Pushing Buttons Is Not Your Calling

, , , , , , | Healthy | January 6, 2020

I am in the hospital after having emergency surgery on a dislocated ankle and a broken leg. It is the middle of the night and my post-surgery pain medicine has worn off. I locate the nurse call button and press it, but nothing happens. I do this multiple times, to no avail.

I grab my cell phone and use the flashlight to light up the room telephone so I can read the number. I call the number and let the phone ring. It is loud and doesn’t stop, because I don’t answer it. After about five minutes, a nurse comes to investigate why the phone is ringing, and I am able to tell her I’m in extreme pain. 

She brings me pain medicine and tells me that they’ve had issues with the button in the past. It wasn’t unplugged or anything; it just flat out didn’t work! Why they’d still use it completely mystifies me!

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Giving Them The Stink-Eye

, , , , , , | Healthy | January 1, 2020

At my job, I’m considered a lead, so if an employee brings in any paperwork that needs to go to human resources or needs their paycheck, I handle it.

An employee came up to me, handed me their doctor’s note, and asked if they could get their paycheck. I put the doctor’s note in the scanner, and then I handed them the paperwork for their paycheck along with a pen to sign with. After they signed, I signed.

I then copied the doctor’s note, and as I was handing them their copy, I saw the reason they had been out: “conjunctivitis” or pink eye. I looked at them with a “Really?” look. 

I went to my locker and got hand sanitizer. As I came back to the desk, the employee told me, “You might want to sanitize the pen; I’m still contagious.”

I waited until she left and then sanitized the door handles to our office and threw away the pen. I sat there wondering about what an idiot she was while the other employees laughed at me.

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You Have To Spell It Out To Them

, , , , , | Healthy | December 29, 2019

(I have recently been diagnosed with epilepsy at age fifteen and am at my fourth or fifth neurology appointment. For some background, some types of epilepsy can be categorized as “reflex,” meaning there is usually a trigger — most people are familiar with flashing lights — but there are a huge variety of triggers, ranging from drinking alcohol to hearing a specific kind of music. I am describing to my neurologist some symptoms I’ve been experiencing.)

Me: “Sometimes while I’m reading, I’ll have spells where the words are very difficult or I can’t read them at all.”

Neurologist: *mostly disinterested* “Oh… Well, have you been diagnosed with learning issues?”

(I’ve told him all of this before.)

Me: “No. I’ve been reading since I was four and it’s actually one of my favorite things to do. I’ve never shown any signs of dyslexia or anything like it.”

Neurologist: “Do you notice any patterns to when this occurs?”

Me: “I’ve noticed it happening a lot when I’m reading in Spanish.”

(I’m in AP Spanish and have been studying the language for around six years; I’m definitely not fluent yet but am reasonably proficient. I have also told him this before.) 

Neurologist: *long silence* “You’re probably just bad at Spanish. Go ahead and schedule another appointment for a month out.” *leaves*

(I ended up not telling my parents about this part of the appointment for around six months because I was embarrassed and believed my neurologist that I was probably exaggerating. However, during this time, the symptoms worsened, so I told my parents who found another neurologist — incidentally, around thirty years younger. He immediately diagnosed me with reading epilepsy, which is fairly uncommon but absolutely not unheard of and has nothing to do with any prior learning disabilities. For me, it is triggered by unfamiliar words, which, obviously, come up more often in a second language. I’ve now, thankfully, been able to receive much better care.)

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Assign The Doctor A Memory Test

, , , , , | Healthy | December 27, 2019

(I have been going to the same GP since I was about fifteen, my daughter since she was born, but it seems to be time to find a new one as ours is showing his age; he has been getting more and more forgetful. I have ordered blood tests as I have developed some allergies recently; my daughter needs hers done for a heart issue and also needs a script for heart meds. He asks her what she needs this particular medicine for and we have to explain, even though he has been doing the scripts for the past five years. We get our bloods at the same time. He starts with my daughter’s and tells her that everything but her iron levels is in the normal range. He gives her the printed results to take to her cardiologist; he is going to print a copy for himself but he writes the results into her file. Then, he goes over mine. He reads out everything as good, but when he gets to my liver results…)

GP: “Oh, no, we need to get you some tests right away; your liver results are not good.”

Me: “Yes, I know. I have [liver disease].”

GP: “You have [liver disease]? Who told you that?”

Me: “You did.”

GP: “Not me. I would have remembered that. There would be notes and paperwork in your file.” *rifles through files to prove it isn’t there and finds the paperwork* “Oh, I did tell you.” 

(We realise that he’s not given us a new referral letter for the cardiologist appointment, so we go back.)

GP: “Okay, [Daughter], we need to get blood tests done for you to take to your appointment.”

Daughter: “I had the blood tests done already.”

GP: “Who with?”

Daughter: “Uh, you.”

GP: *rifles through her files and after looking over some paperwork* “Oh, looks like you have to get more sun; you have very low Vitamin D.”

Daughter: “No, you said low iron.”

GP: “No it’s Vitamin D. Look; it’s only sixteen.” *hands her a blood test result*

Me: “No, she had low Vitamin D last year; this time it was low iron.”

GP: “It says it right there.”

Daughter: “Um, this is last year’s result; look at the date.”

GP: “It has it on this result, too. You had the test in September.” *holds up another sheet that I take off him*

Me: “This is last year’s, too — September 2018. Her last one was in October this year.”

GP: “But the results aren’t here; if I did them they would be.”

Daughter: “You gave them to me.”

GP: “Why did I do that?”

Daughter: “I needed them for the cardiologist.”

GP: “But I would have written the results on your file and printed up a copy, as well; I definitely didn’t write anything.” *runs his finger up the writing on her files* “Oh, so I did.”

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Quite The Operation Santa’s Got Going

, , , , , , , | Healthy | December 25, 2019

(I work at a vet clinic that is open late night for emergencies and offers boarding. A couple of years ago, [Former Coworker] had to stop working in order to care for a disabled family member, but she left on good terms with the doctor and still has coffee with the manager regularly. Her son has been asking for a dog for quite a while now. Not just any dog, he knows the exact breed and color pattern he wants. At the staff meeting Monday, the doctor let us all know that [Former Coworker] was going to be surprising her son with a puppy for Christmas. She had found the exact dog he wanted and would be adopting it later this week and bringing it here to board with us until late Christmas Eve when she would pick it up. The morning she brings the puppy in, [Coworker] and I are working at the front desk. She is greeting people as they walk in and handling check-ins. I am checking out a family who just finished their cat’s exam. They have a little girl about six years old, too short to be seen over the counter from where [Coworker] is.)

Coworker: “Hello, how can I… Oh, hey, [Former Coworker], long time no see. So, this is the puppy Santa is bringing [Son]? He’s gonna be so thrilled; it’s exactly what he’s been asking for.”

Young Girl: *very loudly* “If Santa is bringing that puppy to someone, why is he here? Shouldn’t he be at the North Pole?”

(My coworker is clearly at a loss for words and starts sputtering.)

Former Coworker: *just hands [Coworker] the puppy and bends down to the girl* “Your parents haven’t told you? See, when Santa brings a child a pet he calls the parents first to make sure the house has everything that it needs, like food and toys and a dog bed, and space for the animal, and that the kid can take care of it. Then, if the parents say it’s okay, Santa looks all over the world to find the perfect animal, and then, because he doesn’t want the puppies and kittens to get bored in the sleigh and eat other kid’s presents, he has his helpers take them to a safe place near the kid’s house. So, Christmas Eve, Santa will come here and pick up the puppy right before coming to [Son]’s house.”

Little Girl: “Oh, so, that’s why when I got [Cat], Santa just brought her bed and food and had Mommy take me to the shelter after Christmas?”

Former Coworker: “Exactly, he knew [Cat] would be happier playing at the shelter rather than being stuck in his sleigh all night, and that she would just get into trouble with all the wrapping paper on Christmas morning.”

Mom: “That’s right; we got a call from an elf letting us know where [Cat] was.”

Former Coworker: “Yep, the elves have every parent’s phone number. Parents get calls from the elves to make sure they have the batteries and other things needed for the toys, helmets for when they get bikes, that sort of thing.”

(At this point, the girl’s family finishes paying and leaves, the little girl happily asking her parents if Santa has called them about presents this year.)

Coworker: *sighs in relief* “I can’t believe you thought of that so fast; I was so worried I’d just ruined Christmas.”

Former Coworker: *laughs* “Last year, my sister got caught by her girls setting up a playhouse, she told them that Santa was behind schedule and woke her up and asked her to put it together so it would be all ready in the morning. The girls just nodded and went back to bed, but in the morning, the oldest said it was a bit rude of Santa not to tell Mommy she would need to set it up. And we all agreed that Santa should have had an elf call first.”

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