CONTENT WARNING: Animal Neglect (Happy Ending!)

I’ve just clocked in as a groomer at an independent pet store. I look at my schedule for the day and see that all of my appointments have been scrubbed and my manager has just written, “SEE ME, EMERGENCY,” in big letters. Colour me intrigued but also concerned.

I walk across the building to my manager’s office and find her consoling a woman around my age — mid-twenties. There’s a husky frantically trying to lick her face, but the dog yelps every time it moves. It’s climbed into its owner’s lap. I can see from across the room that the poor thing is covered in matted fur, which has tangled so badly near its legs that it can’t stand or move without pulling at the skin and causing pain. The poor dog is also filthy, and someone has clearly tried to shave or chop off some of the matting and nicked the dog several times. The vet we usually get out for sedation and such is standing there, as bewildered as I am.

Manager: “Oh, good, here’s [My Name]! Sweetheart, I told you I would find you the very best to help Nymeria, and she’s it. If anyone can help her, it’s [My Name], okay? And [Vet] is here to have a look at the cuts. They don’t look too bad to me, but we’ll get it sorted out, okay?” 

Dog Owner: *Still crying and hiccuping* “I h-h-had to move here for my new j-j-job, and I left her with my brother. My h-h-house wasn’t ready, and she’d have been miserable in a flat. I s-s-sent him the money to take her to the groomer, but he never took her, and it’s been six months! The airport p-p-people said she cried the whole flight—”

She’s cut off by the dog yelping because her leg slid off the owner’s lap, which causes the owner to start sobbing even louder. My heart breaks; this poor girl clearly loves her dog. I can hear the vet muttering under his breath something unkind about the brother.

Me: “Okay. Deep breaths, everyone! Right. Tears aren’t helping, and they’re upsetting Nymeria. We can fix this. Could you introduce me?”

I was introduced to Nymeria who, to her credit, despite her pain, only gave me about thirty seconds of the husky side-eye before she realized I had dehydrated chicken livers in my pocket. After that, I think she would have gone home with me.

The vet checked the nicks out and found nothing but some surface scratches. There was one particularly deep one near her rear end that he popped some antiseptic on, and then he gave us the go-ahead.

He asked if she usually needed sedation for grooming. By then, my manager had gotten hold of the customer’s old groomer, who was LIVID at the brother. When Nymeria didn’t come in on schedule, she assumed the owner had figured out the housing situation quicker than she expected and had already brought her to live in our town. She gave me some tips for Nymeria — not a biter but tries to escape when you clip her paws, does fine with a sprayer but tries to eat shampoo, and not bothered by a blow dryer but LOVES to sing. She’d been grooming Nymeria since she was a puppy and said she was very loved, well-trained, and all round the goodest girl. She did thankfully warn me that Nymeria was not a typical husky; I couldn’t really tell through all the dirt and matting, but she’s wooly coated, which added an extra layer of complication.

Nymeria let me carry her to the bathtub, happy as could be, inspecting my ear for any hidden treats. It took me seven hours to painstakingly wash, brush, trim, and dry her, but she was a trooper. When I finally had her legs unmatted and she stood up without pain for the first time, she spun in circles for ten minutes and ran around the room like a wind-up toy to get a few months’ worth of zoomies out all at once.

She needed a more extensive haircut than I would have typically given a double-coated dog, but I’m confident that she’ll recover. She went home feeling like a whole new dog with a very grateful owner, who booked a standing appointment every three weeks for the rest of the year on the spot.

I still hope her brother steps on a Lego, though.

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I’m a woman in my twenties. I’ve been having recurring joint pain and severe fatigue for quite a while. I brush it off for several months until I literally fall asleep at my desk at work.

Around this time, I have my yearly labs drawn for my primary care provider (PCP), and several numbers come back elevated. I Google what this means, and it says that those numbers mean inflammation somewhere in the body. I ask my PCP, a man in his fifties, about this at my yearly appointment a couple of weeks later.

PCP #1: “How did you know that those numbers mean inflammation?”

Me: “Google.”

PCP #1: “Why are you Googling things?”

Me: “I had to wait two weeks for this appointment, and I was curious. So, why are those labs so high?”

PCP #1: “You’re on birth control. That causes inflammation.”

Me: “I’ve been on birth control for years with no issues. Why would it be doing that now?”

PCP #1: “Your numbers aren’t that far out of range. Any other questions?”

Me: “Actually, yes. I’ve been having a lot of joint pain, and I’m tired all the time. I’m wondering if that’s related to my labs.”

PCP #1: “If you lost weight, you wouldn’t be in pain. Work out more.”

Me: “…excuse me? I walk on the treadmill almost every day for thirty minutes. I do yoga, too. It hurts too much to do anything else.”

I’m average weight for my height.

PCP #1: “Go outside and run. You’ll have more energy. If that doesn’t work, you probably have chronic fatigue syndrome.”

I walk out of that office wondering if I am imagining everything. I eventually move out of the area and get a new PCP, also a man in his fifties. It takes over a year for me to bring up my symptoms, as I am afraid of being blown off again. At this point, my labs and symptoms are significantly worse.

PCP #2: “So, your inflammatory labs are really out of range. Are you having any odd symptoms?”

Me: “I have a lot of joint pain, and I’m tired all the time.”

PCP #2: “Did you fall recently? Pull a muscle?”

Me: “No, and no.”

PCP #2: “Hmm. When did this start?”

Me: “Um… last year, maybe two years ago. It’s been a while.”

He drops his notepad and stares at me.

PCP #2: “YEARS?!”

Me: “My previous doctor didn’t think it was serious.”

He shook his head and started asking about the joint pain’s location and severity. He referred me to a rheumatologist, who ordered a ton of labs and imaging. I was diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis and started on medication immediately.

Related:
A Very Patient Patient

I have ADHD, so I frequently find myself begging the world to do the impossible. My strategy is to just be as nice and thoughtful as I can figure. 

It was a couple of weeks into the university semester, but I was not allowed to enroll in classes. I was a re-entry student, and I’m old enough that I actually suffered through chicken pox. When I initially went to school, I just checked a box that I’d had the virus and wrote that it was in 1997.

It is assumed that students these days have gotten the chicken pox vaccine, and it is required. I can’t get the vaccine because I’ve had the illness, and I had to get a blood test to prove it.

I needed an appointment, and normally, it would take days or weeks, so when I set off to the school clinic with no appointment, my friends were shocked at my hubris and sure that I would have grave disappointment. But I just figured I could give it my best magic.

There was a grumpy lady at a desk. I looked at her body language a bit and noticed that she had a cool hat. Then, I approached carefully and tried to smile just big enough without looking unhinged while doing a cautious wave and a little nod-bow. People like her are treated terribly by students, and I didn’t want to remind her of someone she didn’t want to help.

Me: “Um, so I know my lack of planning doesn’t mean your emergency…”

She actually smiled at that and clearly warmed up to me.

Me: “It’s okay if you can’t help me, but I have a sort of funny situation, and I thought that if by some miracle you can, great, and if you can’t help, then we can laugh together.”

I also complimented her hat. She did think what I said was sort of funny — or she thought I was funny, due to being a weirdo.

In any case, the whole interaction took less than five minutes. She created a lab work order and texted her coworker to make sure I would get seen that day. Somehow, I was the first person they saw after their lunch.

People are so nice to me when I blatantly point out that I’m being ridiculous and they don’t need to bother with me. I also frequently have the expected bad consequences from avoidance and procrastination, but I’m always so touched and amazed when people decide to save me from myself.

My mother is at her first OBGYN appointment following the birth of my youngest brother. While she’s nowhere near the oldest person they’ve seen postpartum, she’s definitely on the older end, and given that my brother was completely unplanned, she tells the nurse that she wants to revisit her birth control options.

Nurse: *Snottily* “You know, most women your age would love to be pregnant.”

Mom: “I just had my fourth child.”

There’s a pause.

Nurse: “I’ll put you down for a consultation.”

Luckily, the actual doctor gave my mom zero sass and she got an IUD without any fuss.

I work in an orthopedics department in a hospital. Today, I had a telephone conversation that happens way too often.

Patient: “Can I get an appointment with one of your elbow specialists?”

Me: “Of course. What seems to be the problem?”

Patient: “I was out walking with my dog earlier this week, and he suddenly pulled very hard on his leash. My elbow bent the wrong way, and now it hurts and I can’t really use it. I also heard kind of a pop.”

This sounds like a dislocated elbow, but as I’m not a doctor, I can’t give medical diagnoses over the phone.

Me: “Ma’am, I think you should come to Emergency Care. This sounds urgent.”

Patient: “Really? Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. This sounds serious. They can do some physical exams and medical imaging. It’ll be way faster than any appointment I can give you. Even if it turns out that it’s nothing, you should have it checked out. Please visit Emergency Care at your first possible opportunity.”

Patient: “If you really think so…” *Hangs up*

Sadly, I don’t have easy access to the Emergency Care records, so I can’t confirm that she went. But how can you go, “My elbow bent the wrong way,” and not realise you should have it checked out immediately?!