(I am seventeen years old and visiting a doctor with my dad concerning my severe anxiety problems. My dad has resisted taking me to see any therapy or psychiatry specialists for a long time, but has finally relented after realizing the issues I’ve been having aren’t just “hormones.” To my knowledge, this isn’t at a psychiatrist’s office, but a regular doctor — I think for insurance purposes. The first visit results in an anti-depressant medication for some reason. This first medication makes me less anxious but also causes me to sleep upwards of FIFTEEN HOURS a day, and I am incoherent and running into things, falling over, etc., within twenty minutes of taking it each day. I even have difficulty getting up out of a chair to walk the ten feet to my bed after taking it. I remember falling constantly and being hazy. The second visit results in a different medication that doesn’t have any noticeable effect, and also no real side effects, either. This third visit is the check-in to see how the [second medication] was working.)

Me: “I don’t know that these are working properly. I don’t feel anything different. I’m still anxious all the time.”

Doctor: “So. This medication isn’t working. Why are you depressed? Your mother — she loves you? Your father loves you? Think of happy things.”

Me: “Um. I’m not depressed. I have anxiety problems with insomnia and persistent heart palpitations.”

Doctor: “Okay, so, this medicine isn’t working. We’ll switch back to [first medicine]. [First medicine] worked.”

Me: “It… didn’t work, though. I wasn’t anxious because I was really sedated. I was sleeping almost the entire day and night.”

Doctor: “Yes. So, first medicine worked. Here’s a prescription.”

Me: “I’m not taking that again. It was awful.”

Doctor: “It worked. You will take [first medicine] again.”

Me: “No.”

(The doctor then ignores me completely and turns to my dad, instead.)

Doctor: *oddly firm and creepy* “The [first medicine] worked. She will take it.”

Dad: *pause* “Yeah, okay. Give me the script.”

(My dad took the script and we trashed it when we got to the car. It had gotten to the point where my dad was concerned the doctor was going to claim parental negligence and call CPS on him if he agreed with me! We never went back to that doctor again, and I’ve since had a lot of traditional therapy and am doing much better. Did I mention that doctor owned the pharmacy attached to his office? Shocker.)

(I am pregnant with my firstborn. After a great deal of reading up on the subject and a conversation with my uncle, a prominent obstetrician, we decide to use a certified nurse-midwife and a birthing center. Unfortunately, the due date comes and goes, despite multiple efforts at bringing on labor naturally, including walks, cohosh, and cod-liver oil. Finally, the midwife sets it up for us to go to the nearby hospital for some Pitocin to be applied topically. By this point, I’ve been lying on a table in a cubicle for several hours and am already stressed out because of the overdue baby and because I’ve had to go to the hospital. I am sure they will make me stay, and I don’t want that. Finally, a resident walks in. He pokes around for a bit.)

Resident #1: “How many days past due are you?”

Me: “Nine days.”

Resident #1: “You know, the fetal mortality rate spikes after fourteen days.”

(The resident walks out. Later, a different, female resident comes in. She pokes around for a while. Then:)

Resident #2: “Your cervix is off to the side.”

(The resident walks out. By now, I’m hysterical. Thankfully, the midwife phones right that minute to check on me. I blubber out what the resident said about the cervix.)

Midwife: “She just means that it’s off to the side right now. It will move into position as part of labor.”

(I still think that the first resident’s completely gratuitous information was because he was annoyed that he wouldn’t get to do a delivery. The kicker? My contractions started the minute we were in the parking deck on our way out of there. Our son was born about nine hours later, in the birthing center, with the midwife.)

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

(I have a health plan provided by my employer. One of the benefits of the plan is a yearly health check. Once all is complete, I get a call from a “medical professional” to go over the results. I’m pretty healthy except for a bad cholesterol level. After talking on the phone about the rest of the results and my diet preferences, we get to my cholesterol.)

Medical Professional: “Based on the results from the blood sample, we have noticed that you have a very high bad cholesterol level.” *explains the difference between good and bad cholesterol* “…so we really do need to try and bring your bad cholesterol down. We can do this through medication and by controlling your diet. I would start with reducing the amount of red meat and dairy you consume.

Me: “I’m vegetarian, so I don’t eat meat, and I have an allergy to dairy.”

Medical Professional: “That’s good, very good. That’s a good start to reduce your meat intake, and the dairy, like cheese.”

Me: “Well, I’m vegetarian, so my meat intake is zero; I’ve been vegetarian for around twenty years. I’m also lactose intolerant and have an allergy which means I haven’t eaten cheese, milk, or any other dairy, like cream, in about ten years.”

Medical Professional: “Great, so that’s great. It’s settled; you will reduce your red meat and dairy.”

Me: “I haven’t eaten meat in twenty years, and I’ve been allergic to dairy for over ten years.”

Medical Professional: “So, you’ll reduce your meat and dairy? With your cholesterol being so high, I really do think you should consider some diet changes and reduce the intake of meat and dairy.”

(Pause.)

Me: “Could you please help me to understand how to reduce meat and dairy when I haven’t eaten any meat in over twenty years and I haven’t eaten dairy in over ten?”

(After about two or three minutes of being on hold:)

Medical Professional: “I think you should arrange an appointment with your doctor to go over these results, as you aren’t listening my advice.”

(Two weeks later in the doctor’s office:)

Doctor: “You should reduce your intake of meat and dairy.”

Me: “I’m vegetarian; I haven’t eaten meat in twenty years and I have a dairy allergy.”

Doctor: “Well, in that case, let’s go through what other options are available for you.”

Me: “Perfect… Let’s do that.”

(My husband is having a day-long series of medical tests at a Veterans Administration hospital in Kentucky. I drove him there, so I am camping out in the waiting room working on some homework on my laptop for the supply chain management courses I am taking online. I have been working for about an hour and a half when I am approached by an elderly man.)

Elderly Man: “What are you doing on that computer?”

Me: “I am a Transportation and Logistics Management student at [Well-Respected Online college]. I am working on the homework for my supply chain management courses.”

Elderly Man: “Why aren’t you going to nursing school?! Nursing is the only respectable occupation for a woman!”

Me: “What? I can’t qualify for nursing school because I had a stroke a few years ago and my right hand is partially paralyzed.”

(I hold up my right hand and show that I can only use my middle finger and thumb.)

Elderly Man: “But you could be a nurse if you tried harder! Why are you playing with that silly supply chain management stuff? Only men do that!”

Me: “I also have an active Class-A commercial driver’s license to drive tractor trailers.” *reaches into my purse to pull out my license* “I like transportation!”

Elderly Man: “But nurses are so sweet! You should be sweet like a nurse!” *motions to one of the VA nurses*

(The VA nurse chimes in:)

VA Nurse: “I wouldn’t want her as a nurse with that hand of hers. She would never pass nursing school, anyway. I have met [My Name] before, and that woman is planning on going to law school after she finishes her bachelor’s degree because of the way she has argued her husband’s VA disability claim.”

Elderly Man: “How disgraceful! A woman working as a truck driver and wanting to become a lawyer! Why can’t women be sweet and realize their place in the world?!”

(I put my earbuds on and cranked some Bon Jovi on my laptop and tried to ignore the old coot until he was called for his appointment.)

(My husband is the customer in this one. He’s at his appointment to check his numbers for high blood pressure to see if he would be okay on his current prescription or not. While it’s important to note that he doesn’t have a hearing problem, he does tend to not listen, and sometimes it can be rather amusing.)

Doctor: “Now, breathe deeply.”

Husband: *does so*

Doctor: “Cough.”

Husband: “Clap?”

Doctor: “Cough.”

Me: “She said, ‘cough,’ dear.”

Husband: “Clap?” *claps*

(All three of us started laughing. The doctor admitted it made her day. I’ve teased him since about putting this online.)