It is nearly three years into the global health crisis. I am handing out masks at an entrance of a hospital; as long as someone’s mask is clean and worn correctly, we let people bring in their own masks.

One day, I have a visitor approach me, obviously wearing her mask inside out. 

Me: “Hi there! I’ll just get you to sanitise, and I’ll give you a new mask here.”

Visitor: *Shocked* “Oh, I’m already wearing one!”

Me: “Yes, but it’s inside out.”

I’m happy to have people simply flip their masks around instead of giving them new ones, but at this point, I get very distracted.

Visitor: “Oh, but I like it like this!”

Me: “Unfortunately, masks are designed to have the colour on the outside. It’s a one-way filtration system.”

This visitor was very, very surprised, and we continued to talk about how masks work. The amount of people who also just don’t pay attention to how they’re putting their masks on is… very high.

Related:
A Stupid Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 3
A Stupid Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 2
A Stupid Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked

I take my mom in for her knee replacement surgery. As she is expected to be discharged the same day, she needs a responsible adult to remain at the hospital while she is back having her procedure. The waiting area is essentially a wide hallway along the side of the pre-op center. It’s lined with windows and has nice comfy armchairs for us to sit in, so I settle in with my laptop and beverage to wait.

I’m sitting with my back against the windows when the person sitting opposite me suddenly exclaims that the sky is looking nasty. I turn around and look, and indeed, it looks like a storm is rolling in. Nasty thunderstorms are normal for the area, so I shrug and return to my work.

A few minutes later, everyone’s cell phones go off with emergency weather alerts. We are under a tornado warning and should seek shelter. I start packing my bag and looking around for a place to go that isn’t in the wide hallway filled with windows when a staff member rushes by and tells us all to seek shelter — but does not tell us where. So, we all (about twenty-five people) traipse up to the reception desk at the end of the hallway to ask where we are supposed to shelter. The staff there tells us to sit back down because we don’t shelter until security tells us to shelter.

We all huddle together as far from the windows as it is possible to get and start looking at the weather radar to see that there is a tornado in our general vicinity. About that time, a second alert comes through on our phones, and a siren starts going off on the roof where the medivac choppers are parked. Again, a staff member walking by quickly asks us why we aren’t sheltered, and we reply that no one will tell us where to go; all the visitor-accessible areas are along the outside window walls as far as we can see. She tells us to take shelter in the pre-op center, so we all get up and try to get in that door. Yet again, the reception staff tell us we can’t go in there until security says to shelter.

Finally, after the sky has started to lighten up, there is an overhead PA announcement about taking shelter. So, they herd us in, and we are cluttering up that area, trying as hard as we can to stay out of people’s way. Some of the staff back there are trying to rustle up chairs to put along the wall for some of the less ambulatory folks, and the rest of us are stuck standing. We look at the weather maps on our phones again and see that the storm has passed us and the warning has been lifted, but you guessed it, we can’t leave our “shelter” until security says so.

Finally, about fifteen minutes later, security gets the memo and announces the all-clear on the PA, and we are able to return to the comfy seats.

About twenty minutes after that, I get the call from Mom’s surgeon that her surgery is complete and they will be moving her to post-op shortly. The ORs are in the very center of the building, about as sheltered as they can be, so they didn’t even pause the surgery while we were all playing stand-up turn-around sit-down outside.

All of the staff was quite polite the whole time and tried to act professionally, but it was still quite alarming that at least two different sets of conflicting emergency procedures were in play at the same time.

I was waiting in the ER lobby, having just driven my roommate there after he hit his head hard enough to cause a gash. As I was waiting, two ladies walked in, obviously in the middle of an argument. [Woman #2] was holding a towel around one hand.

Woman #1: “I told you. You didn’t know where it had been, you didn’t know that it was friendly, you—”

Woman #2: “Do you think you’re being helpful right now? Do you think this is actually helpful?”

They quieted down as they got to the desk and talked with the nurse to check-in. However, partway through, [Woman #1] started speaking louder.

Woman #1: “I told her, but she went out anyway. She just had to pet the doggy.”

Woman #2: “Shut up, [Woman #2]. It’s your fault; you spooked it.”

Woman #1: “I was on the porch. I didn’t go near it, ’cause I’m not stupid.”

Woman #2: “You spooked it! Dogs don’t bite me; I’m vegan!”

At that point, the receptionist got their attention again, and shortly, they were both escorted further in. Once they were out of sight, one of the other people in the room started giggling, and soon, several of us were chuckling at [Woman #2]’s logic. “I’m vegan,” indeed.

My ex-friend decided to bemoan his fate to me, and I learned that TV drama has nothing on reality. [Ex-Friend] has a mommy complex so deep that I’m pretty sure therapists could make a case study out of him. It was Mom this and Mom that just about every day, so when I found him sulking, I figured his mom was hurt or something. 

The true story turned out to be much worse.

You see, my friend happened to be married to him. Unfortunately. [Friend] got into a car accident involving the other driver being blackout drunk. Her car was totaled, and she spent a little under twelve hours in the hospital for observation and stitches.

[Ex-Friend] got the call telling him about it and which hospital she was being transported to.

Except he didn’t show up. 

Why didn’t he drop everything and rush to the hospital? [Ex-Friend] said his mom had an “emergency.”

[Friend] got out of the hospital the next morning. It “wasn’t a convenient time” for [Ex-Friend] to abandon his mother, so he asked her — through text — to call someone else to help her out. She had to get a ride from her father-in-law. She got in touch with a lawyer for divorce as soon as she got home. 

[Ex-Friend] got home late that day to find his wife gone, some of her clothes gone, and a pile of divorce papers on the table waiting for him. She was going to be staying at her own parents’ house for a little while.

[Ex-Friend] flipped out, only to be ripped to shreds by both fathers. He was informed in many ways how he had failed as a man, as a husband, and as a decent person.

What was the “emergency” his mom was experiencing, you may wonder? The most reasonable thing would be a medical emergency, as well. It would at least be understandable that your brain freaks out about two loved ones having medical emergencies at the same time. 

But no.

His mother’s “emergency” was that she couldn’t find the TV remote, and she desperately needed her son’s help to find it. Except it wasn’t lost! It was where she kept it: on a table near the TV. But she needed his company! And she was such an amazing, kind, and loving woman that he just had to console his mother for the scare! Overnight.

The divorce went smoothly, but [Ex-Friend] refuses to get therapy.

I’ve recently had surgery, and while I expect to be hurting for a while, I’ve been in an incredible amount of pain — think nine to ten on the pain scale. I end up in the emergency room because I can’t even eat with the level of pain I’ve got. They call in the surgeon to inspect some imaging they did of me.

Surgeon: “Oh, you’re fine. Everything went well. You’ll just hurt for a while.”

Me: “Something isn’t right. It took two rounds of morphine to get the pain down to just a tolerable level. I don’t think that’s typical.”

Surgeon: “Nah, it is. Just go home and take your [pain medication] as needed.”

I miserably go home. A friend tries to cheer me up by taking me out of the house a couple of days later. He notices that I’m not doing well at all, even loaded up on pain meds.

Friend: “[My Name], you should call your doctor.”

Me: “I went to [Hospital #1], and the surgeon said I was fine. I guess it’s just gonna suck for a bit.”

Friend: “No, you shouldn’t be in this amount of pain. Come on, I’m taking you to [Hospital #2]. I want you to get a second opinion.”

I don’t have the energy to argue. He takes me to the second ER. They do some imaging and testing, and within a couple of hours, the doctor comes into my room.

Doctor: “So, it looks like something happened with the surgery. We’re going to admit you for a bit to try and get this fixed. You should have gone into the ER sooner with the level of pain you’re at.”

I explain to him what happened at my previous visit. I make sure to include that the surgeon said it was completely fine and normal.

Doctor: *Pauses* “I see. I’m glad you came here, at least. Let’s get you started on [medications] so we can get you where you need to be.”

I am in the hospital for a few days, being pumped full of lots of medications. Because of the painkillers they have me on, I’m not sure what they say is wrong, but they clear me to go home about five days later.

As I’m being discharged, I get a call from the surgeon’s office.

Receptionist: “Hi. We want to schedule your post-op follow-up with [Surgeon] in three weeks!”

Me: “Actually, I’m good. Thanks. Bye.”

The second hospital got me in to see a doctor associated with them for my follow-ups. While I do still have side effects from the complications, they’re luckily minor. I make sure to tell everyone to avoid the surgeon now.