(I am a hearing aid technician running a clinic in a local GP surgery. I have no medical training at all. My clients wait in the main reception area until I call them by name.)

Me: “Mr. [Unusual Name]?”

Man: “That’s me.”

(He stands and follows me to the treatment room.)

Me: “Please take a seat.”

(I make a note on my paperwork before turning to him, only to find he’s removed his shirt and is untucking his vest.)

Me: “What are you doing?!”

Man: “You need my chest, don’t you?”

Me: “What for?”

Man: “To listen to my heart.”

Me: “I’m here to fix your hearing aids!”

Man: “What hearing aids? Nothing wrong with my ears!”

Me: “Um… I think there’s been a mistake. Please get dressed!”

(It turned out there were two men with the same very unusual last name, both in the waiting room at the same time. And of course, the man with the faulty hearing aids couldn’t hear me!)

(I have been pretty unwell with a virus for a week or so that has caused my asthma to flare up and has required me to take a short course of steroids. About a day or so after finishing the course, I start getting palpitations whilst at work, so I go to the hospital to see if it is something serious. This conversation happens when the doctor is arranging for me to get a chest x-ray.)

Doctor: “Any chance you could be pregnant?”

Me: “Nope.”

Doctor: “Okay, well, we still need you to do a pregnancy test.”

Me: *wondering why he even asked, then* “Why? There is literally no way I could be pregnant.”

Doctor: “Well, these things can happen!”

Me: “I’m asexual, doc.”

(The doctor frowns, looking a little confused.)

Me: *sigh* “I haven’t ‘been’ with anyone it over seven years. Trust me; there is no way I am pregnant.”

Doctor: “Look. The thing is that we just have to test all women, anyway. It’s kind of a rule.”

Me: “???”

(I had to take the test. Shocker, I was not pregnant.)

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I am working in an ER doing office duties, including admitting walk-ins. A phone rings.)

Me: “This is [Hospital] with [My Name] speaking. How can I help you?”

Caller: *absolute silence*

Me: “Sir or ma’am, are you unable to speak? Do you have a medical emergency?”

Caller: *still absolute silence*

(After about 60 seconds of silence, the caller hangs up. A few minutes later the phone rings again. The same thing happens again. I am getting really worried that this might be a bad emergency, like a stroke, that can leave a person without speak. I start wondering if I could communicate with the person using the phone’s dial tones and how to do it. But again, the person hangs up before I figure out a way to do it. The phone rings a third time. This time it’s the husband of a nurse, both of whom I know very well.)

Husband: “Hi, [My Name]. [Nurse] has really bad laryngitis. She can’t speak and can’t come to work today.”

Me: “Thank God. I was trying to figure out how to communicate with a person who can’t speak.”

(I have recurring nosebleeds. I’m at school when I get my first one this year, and I ask to go down to the nurse’s office. The nurse isn’t there, so I just wait around with a tissue under my nose to catch any leakage. After ten minutes, a nurse comes in. I have never seen her before.)

Nurse: “Look at all the mess you’re making! Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

Me: “I have a nosebleed. I can’t exactly stop it. All the blood is in the tissue, anyway.”

(She huffs and leaves the room. A few minutes later, she comes back with a plaster and attaches it to my nose — as in, over the nostrils — pushing so hard it makes the bleeding worse. I protest, but she leaves the room again. I yank the plaster off and some of the blood drips onto the floor. I’m in too bad a mood to clean it up. She comes back in.)

Nurse: “You messy boy! Look at all the blood on the floor!”

Me: “It’s one drop. I’ll clean it up before I go.”

Nurse: “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d kept the plaster on!”

(I swear at her — admittedly, this was wrong — and she storms out, returning with my tutor.)

Tutor: “[My Name], I hear you’ve been swearing at [Nurse]. You know our policy on this kind of behaviour.”

Me: “I’ll be more than happy to apologise, after she apologises for insulting me and acting like my nosebleed has been a personal grievance to her. She even stuck a plaster on my nose!”

Tutor: “[My Name]! You will apologise this instant, and I’m giving you a detention tomorrow. This is unacceptable behaviour. [Nurse] is the best nurse we’ve ever had!”

(I look between him and the nurse, who is looking triumphantly smug.)

Me: “That isn’t something you should be proud of.”

(I ended up with a week’s worth of detentions or that, but I refused to go — which my parents agreed with after I told them. The last straw was when they sent a letter home saying I had been suspended. My mum went down to the school to speak with the head teacher and the nurse. Apparently, she had only been in the building a couple of minutes when the nurse ran out in tears. The school retracted the suspension, but my parents moved me to a better school equipped with more competent staff.)

(After surgery on my leg, I need to pee, so I ask the nurse for help using the bedpan. After I’m finished, I can’t see the contents from my position but she obviously can, and she looks up with a horrified expression:)

Nurse: “This… This is your urine?”

Me: “Er, yes.”

Nurse: *speechless*

Me: “Oh! I forgot! I’m on my period!”

(She immediately sighs with relief. Sorry for scaring you, nurse!)