My parents came to visit me in Japan. On the second day of us all being together, we were walking through the hotel garden and my mom hurt her foot. She iced it as soon as we got back to our room, but an hour later she couldn’t put any weight on it. The hotel we were staying at organized a taxi for us to a local hospital that had an ER open at midnight. We got there and the doc and nurse that cared for my mom spoke English. It was midnight and they had English-speaking staff on duty!

When they wheeled my mom into the ER from the waiting room, she had an anxiety attack, so back to the empty waiting room we went for the rest of her care. In the end, she had broken her foot — her big toe really. There was nothing that could be done for that but for her to stay off it.

Yeah, right. Day two of a two-week vacation in Japan? Ha! We rented crutches for the next two weeks and borrowed the hotel wheelchairs wherever we stayed.

After getting back to the hotel, the staff there were able to organize a rental wheelchair for us for our week in Kyoto.

Before Kyoto was Hiroshima. Our hotel was basically connected to the train station by a long walkway. Dad contacted the hotel, and two employees met us at the ticket gates with a luggage trolley and a wheelchair. At the end of our stay, one pushed Mom to the station as Dad and I had the luggage. Dad used the wheelchair to get Mom up to the shinkansen waiting room and returned the empty chair to the hotel staff member.

In Kyoto, the rental company delivered the wheelchair to the door of our B&B and collected it from Kyoto station, after we wheeled Mom up to the shinkansen platform.

After returning to Tokyo from Kyoto, Mom made her way to a waiting room. I went from ticket gate to ticket gate to get a wheelchair to get her from the shinkansen waiting room to the local train line. The employee wheeled her from the waiting line to the ticket transfer gate where two local line employees met us. One pushed Mom and the other lead the way, breaking traffic. It was over 700m to get to our train and Mom would never have made it on her crutches.

At the train, Mom was asked to sit on the train seat and the ladies took the wheelchair. At our exit, another employee was there with a wheelchair. She took us to the Tokyo Monorail line where we had another employee and chair. He got Mom onto the monorail where yet again there was an employee waiting with a chair for Mom.

Japan is nowhere near as wheelchair friendly as the US. People here have smaller personal bubbles and got too close to my mom for her comfort, but the level of care my mom got from train and hotel employees was amazing.

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(While cleaning a route for climbing, some rocks come loose and hit my foot. I am a few hours from the nearest town, and about six from the nearest hospital. Because the pain is manageable, I just lace my boots up and get a ride to the hospital a few days later. I will admit to looking more than a little scruffy at this point, and bathing hasn’t exactly been a common occurrence over the past few months due to lack of facilities.)

Nurse: “Why are you here today?”

Me: “I think I broke my foot.”

Nurse: “Why do you think that?”

Me: “Around 45 pounds of rocks fell on it a few days back, and I can move one of the bones around.”

Nurse: *rolls her eyes* “Are you sure that’s not just a joint? If you broke something a few days ago, you would have come in a few days ago.”

Me: “Well, it wasn’t really an option because I was two hours outside of [Small, Rural Town] and had to wait to get a ride to here. Plus, it’s really swollen and I don’t think the arch of my foot has a joint in it.”

Nurse: “If you want pain meds, just admit it. I’m not wasting time on a room for you if you’re just looking for pills.”

Me: “I haven’t asked for any medications at all, and I just want an x-ray of my foot.”

Nurse: “No. You clearly want drugs. I’m not wasting time on you anymore. Just leave. Try the methadone clinic across the street.”

Me: “No. I am not leaving until someone actually examines my foot!”

Nurse: *rolls eyes again and motions to the security guard* “Listen, if you won’t leave, we’ll have to escort you out.”

Me: “Just have someone actually look at my foot! I don’t want pills, I don’t want a room; just have an actual doctor look at my d*** foot!”

(The security guard looks at me and the nurse.)

Nurse: “Get her out of here; she’s a junkie.”

Guard: *looking confused* “Has she asked for pills? Or been violent to you? Because I haven’t seen her threaten you, [Nurse]. I don’t see why she needs to leave before seeing a doctor.”

(The nurse stomps away but returns a few minutes later, dragging a doctor by the sleeve.)

Nurse: “See? She claims she broke her foot days ago and just now came in for it. She’s clearly looking for drugs or a place to sleep.”

Doctor: “Have you actually looked at her foot yet, [Nurse]?”

Nurse: “No! She’s gross and clearly faking it! She doesn’t need treatment; she needs a f****** job!”

Doctor: “Let me see your foot, ma’am.”

(I take off my boot and sock. Apparently, one of the bones has moved around; it’s now visibly poking up.)

Doctor: “[Nurse], get out of here. Her foot is clearly broken. Go find something else to do, instead of your asinine crusade against people who you don’t like.”

(I got my foot x-rayed and got a boot for it. I broke it in five places and the doctor said I was lucky to not have caused permanent damage by not getting it set right away. The nurse had to send me an apology letter for her behavior, and I learned to shower and look nicer before going to a hospital!)

(I’m in the ER with my husband after he broke his arm. A woman and her adult daughter are in the curtain area next to us. From what I can gather, the older woman had a fall and hit her head; she doesn’t remember what happened and has lost her hearing aids. The nurse is asking her some general questions. It is 2014 and we live in Australia.)

Nurse: “Okay, just a few questions. What is your full name?”

Older Woman: “[Older Woman].”

Nurse: “Great, and your birthdate?”

Older Woman: “Pardon?”

Daughter: *bit louder* “Your birthday, mum”

Older Woman: “Oh, it’s [birthdate].”

Nurse: “Who is the prime minister?”

Older Woman: “I’m sorry, what?”

Daughter: *louder again* “Who’s the idiot that runs the country?”

Older Woman: “Oh, that’s Tony Abbott.”

(My husband and I couldn’t help but laugh. The nurse had a good chuckle, too.)

(My first experience with a migraine is not a fun one. I lay in bed for two days and nothing works. I am ten at the time. My mom decides to take me to the ER to get stronger medicines since I am missing school and crying any time I am awake. After waiting for an hour, I am taken back and they begin prepping for medicine.)

Doctor: “All right. I’m going to give you a shot to help your head.”

Me: “W-what? I didn’t…”

(I start crying again due to a fear of needles while my mom comforts me. The doctor preps the shot.)

Doctor: “All right. Going to count to three and then we’ll stick you. One… Two…”

(He then jabs the needle in. I scream and jerk away because I wasn’t prepared, causing blood to get all over my arm.)

Doctor: “What the h*** was that for?! You’re ten! Grow up!”

Mom: “And you stabbed my child! You said, ‘On three’!”

Doctor: “Well, if he wasn’t such a brat—“

(A nurse comes in at that moment and sees me crying with blood all over my arm, my mom cornering the doctor, and the doctor with the needle still in his hand. The doctor shoves my mom away and all but slams the needle into the nurse’s hand.)

Doctor: “You take care of this spoiled brat!”

(The nurse patched me up and waited until three to stick me. It took a few tries, but we finally got the medicine. Once it took effect, I don’t remember anything, but, from what I heard, the doctor was fired because he was too rough with patients. One even almost died because of him.)

(My adult daughter has multiple medical issues, including vasovagal syncope — she faints — triggered by several things, including vomiting and even small blood draws. I am with her for support and as her driver in case of problems when she goes to get a routine blood draw that requires multiple vials. Due to insurance issues, she is going to an unfamiliar lab and has called in advance to verify that there is a bed available for her to lie down for the draw, as it’s the only way to prevent an event. She is called by the phlebotomist.)

Phlebotomist: “Please have a seat here in this chair and we’ll get started.”

Daughter: “I need to lie down or I’ll faint. I was told you had a bed available?”

Phlebotomist: “Oh, was that you who called? Please just sit down. I draw blood every day, all day, and I’ve never heard of such a problem.”

(It’s actually fairly common.)

Daughter: “I have vasovagal syncope triggered by having my blood drawn. I’d rather lie down so I don’t end up on the floor.”

Phlebotomist: “There isn’t a bed available. Now, you’re holding up the process as there are several others also waiting to have their blood drawn. We’ll just have to deal with it if it happens, which I know for a fact it won’t. I’m very good at my job.”

Daughter: “I’d rather wait for a bed. How long will it be?”

Phlebotomist: “We don’t have any beds in the lab. We’d have to go to the doctor’s office next door, and I’m not going to do that. These chairs recline a bit; I’ll put it back and you’ll be fine. Now, are you going to get the blood drawn or not?”

Daughter: *not wanting to make a scene and needing to have the procedure completed* “Okay, but I warned you; you can’t say I didn’t.” *and to me* “Mom, please come in and be ready to catch me.”

(The phlebotomist prepares my daughters arm for the draw, commenting about how she’s never seen anyone actually faint from a simple blood draw, and what a wuss my daughter is for having to have her mother present for the procedure. When she inserts the needle and starts to draw the blood, my daughter’s eyes roll back and she starts to slide out of the chair.)

Phlebotomist: “What’s happening?! Wake up, wake up! You can’t do this to me! Please, Mom, hold her up while I finish!”

(So much for not keeping the others waiting. She was out cold on the floor for several minutes, and it was over half an hour before she could stand to even get into a wheelchair to leave the room. They’ve since installed a fully reclining chair in the lab, and the phlebotomist learned a valuable lesson about listening to the clients. Also, my daughter will now not allow anyone to draw her blood unless she is fully lying down and will not take “no” for an answer.)