I’m a veterinary technician, and I got injured on the job. A puppy is handed to me, and he starts flailing and manages to take a 1-cm-by-3-mm chunk out of my cornea with his claw. It’s amongst the most painful injuries I’ve ever received. I can’t see to save my life, so I call my dad and ask him to take me to the emergency room. He picks me up directly from work.

The ER is a madhouse. You know it’s gonna be bad when there’s a handful of staff waiting for an ambulance to arrive.

While I’m waiting in the exam room, I hear a page come over the system for a “code blue”. That means a patient has gone into cardiac arrest, and it’s an all-hands-on-deck situation for CPR. It’s also a reminder that you’re lucky to be waiting in an ER because you’re not dying.

I’m eventually seen by the doctor, and I get a few sidelong glances from the nurses at my scrubs. They seem to notice the large paw print logo embroidered on them from the hospital I work at and leave me be. After my visit, the nurse who’s discharging me points down the hall at the door and tells me to exit that way, and then she gets back to work.

As I’m walking down the hall, a woman pops out from one of the exam rooms on my blind side and immediately starts yelling. I almost crash into a desk.

Woman: “Do you know how long I have been waiting?!”

I gesture in vain toward the paw print logo.

Me: “I don’t work here.”

Woman: “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Me: “I can get someone to—”

Woman: “We have been waiting for forty-five minutes in this room! My daughter’s tummy hurts! Do you even care about her?”

The daughter seems to be about thirteen years old. She is covering her face with her hands and looking a bit like she wishes the floor would swallow her up

Me: “I can’t help—”

Woman: *Slowly, like I’m an idiot* “Herrrr tummmmyy hurrrrrts. Do you people even care at all? About how long we’ve waited?”

I’m in disbelief over how someone could be so clueless about triage.

Me: “Did you not see the man come in that got hit by a car?”

It’s just a guess, but I’m hoping to give her some perspective.

Woman: “Is he my daughter? No? Then why would I care? What’s wrong with your face? Quit winking at me!”

Just struggling to see over here, my bad.

At this point, a security guard shows up. He stands between us and looks at her and then at me.

I desperately point at the paw print logo.

Me: “I’m a patient!”

He nodded, turned to the woman, and started explaining that I didn’t work there. I didn’t hang around to see the aftermath because, you know, the whole “I couldn’t see” part. Some say her daughter’s tummy hurts to this very day.

Me: “Thanks for calling [Pharmacy]. This is Technician [My Name]; how may I help you?”

Nurse: “I got a call yesterday, and I need to clear things up.”

She pauses.

Me: “Sure thing. What’s the patient’s name and date of birth?”

Nurse: “Are you going to let me finish?”

Me: *Shocked* “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I thought you were done.”

Nurse: “Well, never mind. I’ll call back when you decide not to treat people this way. In the meantime, I’m going to report this conversation to the patient and tell him you delayed his medication by another day with your attitude.”

She hangs up.

A little while later:

Me: “Thanks for calling [Pharmacy]. This is Technician [My Name]; how may I help you?”

It’s a patient, who gives me their first and last name and date of birth.

Me: “All right, it looks like I have a call open to your doctor about your medicine, but I haven’t heard back.”

Patient: “The nurse called me and told me you were rude to her on the phone. She says she refuses to be treated that way.”

Me: “I’m so sorry about the confusion! I’ll call the physician’s office again to see if I can get some resolution.”

Patient: “I was very surprised when she called me and told me this. I’ve never had a bad experience at your pharmacy.”

Me: “There was some miscommunication between us, but she could have asked for a pharmacist and I would have handed the phone over.”

Patient: “She recommended that I switch to another pharmacy. I said I’ve been using this pharmacy for years, and the staff is always going through hoops for me. I was nice, though. Instead of telling her to shove it up her a**, I thanked her for the information.”

Me: *Hardly containing my laughter* “That was kind of you. I’ll put another call in when we’re finished. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Patient: “I’m good. Take care. You have my permission to call her a twit.”

Me: *Snorting* “I promise to remain professional out loud. Thanks for calling.”

I started a new medication today. I brought the prescription to the pharmacy and left, waiting until I received the text message notification that it was ready to pick up. The notification comes from an automated system that identifies prescriptions by the first four letters of the medication name.

So, I was cry-laughing at work when the text came in:

Text: “Your prescription starting with ‘METH’ is ready for pickup at [Pharmacy].”

This story takes place a few years back when I was doing a clinical rotation in phlebotomy for my degree in Medical Laboratory Science. I was placed in the Emergency Department of a local hospital, practicing poking patients and drawing their blood. All the staff knew that my snow-white scrubs meant I was a student, but some patients took them to mean I was a physician.

One night, I happened to walk by an exam room where an altercation was taking place between a patient and a very patient Registered Nurse. Altercations were a fairly common occurrence in the ED, but I was still pretty green so it was hard not to stop and listen in.

Nurse: “I’ve been doing this for thirty years, Mr. [Patient]. I can assure you—”

Patient: “I don’t care how long you’ve been doing this. I want a doctor to place my IV!”

Nurse: “Mr. [Patient], if you hold still, I promise I’ll have it in in a flash. You’ll hardly feel a thing.”

Patient: “Are you deaf or just stupid? I want…”

At that point, the man caught sight of me loitering in the hallway.

Patient: “I want her to place my IV!”

Me: *Flabbergasted* “But I can’t thread IVs. I only know how to draw blood.”

Nurse: “Sir, she’s just a student.”

This affront seemed to put the patient into overdrive, and he began slamming his fist on the bed rail and screaming for a doctor. The nurse quietly took me aside and asked me to go fetch one of the physicians on duty. I ran to get the kindest one, as I was afraid of getting snapped at by the other doctors working that night.

[Doctor] patiently listened to my explanation, wordlessly grabbed an IV kit out of the cupboard, and followed me to the patient’s room. We could hear the patient still throwing his tantrum as we walked down the hall. As soon as [Doctor] stepped into the room in his white coat, the patient switched it off like a light and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Patient: *With a smug smile at his nurse* “Finally!”

Doctor: *With a big friendly smile* “Hello, Mr. [Patient]! I hear you want a doctor to place your IV. Well, I haven’t done this since medical school, so that’s, what, twenty-five years ago now? I might be a little rusty, but I’m happy to give it a shot! Nurse, will you please position the patient’s head? I’m going for the jugular.”

Suddenly, the patient decided he didn’t want a doctor to place his IV after all, and the nurse with thirty years of experience placing IVs would do just fine.

Related:
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 19
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 18
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 17
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 16
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 15

Paczkis [Polish filled doughnuts] are VERY important in Chicago culture. On Paczki Day/Mardi Gras, bakeries are extremely busy. 

Unfortunately, I have to get dental work done that day. However, as I’m leaving work, one of my coworkers tells me to grab a Paczki. Of course! It’s the end of the lunch hour, so there are only powdered sugar-coated ones, but not only are they fresh, they’re filled with Boston creme. 

I think I can spend the drive to the endodontist with sticky fingers… and sticky teeth. 

I’ve never been to this office before, so as I walk in, I’m trying to dust myself off. The powdered sugar got EVERYWHERE — it’s still on the passenger seat in my car — meaning it’s also all over me. Have to look nice otherwise, I guess, right? Even if my teeth are awful? 

Eventually, a tiny lady with a thick accent leads me into the room. She’s the tech and is to prep me. 

Tech: “Okay, please have a seat. You can put your jacket on the bench over there.”

Me: “I’m so sorry if I look like I’m dusty. I just had a Paczki on the way here.”

The tech eyes me strangely for a moment and then bursts out laughing.

Tech: “That’s right! It’s Paczki Day! I have to get one later.”

As the tech is busying herself with prep, I try to make polite conversation. (I’m anxious, breakfast was that Paczki, and I’ve never had this kind of work done before!) 

Me: “How many of these procedures do you do a day?”

Tech: “How many of what you’re getting? I mean, we do just about everything every day. Sweetheart, don’t worry. Yours will be forty minutes. Forty-five, tops.”

Me: “Wait, seriously?”

Tech: “We’re only doing one tooth today, right? You’ll be fine. In fact, think about Paczki!”

She pats my shoulder and winks at me. 

In the middle of the work, I have to stop them so I can swallow. As I’m doing so, I motion to the tech. 

Me: “I’ hryink whoo hink ahou’ hasskeys!”

Endodontist: “…suction?”

Me: “Oh, oh, hasskeys!”

Endodontist: “What?”

Tech: “You want to think about… Paczkis?!”

She loses her cool for a second and laughs, leaving the doctor bewildered and a little upset that he had to stop work. 

As I’m leaving when it’s over and chatting with the tech again (who tells me that once the novocaine wears off, it’ll be very painful), just before she leaves…

Tech: *Triumphantly* “Now I’m going to get a Paczki!”

Me: *Laughing* “Enjoy!”

It was VERY painful when the novocaine wore off, but remembering this helped me to forget it!