.)
Client: “Hi. I was putting some flea medication on my dog and I think I’m having a reaction to it.”
Me: *thinking I misheard her* “Oh, he’s having a reaction to it?”
Client: “No, I am! My hands are breaking out, and I think my throat is getting tight.”
Me: “Oh! I’m sorry; you’ve called an animal emergency hospital!”
Client: “I know. You guys know what I need to take to fix it right?”
Me: “No, ma’am, you need to call 911 or go to your local emergency room; we only treat pets here.”
Client: “Well, that’s okay. If you guys treat pets, you know what I can take, right? I really wasn’t planning on going anywhere tonight; just tell me what medication you give to pets and I’ll just take a larger dose of it.”
Me: “Ma’am… I’m sorry, but we can’t give medication advice over the phone for pets, and we definitely can’t for people! You need to call 911 or go to the emergency room!”
Client: “You’re just being no help. Do you have a number I can call a different animal hospital? I don’t have Internet, so I can’t look up anything.”
Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t give you another number for an animal hospital that’s open right now, but I would gladly give you directions to the emergency room closest to you! You definitely need to go to a hospital for people if you’re having a reaction, not animal hospitals.”
Client: “Fine, y’all are just no help! You know, you really should give better advice to people when they call; you are a hospital, you know! I guess I’ll just have to go to the hospital down the road and see if they can help me. I’m never calling you again!” *click*
(I was so mind-blown I had to sit and collect myself for a few minutes. She sounded like a normal, middle-aged woman, so I hope it was a prank call, but unfortunately I don’t think it was.)
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | November 6, 2018
(I give birth to my son, and through some great support from my local breastfeeding support group, I’m able to successfully breastfeed him without supplementing with formula. When he is eight months old, I visit the paediatrician for a check-up.)
Doctor: “What formula does he have?”
Me: “He is breastfed.”
Doctor: “What milk does he have?”
Me: “Breast milk.”
Doctor: *sighing irritably* “WHAT FORMULA DOES HE HAVE?”
Me: *confused* “He doesn’t drink formula; he is breastfed.”
Doctor: “Okay, okay. What follow-on milk does he have?”
Me: “He doesn’t; he drinks breast-milk.”
Doctor: *glares at me as if I’m being difficult* “What… yogurt-y drinks does he have?”
Me: “HE… IS… EXCLUSIVELY… BREASTFED!”
(The doctor slammed the notes shut with irritation, and then blinked at me when he realised my son had been feeding this whole time!)
Doctor/Physician, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, UK | Healthy | November 6, 2018
(I give birth to my son, and through some great support from my local breastfeeding support group, I’m able to successfully breastfeed him without supplementing with formula. When he is eight months old, I visit the paediatrician for a check-up.)
Doctor: “What formula does he have?”
Me: “He is breastfed.”
Doctor: “What milk does he have?”
Me: “Breast milk.”
Doctor: *sighing irritably* “WHAT FORMULA DOES HE HAVE?”
Me: *confused* “He doesn’t drink formula; he is breastfed.”
Doctor: “Okay, okay. What follow-on milk does he have?”
Me: “He doesn’t; he drinks breast-milk.”
Doctor: *glares at me as if I’m being difficult* “What… yogurt-y drinks does he have?”
Me: “HE… IS… EXCLUSIVELY… BREASTFED!”
(The doctor slammed the notes shut with irritation, and then blinked at me when he realised my son had been feeding this whole time!)
Doctor/Physician, England, Hospital, Patients, Punny, Silly, UK | Healthy | November 1, 2018
(I have been diagnosed with testicular cancer and will have to have one of my testicles removed. I am meeting with the consultant who has run a few tests and has now given me the date of the surgery: the following Monday. It has been a bit of a bureaucratic nightmare to get this point.)
Consultant: “And I’m sorry again that it has taken so long to get to this point, but now that we’ve got the ball rolling—”
Me: *grinning* “Pun intended?”
(The consultant realised what he said, and both he and the nurse laughed. Later he told me he’d had other cancer patients that day who had — understandably — been very upset, and it was nice to see someone dealing with it with humour. The surgery has gone well and I’m making a good recovery!)
Atlanta, Children, Georgia, Hospital, Non-Dialogue, Patients, USA | Healthy | October 29, 2018
I have been a part of the Not Always Right community for a few years now. This past year, three of my submitted stories have been published: “With A Mother Like That, Pain Tolerance Is Through The Roof,” “Already Has A Big Baby To Look After,” and “Not The Formula For A Successful Doctor.” For those that aren’t familiar, I went into labor at 29 weeks, and gave birth to a beautiful little girl.
My daughter spent 70 days in the NICU. She was released to come home mid-September, with no extra care other than a multivitamin. She was happy, healthy, and so fiercely loved.
After a month of being home, I woke up at about six in the morning with a sinking feeling. I immediately checked on her in her crib, and she was gasping, struggling to breathe. I woke up my partner, and we were going to rush her to the urgent care down the road. As I was getting in the car with her, she stopped breathing completely and went limp. Her father began performing CPR as the NICU had taught us. I called 911.
A firetruck and couple of cops arrived, and paramedics got out and took over. My partner and I were pulled away and gave statements. After a few minutes, an ambulance showed up, and my baby was loaded in and taken away. One of the paramedics offered me a ride to the hospital, and I took it.
When I arrived at the same hospital where she was born, they had managed to restart her heart. They allowed me to watch and touch her while they hooked her up to machinery, and another nurse kept her breathing with a squeeze bag.
They flew my daughter to Children’s Health Care, one of the best hospitals in the nation; think Ronald McDonald house.
My partner picked me up from the local hospital, and we drove an hour to see her at Children’s. We waited for three hours before a couple of doctors pulled us away into a private room.
They told us that she was stable; however, CPR had been performed for more than 20 minutes before she came back. Without oxygen to the brain for three or four minutes, brain cells begin to die and swell. Our daughter was unresponsive, and the doctor predicted that her heart would stop again, and told us that the merciful thing would be to refuse resuscitation. He gave it a day, maybe hours. We asked for resuscitation, anyway; if there was any chance at all, we’d take it.
My daughter made it through the day, and even through the night. Her heart was beating, but she was on max medication, and a ventilator was breathing for her. She was still unresponsive, but the nurses continued to take care of her — and us. We spent the night on the couch in her room. The nurses were absolutely wonderful.
The next morning, the doctor sat down with us and stated that he believed our 14-week-old baby’s brain was non-functional; she was brain dead.
Later that afternoon, he performed what is called a brain dead test, basically dotting Is and crossing Ts on paperwork. While still supplying oxygen, they turned off the ventilator to watch for a breath; her brain should have sent this signal. Ten minutes went by. She didn’t breathe.
At this point, she couldn’t tolerate the test, and they tried to turn the ventilator back on. Her vitals were too out of whack.
Three months after she entered this world so suddenly, she passed away peacefully in our arms.
We are so thankful to every nurse and paramedic, and everyone that helped to take care of our little girl — and us — through this impossible ordeal. These people are angels sent from heaven. My baby girl will never be forgotten.
We love you, River Madeline. You will always be in our hearts.
Connecticut, Health & Body, Pharmacy, USA | Healthy Right | October 29, 2018
(I’m a pharmacy tech at a chain pharmacy. I’m working the drive-thru. A truck pulls up blaring loud metal music, and the driver is smoking. He does not turn down the music like most people do when at the window, and I’m having a hard time hearing him.)
Customer: “I’m trying to get one prescription. I need the [Brand Antibiotic], but NOT the–” *indecipherable due to the music*
Me: “I’m sorry, which one do you want?”
Customer: *a little louder* “The [Brand Antibiotic].”
(I take down his information into the computer. I have to re-ask several times because of the music, which he still hasn’t turned down. He’s also still smoking, and flicking ash out of the window, ON MY SIDE.)
Me: “There’s only one prescription here.”
Customer: “What?”
Me: *louder* There’s only one prescription.”
Customer: “Is it the [Brand Antibiotic]?”
Me: *still loud* “I will check with the pharmacist.”
(I grab the script, which is NOT an antibiotic. I’ve shut the window to keep the smoke from getting in; the music is loud enough to be heard on the other end of the pharmacy. The pharmacist confirms this is not an antibiotic, but is a specially requested one he’d been calling to transfer over from a different pharmacy.)
Me: “Sir, this is the only one we have.”
(I show him the prescription, so he can see what it is.)
Customer: “Ok, I’ll take it.”
(I finish up the transaction; he pays and drives away. About ten minutes later, he’s back in my lane, blaring the same loud music.)
Customer: “This isn’t the one I requested. I specifically told you NOT to give me this prescription. Where’s the one that the doctor transferred over?”
Me: “This is the only one that was called in.”
Customer: “I’m not taking this prescription anymore. Why was this called in? I want to speak to the manager.”
(The manager is busy. He’s been listening to the customer and is fed up with him. I use this time to double check his profile. There’s still no record of an antibiotic being called in before, during, or after the transaction.)
Me: “Sir, nothing else has been called in.”
Customer: “I don’t want this one. I told you I didn’t want this one.”
(I apologize at least twice, and return his medication, and he drives away, with my ears ringing.)
Manager: “So what happened with [Customer]?”
(I explained the ordeal, and he was obviously annoyed at the customer’s behavior. Less than a half hour later, we received a call from an associate of the customer. The pharmacist, who had had enough of the guy, took the call personally and explained what happened. Still not sure if the guy has gotten the antibiotic yet…)
Atlanta, Bad Behavior, Doctor/Physician, Georgia, Ignoring & Inattentive, Medical Office, USA | Healthy | October 27, 2018
(My daughter is born almost three months early and spends the first ten weeks of her life in the hospital. The day she is born, I start using a breast pump, so that I can take milk to her. Shortly after she comes home, we quickly realize that breastfeeding is an unpleasant experience for both of us, so I decide to continue pumping, but to supplement with formula during the night. It takes three weeks after she gets home, and me jumping through hoops and making phone calls daily, to get her insurance pushed through and active, so I can finally get her to her first pediatric appointment. Because I do not have a running car, I make an appointment at the office just down the road, and my mother is generous enough to drive us there. We arrive about ten minutes before the appointment, but we end up waiting more than half an hour after the scheduled time to be called back. The nurse calls a name that is somewhat similar to my daughter’s, but is incorrect, and is often used as a last name. After she calls the name two or three times, and neither of the other two families in the waiting room move, I ask if she is calling for [Daughter]. She nods and waves her hand and tells us to follow her. Once in an exam room, we wait about another twenty minutes before the doctor comes in.)
Doctor: *not looking up from her paperwork* “So, what formula is she using?”
Me: “None. I currently give her breast milk.”
Doctor: “All breast milk? That’s great!” *goes on about how great it is that my daughter gets exclusively breast milk, and about the benefits of breastfeeding*
Me: “Thanks. I wanted to start giving her formula once in a while, but I’m not sure what kind would be best for her.”
Doctor: “Oh.” *suddenly less enthused* “Okay. So, he’s five months old, right?”
Me: “No. She is three months.”
Doctor: *pulling the blanket down from my daughter’s face* “Cute. Let me wash my hands.”
(I then receive a lecture on germs, about making everyone around my daughter wash their hands, and about not only keeping her away from anyone sick, but just not taking her outside at all or letting her around family. A few minutes later, while examining her
Doctor: “She’s cute. What’s her name?”
Me: “[Daughter].” *internally alarmed because did this doctor not even look at any of the papers*
Doctor: “[Daughter].” *sarcastically* “Hmm. Unique. So, how’s the breast feeding going?”
Me: “I pump, and then we give her a bottle. Since she spent the first two and half mo–”
Doctor: *interrupting me* “She has a suck reflex. She can breastfeed.”
Me: “We’ve tried a few times, but it just hasn’t worked out well. She does better–”
Doctor: *interrupting me again* “She can breastfeed.”
Me: “She falls asleep every few minutes, and I have to wake her up continually.”
Doctor: “That’s fine.”
Me: “After an hour or two of nursing, she still hasn’t had enough to be a meal.”
Doctor: “That’s fine. Just let her keep doing it. It’s good practice.”
Me: “Okay, we will nurse here and there for comfort or a snack between feeds, but I’m struggling with my supply, hence the formula. But for the most part–”
Doctor: *interrupting again, this time very forcefully* “There is no reason not to breastfeed! You need to stop using the pump, and your supply will increase. You don’t need the bottles. She can do it, so do it!”
Me: “Fine.”
Doctor: “Okay. Did the hospital give you a packet about [vaccine]?”
Me: “Yes. It’s in my bag on the chair.”
Doctor: “Get it for me.”
(Keeping my fingertips on my daughter’s leg, I stretch over and grab the packet. As soon as I stand up
Doctor: *scolding* “Don’t do that! Don’t ever do that! Don’t ever turn your back on your baby or look away! That’s how they fall off the table!”
Me: *defeated, flat* “Okay.”
Doctor: “I’m going to prescribe a formula for preemies; it has extra calories. You’ll get it when you go into the WIC office and give them this form.”
(I’m not on WIC, nor have I applied.)
Me: “Okay. Can I get it from a pharmacy? I have a bit of a transportation issue and may not be able to get there for a few days. Is there anything I can give her in the meantime?”
Doctor: *ignoring me* “You can take it there today, or tomorrow, or whenever is convenient.”
Me: “Where is the this office even located?”
Doctor: *waving me off* “Ask the receptionist when you check out. I want you to set up an appointment two weeks from now at our location in [City 30 minutes away] to get her next vaccines; I don’t do shots. Also, I want to see her back here next week so that I can check her weight. Does she have any other follow-up appointments?”
Me: *internally cringing at the thought of seeing this lady again* “Yes. She needs to see an audiologist. I just got the contact information for them yesterday. I was going to call them today, once we left here.”
Doctor: “Call them. She needs to go to that appointment. What about her eyes?”
Me: “She had her eyes looked at earlier this week at [office]. They gave her eyes a clean bill and said they don’t need to see her again.”
Doctor: “Do they need to see her again? What did they say?”
Me: *internally sighing* “They said her eyes are fine; she doesn’t need to go back.”
Doctor: “Good. But what about her hearing? Did they say anything about that? Do you have an appointment? Who with? When is the appointment?”
Me: “I haven’t made the appointment yet. I just got the information yesterday. I’m going to call them today.”
Doctor: “Make the appointment. Call them. She needs to go.”
Me: “Okay.”
(This went around and around a few times, with me confirming over and over. When we got to the checkout counter, I told the receptionist what the doctor said, and she was surprised. I asked if we could see someone else for the next appointment, and was told that until the doctor released my daughter as a patient, we had to see her again. The entire next appointment, unless I interjected or physically placed myself in front of her, the doctor directed every comment, question, or concern to my mother, who simply gave her a deer-in-the-headlights look. I assumed this was because though I am in my 20s and married, I look younger and the doctor assumed that I was some high school kid that got knocked up. Feeling frustrated, and still needing to get formula, I called the NICU that my daughter spent the first weeks of her life in. I explained the situation, and the charge nurse was very understanding and apologetic for my experience. She told me what formula they generally send preemie babies home with, and told me that I could pick it up at just about any grocery store with a baby section. I looked it up so that I could get a picture of the container to ask my husband to bring it home. Then, out of curiosity, I checked the paperwork with the prescription formula that the doctor gave me, and it was the same thing! I am currently looking for a different pediatrician.)
If You Act Like A Baby, You’ll Be Treated Like One
Massachusetts, Medical Office, Patients, Silly, USA |
Healthy | October 25, 2018
(I’ve never been a fan of getting shots; I would faint every time I got one until I was around twelve. Despite being in my twenties at the time of this story, when I have to take an intramuscular shot, I am less than enthusiastic, gritting my teeth, planting my heels firmly into the floor, and angrily hissing “son of a w****” repeatedly.)
Nurse: “Okay, you’re all set. Are you all right?”
Me: *inhaling deeply and forcing myself to relax* “Hsss… Yeah, I’m fine… I mean, uh–” *fake baby voice* “Wah! That hurt! I want a lollipop!”
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