(I am working as a phone operator at the hospital. Usually people call me and I connect them to different parts of the hospital.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Hospital]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Yeah. Can you connect me to the ‘vaginacologist’ please?”

(I knew what she wanted but was stunned because I have never heard anyone say that before.)

Me: “You mean, the gynecologist office?”

Caller: “I don’t know what they are called. Whoever is in charge of looking at my ‘hoo haw!'”

(During a visit with my sister, I decide to play with my three-year-old niece to give the adults time to talk. We pull out the animal flash-cards.)

Me: “And what’s this one, sweetie?”

Niece: “Sheep!”

Me: “Right! And what’s her baby called?”

Niece: “A lamb!”

Me: “Very good. What do we call a mommy sheep?”

Niece: “A ewe!”

Me: “You’re so smart! And what do we call a daddy sheep?”

(My niece pauses, stumped. Then it comes to her, and she beams.)

Niece: “Useful!”

(I receive a text from my nerdy fiancé just before bed.)

Fiancé: “I love you more than a Lannister loves gold, or a Stark honor. I’ll love you long past the mountains blow in the wind. I need you more than the Doctor needs a TARDIS. When I look in the Mirror of Erised, all I see is us together and old and happy. For you, I would do anything, even become king and save the little folk, if that is what was needed. Were I to know it, my true name would gladly be yours. And I certainly don’t gotta catch ’em all cause I already caught the best. Amin mela lle.”

(I am seriously sick with ovarian cysts. I am in excruciating pain all of the time and can barely eat. I have lost a lot of weight, have a hard time sleeping, and have to go to the hospital for blood tests a lot. On one of the few days I am in school, I have to deal with some rude classmates.)

Classmate #1: “UGH! I can’t believe they let druggies into school!”

Classmate #2: “UGH! I know! They should totally expel them all!”

Classmate #1: “Seriously! They are just druggies and will never be able to pass school, anyway! They shouldn’t be allowed near real people!”

(As Classmate #1 says this, she and Classmate #2 shoot glares in my direction. My teacher shoots them looks but says nothing.)

Classmate #2: “The stupid b**** didn’t even cover her track marks up fully!”

(I had worn arm warmers to try and cover up the needle marks and bruises from a nurse’s failed attempts at giving me an IV that had caused several veins to explode. Several blood tests had been done as well so my arms look pretty mangled. I am shaking in rage and finally lose my temper.)

Me: “I have ovarian cysts you stupid b****! The marks on my arms are from the hospital IV and blood testing! The only drugs I do are painkillers prescribed by a doctor so that I can do more than CURL UP IN A BALL OR WRITHE IN AGONY ALL DAY!”

Teacher: “[My Name]! Sit down, please!”

(The teacher then turns to glare at the two girls.)

Teacher: “If I hear either one of you make another comment about her again I will fail you both and throw you out of this class! She has enough stress to deal with without the both of you making it worse!”

(I sit down, still shaking and on the verge of tears because I am very sensitive about the subject. Both girls huff and sneer after they get over their initial shock but stay quiet. After class the teacher stops me.)

Teacher: “I am sorry that I didn’t speak up sooner. They both have very influential parents in the school for donating money, so my hands are mostly tied. Please let me know if they give you any more problems. I will do my best to deal with them, but I think you did a better job of scaring them than I could.”

(Fortunately, those girls never made comments about me being on drugs again. All I ever had to do was give them a death glare to get them to straighten up. They ended up failing while I passed!)

(I’m spending the day with my grandmother at her house. We’re talking about LGBTQ related topics, since I’d just come out to her as bisexual. I have just finished telling a story about a female-to-male transgender friend, who is being told by his mother that he isn’t transgendered, but just a lesbian.)

Grandma: “Well, that’s poor boy’s mother’s so full of s***! And how come a girl can like sports, but the second a guy wants to bake he’s suddenly a f****** f*****!?”

(My grandmother proceeds to rant for a good ten minutes, pretty much expressing all the same views that I have about LGBTQ and acceptance/equality.)

Me: “This is why you’re my favorite.”

Grandma: “Oh honey, I know.”

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