I recently stayed at a hotel, where conference organisers had booked me into a wheelchair-accessible room. It was round the back of the building down a lane-wide ramp with no sides, handrails, or lighting. Even in a wheelchair, I wouldn’t have been able to get to or from it unless someone was there to push me.

The hotel’s answer was that there was a dedicated disabled parking bay nearby so I could just drive to the front of the building, hope to find suitable parking, and walk across the busy carpark every time I wanted to go to breakfast, reception, the coffee shop, meetings or anywhere.

When I pointed out I didn’t have a car and would need to call a taxi each way to take me from my room to reception and back, I got the obligatory “deer in the headlights” look.

It’s not really the hotel’s fault. Despite it being completely unsuitable for me, who can walk (sort of) and would be on my own without a car most of the time, I believe the room was quite spacious and well-equipped.

The requirement I had asked for was accessible washing and toilet facilities, so I ended up with a smaller and more basic (but still accessible) room, but at least I could make my own way around.

They were also good enough to provide a proper ergonomic computer chair so I could sit in my room and work.

Watching the cogs whirring was fun; I don’t think it had ever occurred to the managers that without a car, or at the very least a fairly meaty powered chair, there was no safe way to go to and from their premium “accessible” rooms.

We recently outsourced our phones and scheduling to a call center when outside normal hours: It used to be if someone called when we were not open, it would go to an answering machine. Now it goes to a service that tries to set them up with an appointment.

I’m checking the schedule, and I see that a client has somehow been scheduled at 8:30 AM on Thursday with a doctor who doesn’t work Thursdays. Also, we open at 9 AM.

I call the client.

Me: “Hi. Somehow you got scheduled with a doctor who’s not here at a time when we’re not open. Would you like to reschedule to fix this?”

Client: “I called in, and they said it was okay over the phone.”

Me: “Unfortunately it wasn’t. If you had attempted to come at that time and with that doctor, not only would no one be able to see you, we’re fully booked tomorrow, but the doors would be locked when you arrived.”

Client: “Yeah, the person I talked to seemed to be having some trouble accommodating me. I need that particular doctor, she’s the only one familiar with my situation, I need a morning appointment and I need one soon.”

Me: “Okay. She’s only available in the evenings. She’s got a second job teaching at a nearby college in the mornings. Can I schedule you for the evening, or do you need a different doctor?”

Client: “See, neither of those are acceptable. I work evenings. I need her in the morning, and I need it to be her.”

Me: “Okay, we have some appointments for her in the morning during the summer, is that alright?”

Client: “No. It needs to be fast.”

Me: “I’m sorry. I cannot accommodate you.”

Client: “I’ll be there for my original appointment at 8:30 tomorrow then. You’d better be there.” *Click.*

I let security know what was about to go down. Sure enough, he showed up at 8:30 and made an annoyance of himself by slamming on the doors and throwing things at the window until security pointedly asked him to leave.

Related:
About To Be Dis-Appointed, Part 10
About To Be Dis-Appointed, Part 9
About To Be Dis-Appointed, Part 8
About To Be Dis-Appointed, Part 7
About To Be Dis-Appointed, Part 6

CONTENT WARNING: Death, Cancer
 

I’m not sure if this is because I work in a smaller rural hospital, but it was something I was glad to be part of; I’m not sure we could have gotten away with this in a larger hospital.

I’m an administrative assistant at a hospital. I have no formal medical training outside of CPR and recovery positions, but I assist the nurses and doctors enough to have seen my fair share of medical emergencies.

Mr. Smith (name changed, obviously) is one of our patients who has recently taken a turn for the worse. He has terminal cancer and isn’t expected to last the night. He is in his late nineties and his family has been preparing for this day, so they’re all in the area and coming by to spend some precious moments with him.

I’m standing at the reception doing some of my work when I see a woman who I recognize to be one of Mr. Smith’s relatives standing at the entrance. She seems hesitant to come in, so I approach and ask if everything is okay.

Relative: “Well, I am trying to see how I can go about bringing Copper into the hospital.”

Me: “Copper? Like the metal?”

Relative: “What? Oh, gosh, no! This is Copper!”

She stands aside, and I am shocked to find that I didn’t notice the tiny old dog standing behind her. He looks like a cross between a Jack Russel terrier and… something… but I can certainly tell how he got his name. His coat is a brilliant copper color!

Relative: “Copper is Mr. Smith’s absolute best friend. We wanted to see if we could bring him in to see him one last time, but we understand as hospitals aren’t designed to be pet-friendly.”

Me: “Stay here for just one moment.”

As luck would have it, one of the hospital administrators is at reception talking to a few managers. I politely interrupt and explain the situation, pointing over by the entrance as I do. They all look over, and I observe a solemn resolve come across all their faces.

Hospital Administrator: “We still do occasional visits from support dogs for Pediatrics, right?”

Manager: “We do.”

Hospital Administrator: “I don’t care what it takes, but get something filed for Copper.”

Manager: “On it.”

Hospital Administrator: *Pointing at me* “You, with me.”

We both head over to the entrance, and the hospital administrator says hello.

Hospital Administrator: “Hi, [Relative]. I’m so sorry for what you and your family are going through. Please follow me, and we’ll get you and Copper in to see your grandfather.”

We exit the hospital, walk around to the side, and enter a side entrance only accessible by hospital staff. We are mere feet away from Mr. Smith’s room.

Hospital Administrator: “[My Name], please take them to Mr. Smith’s room. I’ll go see the ward manager and explain the situation.”

I do as I’m told, and as soon as Copper enters the room, both he and Mr. Smith come to life. The dog jumps up on the bed, a licking frenzy ensues, and Mr. Smith starts crying. A moment ago, he was too weak to move, but now he’s mustered the energy to embrace his dog.

Mr. Smith: “My Copper! My little Copper!”

Since my shift ended at 6:00 pm, I was told what happened throughout the night by the nurses.

That little copper dog stayed embraced by Mr. Smith until the very end. Relatives came and went and paid their respects, but Copper sat by his master and didn’t let go. It was as if he knew what was coming and was preparing himself, too.

When the moment came, Copper licked Mr. Smith’s forehead one last time and got up for the first time in hours. There were tears and the usual protocols were followed, and the granddaughter I had spoken with the day before took Copper home. He had gone back to being quiet and still, like when I had first noticed him.

A month or so later, our hospital received a huge bouquet of flowers, sent from the family, thanking us for making their relative’s passing as peaceful as possible. The card was signed by the family members — including a little paw print from Copper.

The card explained that Copper was living with the granddaughter now and took weekend walks to Mr. Smith’s grave to say hello. Everyone who read the card teared up. Working at a hospital, you see death pretty regularly, but this one got to us.

May we all get a Copper in our lives!

I’m waiting in line to pick up a prescription. There are two women in front of me being served.

Mother: *Eyeing the large paper bag that is handed to her daughter.* “Why do you need all that?”

Daughter: “Like I said last month, [Son] needs it for [condition]. He inherited it from his father.”

Mother: “He doesn’t need that. I’ve told you; they need to go to church more. Jesus heals all who come to him.”

The daughter then picks up the bag that the mother just received.

Daughter: “Oh? Well, I guess you won’t need your insulin.”

The daughter then walks off. The mother is standing there dumbfounded before running after her.

Me: *To the pharmacist.* “That was… odd.” 

Pharmacist: “They do it every month. Rumour is the mother was a smackhead in the 60s and her memory is totally butchered. Given it’s been like a year now, I’m starting to believe it.”

My late grandfather was a dentist, and he told me about a particularly difficult patient he had back in the 1970s.

[Kid] was ten years old, and the entire practice dreaded his visits. When he appeared for an appointment to have some cavities filled, he entered the room with a look of defiance on his face, and my grandfather decided he just was not in the mood.

Dentist: “Get in the chair. I’m not going to play with you today.”

Kid: “No! And you can’t make me!”

Dentist: “Now!”

Kid: “I’m gonna take off all my clothes!”

Dentist: “Yeah, go right ahead.”

[Kid] stripped down to his underwear and folded his arms.

Dentist: “Now get in the chair!”

[Kid] grabbed the waistband of his underwear in a silent threat to pull them down.

Dentist: “I double-dare you!”

[Kid] stripped completely naked.

Dentist: “Now get in the chair!”

The kid quietly got in the chair and cooperated throughout the entire procedure. However, while [Dentist] was working on him, he quietly instructed his dental assistant to take the clothes elsewhere.

When it was over:

Kid: “Hey, where are my clothes?”

Dentist: “You can pick them up tomorrow. Goodbye.”

Kid: “YOU CAN’T—”

[Dentist] marched the kid out of the room and into the hallway and locked the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, he predictably got a phone call summoning him up to the front desk. He was met by [Kid]’s mother who was standing surprisingly calm and almost smug, despite the fact that she’d just witnessed the door opening and her son walking butt naked into a waiting room full of people.

Mom: “He blackmailed you with his clothes, didn’t he?”

Dentist: “Yep, and I called his bluff.”

Mom: “He’s been doing that to me forever. Any time we’re in public and I tell him no, he’ll threaten to strip naked in front of everyone, and I always find myself giving in. Thanks so much.” *To [Kid]* “LET’S GO!”

And [Kid]’s mom marched him right out, through the medical clinic full of people, through the elevators, and into the parking lot.

[Kid]’s mom came by the next day to pick up his clothes and told my grandfather that when they got home, she didn’t allow that brat to get dressed there, either, and made him spend the entire day at home walking around butt naked and enduring teasing and jeers from his siblings.

My grandfather never had a problem with him from then on, and according to his mom, it was the last time he ever blackmailed her with his clothes again.