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

(I am a female and a teenager. I’m temporarily on a medication that has a lot of side effects, one of the main ones being high cholesterol. I have no prior history of high cholesterol, though. I’m at the doctor’s office with my mom specifically to check that the side effects of the medication are not getting out of hand.)

Nurse: “Okay, so, looking at your results, your cholesterol is higher than it should be.” *addressing my mom* “Mom, no more serving hamburgers, and no more fast food! All that salt, red meat, and fat is really bad for teenagers, even if that’s all they want to eat.”

Mom: “Actually, we never eat fast food, and we’ve been eating pescatarian for the past few months.”

Me: “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve gone to a fast food restaurant in years.”

(The nurse looks a little flustered at this point.)

Nurse: “Well, I know how teenagers are in the summer, so try to do some walking, at least! No more laying around on the couch all day!”

Me: “I’ve actually been swimming a mile every day, and I am working as a lifeguard.”

(The nurse is starting to look annoyed, like she doesn’t believe us.)

Nurse: “Right… Well, you need to fix this, or we’re going to have to put you on medication, and you’re too young to be on cholesterol medication.”

(My mother is getting annoyed and defensive now.)

Mom: “She’s on [Medication]; that’s the whole reason we’re here! Isn’t high cholesterol one of the side effects of the medicine?”

Nurse: *glaring at my mom* “Well… Sometimes.”

Mom: “Don’t you think that might be the reason she has high cholesterol, then?”

(The nurse just walked out at that point, and we didn’t see her the rest of the visit. We mentioned it to the doctor later, but she just said, “Well, your cholesterol is kind of high.” Luckily, once I got off the medication a few months later, my cholesterol dropped back down. But seriously, at least ask questions before making patronizing assumptions about someone’s diet and exercise.)

(I’m Bipolar I and not medicated. We’ve tried a few different combinations of drugs for me, but unfortunately I either have side effects or it simply doesn’t help anything. While therapy has been helpful, it’s not perfect; I still need the occasional trip to a psychiatric hospital. For this particular incident, I am sent to a completely different hospital, which I later learn is more adequately equipped to handle patients seeking drug rehab. However, even that seems to be inaccurate, as I learn during my three-and-a-half day visit. On day one, a patient and the head of the wing are talking in a common area:)

Patient #1: “When do you think I can go home?”

Doctor #1: “Sunday. Your insurance lets us hold you another week.”

(For a little context, during a previous group session I had with [Patient #1], he mentioned he’s been here almost two weeks and the head of the group commented on how much progress he’s made. As my stay continues, it isn’t uncommon to overhear the nurses gossiping about how they can’t believe the doctors still won’t discharge [Patient #1]. Day two: one of the other patients is a new mother with apparently no thought filter. As a result, she frequently talks about how she has to pump if the subject even remotely drifts towards family or children. One of the other patients finally gets fed up with it and a fight nearly breaks out. Unlike the mother, the other patient is allowed to leave the wing to go have lunch in the cafeteria.)

Doctor #2: “Okay, [Patient #3], you just lost your cafeteria privilege for today.”

Me: “But doesn’t [Patient #2] have to stay up here, too?”

Doctor #2: “Of course.”

Me: “So, you’re going to lock them in the wing together when most of the staff is down in the cafeteria?”

Patient #1: “Besides, isn’t [Patient #3] getting discharged tomorrow?”

(After enough of us band together, the doctors finally agree the best thing they can do for both patients is to separate them. Also of note, a fourth patient is discharged at the end of day two, with a certain nurse helping her gather her things. On day three, though I’ve only had three or four sessions with her, I bid [Patient #3] farewell as she is gathering her things from the storage locker with the same nurse who assisted yesterday’s discharge. Just as I go to leave:)

Patient #3: “Where’s my backpack?”

Nurse #1: “Your what?”

Patient #3: “My backpack. I came in with a pink backpack from [Brand]. Where is it?”

Nurse #1: “We only had one like that. It was [Patient #4]’s, wasn’t it?”

Patient #3: “Wha?!”

Nurse #1: “She said that bag was hers. We gave it to her when she left last night.”

Patient #3: “YOU GAVE HER MY BACKPACK?!”

Nurse #1: “Sorry. We’ll call the police and report the theft.”

Patient 3: “WHAT THE F***’S THAT GOING TO DO? SHE’S BEEN GONE A DAY ALREADY! WHY DIDN’T ANY OF YOU NOTICE THE BAG WASN’T LABELLED FOR HER?” *begins crying*

Nurse #1: “Calm down! It’s just a backpack!”

Patient #3: “THAT BACKPACK HAD MY WALLET IN IT! WITH MY LICENSE AND SOCIAL SECURITY CARD! YOU LET HER STEAL MY IDENTITY!”

Nurse #1: “We can replace those things!”

Patient #3: “IT HAD THE ONLY PICTURE I HAVE OF ME WITH MY FATHER! YOU CAN’T REPLACE THAT! HE DIED AFTER I WAS BORN!”

Me: “Get the f****** police already, you dips***!”

(I didn’t know what else to do. The police do show up, though I have no idea how this story ends or if anything was done about [Nurse #1]. On day four — my release day — I’m sitting in the common area playing cards, waiting for my girlfriend to show up and drive me home. Needing a fourth for Hearts, one of the nurses agrees to join us.)

Nurse #2: “[My Name], you sure know how to pick ’em. Of all the weeks you could’ve shown up!”

Me: “I’m amazed, too.”

Nurse #2: “Yeah, but this ain’t even the worst of it. One patient last year always ran his mouth. ‘I’m in for bestiality!’ ‘I’m a member of the local KKK and they think this’ll cure me!’ and on and on. All cause he didn’t want to admit he tried to kill himself after his girlfriend broke up with him.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Nurse #2: “Yeah, he just kept making excuses to justify the cuts on his arms.”

Me: “You can’t tell us that! His medical records are still privileged!”

(I’ve never been back. I haven’t looked it up yet, because I’m truly frightened that it might still be open.)

(I’m midway through my pregnancy and have been putting off getting the whooping cough vaccine, so I call my doctor to schedule an appointment.)

Me: “Hi. I was wondering if I could book an appointment for the whooping cough vaccination?”

Receptionist: “What’s your name and date of birth?”

Me: “That’s [My Name] and [date].”

Receptionist: “It says here you’re 22 weeks.”

Me: “Yep.”

Receptionist: “Then, no, you can’t have an appointment.”

Me: “Um, right. Is there any reason why not?”

Receptionist: “The vaccine is only available from 26 weeks.”

Me: “Oh, right. I thought [Doctor] said I could get it from 16 weeks. I must have misheard. It’s okay, though, I can wait another four weeks.”

Receptionist: “Let me check with the doctor. Hold the line.”

(Pause.)

Receptionist: *sarcastically* “Well, I guess the doctor just knows more than me, huh? Clearly I’m just a receptionist, so I wouldn’t know anything. Apparently you can get it from 16 weeks.”

Me: “So, can I book an appointment?”

Receptionist: “At 11 on Monday.”

Me: “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

Receptionist: “The vaccine isn’t free, you know.”

(Most health care is free while pregnant in Ireland, but things like vaccines aren’t.)

Me: “Yep, that’s fine. I have no issue paying.”

Receptionist: “Good, because you have to pay. You’re not getting it free.”

Me: “I know.”

Receptionist: “Because it’s not free. You have to pay.”

Me: *Pause* “Is there anything else you need from me?”

Receptionist: “No, but when you come in for the appointment you have to pay.”

Me: “Okay, bye now.”

(I work as a speech therapist. While I mostly work with children, I have a handful of adult patients with brain damage. As most of them aren’t able to walk, I visit them at home. All of the patients have fixed appointments once or twice a week. After some recent changes, I end up with an awkward schedule — driving from one end of the town to the other, back and forth — that makes me lose about two hours a week due to driving. I plan to coordinate this better and ask all of my patients if they are okay with different times and/or dates. It works well with everyone at first. I talk to one of my patients, a senior citizen, whom I visit every Monday and Wednesday.)

Me: “I plan to change my weekly schedule. Would it be okay if we moved Monday’s sitting from 11:00 to 13:50?”

Patient: “Well, the physical therapist is there until 13:45, so it should be fine.”

(On the next Monday, I arrive at 13:55. The physical therapist is still with her.)

Me: “Oh, am I early? I am sorry. I thought you two would be done by now”

Physical Therapist: “Oh, no, we still have 15 minutes left. We always have until 14:10.”

Me: “I’m sorry; I didn’t know that. [Patient], we need to reschedule our Monday’s appointment.”

Patient: “Huh? Why? I thought it would be only once. I figured we could cut the therapy a bit shorter today and go back to normal next week.”

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t do that, as I already gave that time to another patient. I am so sorry that I didn’t make it clear that the change would be permanent. My schedule is packed, but what about Tuesday, 11 o’clock instead of Monday?”

Patient: “I am at the daycare on Tuesdays and Fridays”

Me: “That isn’t a problem for me. We have lots of patients in day care. I could visit you there, if that’s okay with you?”

Patient: “Yes, let’s do this.”

Me: “Okay, so now, instead of Monday, I will visit on Tuesdays every week.”

(With everything being clear, we start practicing. On Wednesday I visit her as always, reminding her of our new permanent appointment once again. The next Tuesday, I drive to the day care facility to find her completely surprised, but not by the fact that I showed up there today.)

Patient: “Where were you yesterday?”

Me: “We’ve moved the appointment from Monday to Tuesday. That’s why I’m here today.”

Patient: “Yes, we talked about you coming here on Tuesday, but I didn’t know that meant Monday would be cancelled.”

Me: “We have to have therapy twice a week, so instead of Monday and Wednesday, we now do Tuesday and Wednesday.”

Patient: “Ah, I see.”

(We go on normally. Everything works fine for two weeks, until I get stuck in traffic one Tuesday morning and don’t make it to her. I call her to let her know. The next day, I visit as usual.)

Patient: “Where were you on Monday? I thought you’d be here on Monday.”

(I start explaining again why I can’t come in on Mondays and how we moved it to Tuesday.)

Patient: “But I thought that would be only once. I didn’t know you wanted to come to the day care every week. Every time you come, I miss out on the games and quizzes we do there.”

Me: “I am sorry, but that’s why I asked you if it’s okay before I actually changed the plan. I don’t have many options left right now.”

(I feel bad for her, as I obviously didn’t explain it to her properly, so I explain it again and make extra sure she understood what happened. Finally, I offer to sacrifice one of my lunch breaks to make room for her.)

Me: “The only open appointment would be Thursday at 11:30.”

Patient: “No, that’s not possible, either. Can’t we do Monday, 11:00?”

Me: “As I already explained, I am on a huge tour and can’t be back before 13:30, which won’t work because of the physical therapy. Is there something else you do on Thursdays?”

Patient: “No, it’s just so inconvenient. Why can’t we do Monday?”

Me: “Because I asked you if we could change the time and date. If you had said no, I wouldn’t have changed anything. But I did, and your old appointment is no longer available. What would be a more convenient time for you?”

(Surprisingly, Monday at 11 was still the only time she was willing to agree, so I had to re-reschedule about ten patients, and now I’m back to my old awkward plan.)

(My family is friends with another family whose dad is an obstetrician/gynaecologist and also a huge joker. In our part of the world, there are sometimes weird pseudo-scientific food fads, including products containing colostrum which is the special milk that comes out just after a mother mammal gives birth — even though cow colostrum isn’t really going to help you unless you’re a calf. At a party, someone shows up with some of these “health” products:)

Friend: “Look, I brought these colostrum biscuits.”

Obstetrician: *takes one and munches on it* “Hmm, doesn’t taste like colostrum.”