I work in healthcare, and last week, I had a patient call in to reschedule her upcoming appointment.

Me: “I can give you our next available time, which is 10:00 am on [day] next week.”

Patient: “I can’t do mornings.”

Me: “Okay. The next available appointment with [Provider] at our office isn’t for a few months; it’s on [date] at [time].”

She refused that appointment. I then offered her appointments at one of our other offices, but she refused those, as well. She begrudgingly took the first 10:00 am slot I offered her.

I came to find out that the reason she couldn’t do mornings was that her medication made her sick in the morning. Now, she didn’t tell me this. I found it out from our nurse, who I guess the patient called and begged for another appointment after she got off the phone with me. You would think that would be the end of that, but it wasn’t.

Two days after this happened, I got called into my boss’ office and asked about the situation. Apparently, the patient reported me for being “unkind” to her. Had she told me the reason why she couldn’t do morning appointments, I would have gone out of my way to accommodate her needs. But she didn’t; she just refused the appointments offered to her.

So, no, ma’am, I was not “unkind” to you. You just didn’t give me all of the information I needed.

I’m a vendor for healthcare facilities. After a site visit, I walk back to the elevators, which are very slow at this facility. I press the down elevator button.

While this is happening, a nurse comes up to talk to me, and I step a little bit out of the way from the elevator. We speak for about two minutes. During this time, a lady walks up to the elevator, presumably a visitor of one of the patients.

I hear the elevator arrive, so I go back to the elevator. I check to make sure it’s going down. I get in and press the lobby button. Being nice, I ask the visitor what floor she needs.

Visitor: *Rudely* “Actually, I’m going up and I was here before you!”

That isn’t true; I was there first. I don’t bring that up, though.

Me: “Oh, well, this elevator is going down.”

Apparently, she doesn’t know how elevators work.

Visitor: “So rude of you to hijack my elevator and make me wait longer! I am a guest, so you shouldn’t be the one making me wait!”

Me: “That’s not how elevators work, and also, I think it’s the medical staff who should be the ones who get priority, not the guests.”

Meanwhile, the elevator stopped on floor one. More people got into the down elevator to go down.

Then, it got to the lobby. I jumped out. More people got on, and I laughed my a** off because it was going down to the basement, and I could hear the visitor complaining to the new people on the elevator as the doors shut.

If you want to go up, get out and get in the Up elevator! There was no reasoning with her.

This happens before the global health crisis. I’m a nurse, and I work at the one emergency room in town.

My doctor’s office is in the same building as an urgent care. There’s one sliding door, all glass, and you turn left for urgent care or turn right for the doctor’s office. It’s clearly marked.

It’s my day off, and I’m sitting and waiting for my appointment at my doctor’s office, messing around on my phone. I’m wearing Converse, jeans, and a hoodie that has the name of my partner’s workplace on it — not a medical job. I’m also the only person waiting on that side; the urgent care has standing room only.

A lady stomps in and walks up to my outstretched feet.

Lady: “I need help.”

I point to the check-in window and tell her to talk to them.

Lady: “No, you have to help me.”

Me: *Confused* “…I’m here for an appointment?”

Lady: “You’re a nurse! Get up and do your job!”

I’m now extremely concerned that this woman somehow knows my profession.

Me: “I don’t work here. I’m a patient.”

Lady: “Yes, you do! You’re a nurse.”

At that point, the desk staff opened the glass window and asked if they could help the lady. She stomped up to the window, demanding to immediately be seen. The staff figured out that she was not an established patient, didn’t have an appointment, and needed to go to the urgent care.

I was called back while the lady was demanding to see a doctor.

By the time I got out, she was gone. The desk staff told me they had to ask her to leave, and she did so while continuing to yell.

I still have no idea who she was. I assume she knew I was a nurse because she had seen me in the ER at some point. I never saw her again.

She was not in visible distress, walking normally with a steady gait. I’m not so heartless as to ignore someone in need of medical care. But if you’re able to stand at a window and shout at staff members, you’re probably not a critical patient.

I’m a home hemodialysis nurse. I train patients and arrange for all their supplies. At the beginning of June, my boss told me to admit a patient ASAP who was moving from out of state, was already trained, and “only” needed a home visit, machine, water, and drain installation, and supplies delivered.

The plumber was on vacation, which meant no water installation was possible for two weeks. Water is essential for preparing dialysate that in the end cleans the blood. There is an emergency workaround by buying pre-made dialysate, no water required.

The patient needed eight five-liter bags for each treatment. You get two in a box. With patient dialysis five days a week, four boxes for each treatment meant twenty boxes per week.

Boss: “Order them as quickly as possible for two weeks.”

Me: “That’s forty boxes of 10 kg (22 lbs). The shipping cost will be outrageous. Let’s order eight boxes express and the rest regular.”

Nope, [Boss] knew better.

Okay. I ordered forty boxes overnight by air. It cost $1,500 just for shipping. The supplier thought that was crazy, and I thought that was crazy, but [Boss] said to do it.

At the end of July, they were checking the budget, and lo and behold, we had spent way too much; we had less than a third left for the rest of the year.

Bosses’ bonus depends on smart budgeting. [Boss] didn’t get her bonus this quarter. She was pissed.

I felt so vindicated.

I’ve been dealing with an issue with my right calf for a few months now. It’s not a blood clot, so I’ve been told, but it sure as h*** feels like one at times, and it comes and goes with no warning; it can happen while I’m eating, while I’m relaxing, or while I’m exercising, with no clear pattern.

This is my third visit to a physiotherapist, done in case it’s to do with weak ankles (which I’m not entirely convinced of, but hey ho). I explain that, despite doing my assigned exercises, I’ve experienced only slight improvement; it comes slightly less frequently.

Physiotherapist: “If zero is no improvement and 100% is completely improved, where would you say you fit on that scale?”

Me: “Seven, at best.”

She notes that and then goes over what exercises I’m actually doing. She briefly circles back to that statement a couple of minutes later:

Physiotherapist: “…but 70% improvement is really good, actually.”

Me: “I didn’t say seventy, I said seven.”

Physiotherapist: “Yes, seven out of ten. That’s 70%.”

Me: “You said out of 100! Seven out of 100 is 7%.”

Physiotherapist: “Fine.”

She moved on quickly from that, but I’ve been feeling rather niggled by it. Does 100% mean ten in physiotherapy speak, and I just didn’t get the memo?