OMG-yn!, Part 2

, , , , | Healthy | January 23, 2019

(I wake up feeling sick. There are explosions of pain in my right side. I try to walk it off but after a few hours my boyfriend decides it’s time to stop playing hero, and he takes me to an emergency room. A receptionist is sorting patients according to their suspected diagnosis — broken bones and physical injuries are sent to the surgical ER, ob-gyn problems to the ob-gyn ER, toothache to the dentist ER, etc. We think it’s appendicitis, so I end up in general ER because we actually don’t know what’s wrong. I am four months pregnant and it’s already starting to show.)

Doctor: “We need to do a test to see if you are pregnant.”

Me: “I am pregnant.”

Doctor: “Riiight. So, we will do the test to see if you are pregnant…”

Me: “I am pregnant.”

Doctor: “Sure. So this test–“

Me: “Which part of ‘I am pregnant’ don’t you understand?”

Doctor: “This test will determine if you are pregnant.”

Me: “Okay, last time: I am pregnant. I’m 17 weeks along. In your right hand is my pregnancy card which confirms my pregnancy, includes all the tests, results, and every check-up I’ve had. I am four months pregnant!”

Doctor: *pause* “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Me: “Arggggh!”

(She sent me to ob-gyn ER since “irritated pregnant women aren’t her problem.” At the ob-gyn ER, I was told my baby was fine, and since they also agreed it might be appendicitis, they sent me to the surgical ER where they determined it wasn’t appendicitis, but that the cause of the pain was my baby. I had a slightly irritated and swollen appendix, and the position of my son allowed him to kick it, which caused the explosions of pain. Two days of an icepack on my right side and liquid diet, and I was fine.)

Choking With Inappropriateness

, , , , | Healthy Right | January 22, 2019

(I work in a home for the elderly. I have to help an elderly woman to change seats because her left arm and leg are paralyzed. She can stand as long as she holds on to somebody. While I’m transferring her into her wheelchair, she holds onto my neck and by doing so she chokes me. Getting out of breath, I quickly set her into her wheelchair. After catching my breath I talk to her.)

Me: “Miss [Woman], you were choking me.”

Woman: “Oh, sorry. I’ll leave that to your girlfriend.”

(After that I had to catch my breath again from laughing too much.)

Just Tell Them They Will Get Dog Breath

, , , , | Healthy Right | January 20, 2019

(I’m a receptionist for a busy veterinarian office. We have a strict policy of not giving medical advice over the phone for the protection of the patients, as I am not a medical professional; I am a receptionist with zero medical training. A frantic woman calls.)

Caller: “What’s going to happen to me? I used my dog’s toothbrush!”

Me: “I don’t believe anything should happen to you, but if you’re worried, you should call your own doctor for advice.”

Caller: “But don’t you know?! You know about dogs; you should know what will happen to me!”

(Both my other phone lines are now ringing.)

Me: “I cannot give medical advice over the phone. Also, we are a veterinarian. If you need medical advice for people, you need to speak to a human doctor.”

Caller: “But don’t you know? You know about dogs.”

Me: *repeating myself* “I really cannot give medical advice for pets or humans. If you are worried, call your own doctor. Now, I need to answer some other calls.”

Caller: “Okay. I just don’t understand why you can’t tell me what will happen to me.”

(I had to hang up on the woman because she wouldn’t stop whining about it.)

The Fats Fit The Facts

, , , | Healthy | January 19, 2019

(I am a larger woman, between a size 12-14. I have PCOS which means it can be very hard for me to lose weight. I also exercise four to six days a week (what can I say? I have an endorphin addiction) and eat fairly healthy. I’m just fat, and the weight doesn’t come off unless I absolutely starve myself. Unfortunately, a lot of people don’t believe this, some of which are in the medical industry. Fortunately, my doctor is more than happy with my health. At the beginning of my annual physical, I notice she has gotten a new nurse. The new nurse enters the room, sees me, and stops dead in her tracks. She looks at the file she has with my blood work, and she looks at me. Back to the blood work, back to me.)

Nurse: “Are you [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes.”

(She frowns and excuses herself. Unfortunately for her, she doesn’t close the door all the way, so I can hear her talking to my doctor in the hall. She is telling the doctor she thinks my blood work has gotten mixed up because there is no way I can have the stats I have! My doctor corrects her saying I have a largely healthy body, but all the organs in my lower abdomen hate me. And that was how her nurse learned that fat people sometimes aren’t fat for lack of trying, and that sometimes our stats are just fine, thank you.)

Doesn’t Need A Bank Or A Post Office But A Hospital

, , , , , , | Healthy Right | January 19, 2019

(I have been helping a patron set up a direct debit.)

Me: “And is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Patron: “Yes, can I have a packet of first-class stamps?”

Me: “Oh, I’m afraid we don’t offer stamps, but there is a post office just down the road. Just head right as you step outside.”

(Her head does this awkward jerk and she looks around in confusion.)

Patron: “This isn’t a post office?”

Me: “No, it’s a bank.”

(She looks furious, but before she can say anything else, she collapses on the floor. I’m the closest first-aider so I go into action. The door security guard calls 999. It looks like she’s having an epileptic fit, so I try my best to work with my training. I check her handbag for an identity card, but can’t find one. The guard walks over and tells me EMTs are coming just as our manager answers the phone. He looks so confused, but he addresses us.)

Manager: “What’s her name?”

Me: “What? How is that relevant?”

Manager: “I’ve got one of the paramedics on the phone. She’s asking.”

Me: *confused* “[Patron].”

Manager: “It’s [Patron]…” *to me* “She says to put a cushion under her head and check her handbag.”

Me: “Already done. I couldn’t find anything. I don’t know if she’s epileptic.”

(He tells the paramedic.)

Manager: “Was there anything drug-related in the bag? Pills? She’s asking for a colour.”

(I grab the bag and check. There is a small, clear bag in one of the side pockets. I don’t touch it but I can see small, round tablets.)

Me: “They’re pink.”

Manager: “Pin– Oh, they’re already here.”

(Literally as he says this, the EMTs burst through the door, with the woman my manager was speaking to hanging up.)

EMT: “Sorry, once we knew it was [Patron], we knew we had to hurry.”

(I surrender her to the EMTs. After a few minutes and an IV, she comes around. She is laughing and quite jolly with them as they take her away on a gurney.)

EMT: “Thanks for the help. I’ll just need to ask some questions.”

Me: “Sure, but how did you know it was her?”

EMT: “Sweetie, I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve been called out for her. Now we just take it as standard to call ahead when we’re told it’s a middle-aged woman.”

(I really have to commend them. I can’t imagine having to deal with the same woman time and time again as she slowly destroys herself.)

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