Makes You Wish You Could Just Die(late)

, , , , , , | Healthy | July 22, 2018

(I have just had an eye exam. This time I need mine dilated. The exam is good, and afterward, my grandma and I decided to head to [Restaurant] for breakfast. Note that, per doctor’s orders — and because I’m not stupid — I have my sunglasses on inside the restaurant itself. Any logical person would mind their own d*** business, despite there being a young adult sitting in a room with her back towards the window with sunglasses on. One lady, however, doesn’t get that and comes up to the table.)

Lady: “Why do you have sunglasses on?”

Me: *because it’s loud and I can’t hear well* “I’m sorry?”

Lady: “I said, ‘Why do you have your sunglasses on in here?!’ You’re high, aren’t you? You must be high!”

Me: *trying to keep a polite approach in the hopes that she leaves* “Ma’am, I can assure you, I’ve never even touched marijuana.”

Lady: “That’s what a pothead would say!”

Me: “So, because I have my sunglasses on inside, I’m a pothead, am I?”

Lady: “Yes, you f****** are! That stuff is bad for you!”

Me: “Certainly, because I’m allergic to the smell.”

(This is true. I get incredibly dizzy with the smell of weed.)

Lady: “You’re lying! You just had a blunt, and now you’re having a case of the munchies!”

Me: “Please, leave us alone.”

Lady: “Not until you leave!”

(I’m annoyed and have a headache from the noise, and my eyes are hurting, and I’m hangry. I move my sunglasses so she can see my eyes.)


(The lady, I guess not expecting a 4’11” girl to snap, stepped back and scurried off to whatever she was doing before. I can get not being a fan of weed — like I said, I have an allergy with the smell of it — but even if I had been smoking it, what good would yelling at me do? Sometimes just keep your opinion to yourself.)

A Very Secure Argument

, , , | Healthy | July 19, 2018

(I work in a children’s hospital. Like most hospitals, we have a code system for emergencies. In our hospital, Code Pink is missing child — either patient, or sibling or friend visitor. We are responding to a Code Pink involving a teenager girl — here after an attempted suicide — who has gone missing from her room. Part of the response is that everyone needs to stay where they are when the code is issued, while the nurses search every room in their unit and allied health professionals man the doors between units. I’m an allied health professional, so I’m guarding the door between two units. It’s also right before visitors are supposed to leave for the night. Several visitors come to me, trying to leave to go home.)

Me: “We’re searching for a missing child at the moment, so please return to your child’s room until we notify you that our search is completed.”

Most People: “Oh, absolutely. I hope you find them quickly.”

Man: “Well, I’m tired, and I’m going home.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but you cannot leave right now.”

Man: “Well, I’m leaving.”

Me: “With all due respect, no, you aren’t. Even if you get past me, no one is coming in or out of the hospital right now.”

Man: *starts to push past me* “I’m leaving.”

Me: “You will be stopped at the main door by security, anyway. We need everyone to stay where they are.”

Man: “I’ll get through security, too.”

Me: “May I remind you that security has pepper spray and tasers? Sir, I’m sure you can imagine that we take a missing child very seriously, and security is not going to play games with you.”

(He dejectedly went back to his room. For those worried, it turns out that the girl’s “friends” were trying to break her out of the hospital. She was 17. They were 18. They made it to the train station outside. They got charged with kidnapping.)

Waiting For Cancer

, , , , | Healthy | July 16, 2018

The nearest clinic that takes my insurance is a pretty far drive for me, so I try to book multiple medical appointments for the same day, or at least get more than one thing scheduled each time I go in. On this particular day, I’ve booked two appointments: one consultation that should take about thirty minutes, and a prescription renewal for a psychiatric medication that should only be about fifteen minutes. The receptionist and I agree that it makes sense to put in some buffer time, just in case the consultation takes a little longer than expected, so my psychiatric appointment is scheduled to start fifteen minutes after my consultation should end.

I arrive at the clinic fifteen minutes early, check in for both my appointments, remind the receptionist of my schedule, and settle into the waiting room. It’s not unusual for appointments at this clinic to run a few minutes late, so I’m not surprised when we’re five minutes past my first appointment time and I haven’t been called back; I left the buffer time for a reason. However, by the time we approach the twenty-minute mark, I’m pretty concerned. I go to the desk and ask, and the receptionist promises someone will be with me soon. I remind him that I have the second appointment, and he tells me that the psychiatrist’s schedule isn’t jammed, so if I’m a few minutes late, that’s all right. I’m getting a little annoyed, but I try to let it go and go back to wait.

Another ten minutes pass before a nurse brings me back to take my vitals, at what was supposed to be the end of my appointment time. I ask him about the delays, and he tells me that it will be fine and the doctor will be right with me, and leaves me in the office, alone.

I wait in the office for another twenty minutes, now officially five minutes into my psychiatric appointment time, before I step back into the front office. The receptionist says that the consulting doctor’s schedule is completely backed up, so he sends me back to do my psychiatric appointment while I wait. The psychiatrist is very understanding when I explain the whole confusion, and we’re just starting to talk about my medication when another doctor throws the door open without knocking first. Apparently, this is my consulting doctor.

She’s very angry, and starts laying into the psychiatrist, yelling about how it was absolutely unprofessional for him to take me back before I’d met with her, how it was screwing up her whole schedule, and how my consultation today was already going to be difficult, going into details about why it would be. Finally, she turns to me and tells me that if I want to meet with her at all, I have to do it now, because her schedule is so tight today. The psychiatrist tells me to go ahead, and he’ll talk to the receptionist and make sure I can still see him today.

I really don’t want to deal with this woman, but the consultation is for a cancer screening, for a fast-acting type that runs in my family. I’m high risk for it, and if I have it, even the few weeks it might take to rebook a consultation with a less-PO’d doctor could seriously impact my treatment. She’s professional enough during my appointment, and can tell me that I am, in fact, cancer-free, but I’m still very uncomfortable with her.

Luckily, I am able to rebook the psychiatric consultation after just another twenty-minute wait, although I’m now here over an hour later than I’d planned to be. I’m ready to just run out as quickly as I can, but the psychiatrist asks me if I can stay and speak to a staff member about my experience today.

Turns out, the reason there was a twenty-minute wait was because he filed a report against the other doctor for barging into my appointment with him without even knocking first, and then for yelling at him, including information about my appointment in her rant that he had no reason to know, since it didn’t relate to his treatment of me. I’m not sure if what she did was technically a HIPPA violation, or if it just violated the clinic’s policy, but when I go to book another appointment six months later, and specify that I’d like to be seen by any doctor except her, I’m told that she’s no longer with the clinic.

Hopefully You Have A Good Vinyl Collection

, , , , | Healthy | July 15, 2018

(I am allergic to both latex and nitrile, but they’re both relatively new allergies for me, so I don’t think to mention them at first. I need blood taken, so the nurse and I are chatting as she gets the vials ready. As she reaches for the gloves, I notice the box.)

Me: “Oh, sorry. I forgot to say, I’m allergic to both latex and nitrile. Do you have different gloves?”

(The nurse looks at the box, as well.)

Nurse: “These are latex free.”

Me: “I know, but they’re usually nitrile, and I’m allergic to that, too. Do you have vinyl?”

(She grabs a box of vinyl gloves for me.)

Nurse: “Do you know how often I need to wear these? Maybe once a year. They’re horrible! They’re too big, and they feel awful on your hands! I hate them so much!”

(She continued to complain about the gloves as she took my blood. I know vinyl gloves are horrible; I have to wear them for work, too. But I’d also rather not spend the next few hours itching because I got latex or nitrile on my skin!)

Has Been Trying In Vein

, , , , , | Healthy | July 14, 2018

(I have been donating blood at least twice a year ever since I was 18 years old. Once the needle gets into a vein, I have no problems filling the bag. The problem is my veins tend to “squirm” under my skin, and if they don’t get pierced straight on, they have a habit of popping. Due to this, I am rather used to them needing multiple attempts to stick me. One time, I go in to make my donation, and after doing all of the paperwork, I am sat on the bench. The phlebotomist — blood drawer — walks up with a young guy.)

Phlebotomist: “Mr. [My Name]? This is [Trainee], and he is a trainee with us. He is almost done with his training. Would you be okay if he did the needle insertion on you today?”

Me: “I mean, it’s fine with me, but he might have a hard time. I’m sometimes hard to stick.”

Phlebotomist: “Okay, [Trainee], I’ll be over there if you need me.”

(The phlebotomist then walks away to go do a draw from another donor across the room.)

Me: “All right, [Trainee], looks like it’s just the two of us. Just to warn you, my veins tend to squirm a bit, and are easy to pop. Just take your time.”

Trainee: “Don’t worry, sir. This should be easy. Just squeeze on this ball, and… Shoot.”

(He slid the needle into my arm, and, like I warned him, my vein moved out of the way. He tries to change the angle of the needle while it is in my arm, causing a good bit of pain, and then scrapes the side of the vein, popping it.)

Trainee: “Darn! Don’t worry; this is fine. There is another vein I can use. Just make sure you sit still, please. Please squeeze. D***!”  

(Another squirm and another pop, luckily with no digging inside of my flesh this time.)

Me: “Do you think you should get your trainer to come and look?”

Trainee: “No, sir. I am almost fully trained, and I have done this before. Is it okay if I move over to your other arm and give that one a shot?”

Me: “Sure, but you are going to have the same problem over there.”

(He moves over to my other side, cleans the skin, ties off the band, pokes at my vein with his finger a couple of times, and lines up the needle.)

Me: “Are you sure you don’t want to call your trainer over?”

Trainee: “I’m sure, sir. This will be fine. Just please don’t move while I’m inserting the needle. Squeeze. Fu… Um… Hey, [Phlebotomist], could you come over for a second, please?”

(He has managed to pop the third vein, and when extracting the needle, he ripped my skin a bit, causing me to start bleeding. When the phlebotomist gets over, he says to her:)

Trainee: “I don’t know what this guy is doing, but he keeps moving his veins while I’m working.”

Phlebotomist: “I doubt he is doing it on purpose. Let me try another vein, and I’ll show you how to do it.”

Trainee: “Umm… I already tried both elbows, and the veins all popped under me.”

Phlebotomist: “Why didn’t you call me when you started having trouble?”

Trainee: “It would have been fine if he hadn’t been wiggling his veins. Look, I tried both in his left arm, and one in his right, but his right is bleeding now, so I can’t do the other. Do you think I should go for an artery?”

Phlebotomist & Me: “WHAT?!”

Phlebotomist: “NO! YOU DO NOT TAKE BLOOD FROM AN ARTERY! NOT WITH THE TRAINING YOU HAVE! That donor over there is almost full; go take his needle out when he is done, and point him to the snacks.”

(The trainee walks away, muttering something under his breath that I can only assume is more blaming me for moving my veins. The phlebotomist apologizes profusely, saying that she hasn’t had any trouble with him yet today, he has been good with other donors, etc. As they can’t get blood from popped veins, she tells me to come back in a month after they have healed up. As I’m walking to the front door, I walk past the trainee, who gives me a glare, and says:)

Trainee: “Next time, sir, please hold still while we are inserting the needle.”

(When I went back in, the phlebotomist recognized me, and came up to apologize again, and said that the trainee no longer worked there, at least partially due to the fact that he kept blaming the donors if anything went wrong.)

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