(One evening, as I am working, I end up standing up and smacking my head against a shelf, leading to a head wound that starts bleeding rather profusely. I clean up a bit and get an old rag to hold over the injury. My manager gets one of my co-workers to drive me over to the ER to get checked out. We arrive, and start to get checked in, when an old man speaks up behind me.)

Old Man: “F****** kid, bumped his head and trying to get attention. Go home, you p****! There are people that actually need to be here!”

(I turned, because I was not quite sure if he was talking to me, revealing the side of my face that had a few streaks of blood down it that I hadn’t managed to clean up. Right as I turned, a new line of blood leaked out and rolled down the side of my face, as well. The old man jumped and actually half-slid out of his seat, before standing up and scurrying over to a chair across the waiting area from where I was. I got checked in, and they confirmed that it was just a typical head wound, no concussion or internal bleeding. As I left, I spotted the old man being let in, and he turned away, beet red. Maybe he’ll learn to not be so quick to judge.)

(I broke my leg and have just been loaded into the ambulance. The paramedic gives me some morphine. I get a little silly once the drugs kick in.)

Me: *to paramedic* “Oh, you smell so goooooood.”

(Once I get to the hospital, they temporarily sedate me to set my leg. I wake up as they are wrapping my leg in gauze. My leg is puffy and white.)

Me: “Hashtag marshmallow!”

(I just got into a pretty bad car crash. I refuse medical assistance because, well, that’s expensive. I call my boyfriend to help me, and he brings his buddy who always brags about being an ex-Marine medic. In my shock, I keep insisting we go to the home of a friend whose cats I am taking care of, saying that we can’t let them starve. We get there. I’m bleeding everywhere, my face is swelling, and my hand is turning blue for some reason.)

Boyfriend: “I’ll feed the cats. You just sit down. Wait. You need ice. I’ll get ice!”

Buddy: “You need to clean out these cuts. Does your friend have rubbing alcohol?”

Me: “I don’t know. She’s got three bathrooms in this place. Look around.”

(They run around like headless chickens for a minute.)

Buddy: “I don’t see any.”

Me: “There is a store up the road.”

(He disappears and comes back five minutes later, holding a vodka bottle.)

Buddy: “They didn’t have rubbing alcohol. I got this!”

Me: “Where did you go?”

Buddy: “The gas station.”

Me: “And you didn’t notice the drug store on the other corner?! Give me that.” *I take a big swig straight from the bottle* “It will do, but I’m never calling you for rescue again.”

Boyfriend: “What about me?”

Me: “Are the cats fed?”

Boyfriend: “Yes.”

Me: “I’ll call you; just don’t bring him with.”

(And yes, I did clean out my wounds with vodka, because the buddy didn’t want to go out again, and my boyfriend was afraid I would get up the in-shock energy to kill said buddy if we were left alone together. Good times.)

(I’m a patient sitting in the waiting room of a walk-in clinic. Although I try not to, I overhear the following conversation, as the patient is being extremely loud.)

Patient: “I want to see [Doctor].”

Receptionist: “I’ll see if I can get her for you, but if it’s urgent, we try to send patients in to doctors as they become available, and [Doctor] will be off the clock in twenty minutes. You’ll probably be waiting longer than that.”

Patient: “My friend told me [Doctor] is the best one, and I came on a Thursday because he said she works on Thursdays!”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry you were inconvenienced, ma’am. In future, if it’s urgent, please come in right away. All our doctors are fully qualified to help you.”

Patient: “Well, what about next Thursday? Will she be in, then?”

Receptionist: “Again, if you come late in the day, she may not be able to help you.”

Patient: “I can’t come any earlier! I’m at work until five, and I’m sure as hell not going to take time off if you can’t guarantee that I’ll even get to see the right doctor! This is absolutely ridiculous! I’m coming in next Thursday at 5:30, and I expect to see [Doctor]!”

Receptionist: “Ma’am, it doesn’t work like that.”

Patient: “Well, why the hell not?!”

Receptionist: “Because asking to see a specific doctor at a specific time is called an appointment, and this is a walk-in clinic.”

Patient: *glares at the receptionist, crumples up her sign-in sheet, and stalks out the door*

(I work in a hospital in a mid-sized city as a CNA. We like to refer to our dietary service as “Room Service” for some reason. A patient hits the call light.)

Patient: “I need to talk to you about my diet. Room service won’t let me order hardly anything on the menu.”

(I call down to room service. Apparently, the patient has eggs listed on her allergies in her chart, so naturally, they won’t allow her to order anything with eggs in it. This is kind of a problem at breakfast time. I head back into the room.)

Me: “It seems that our dietary department has eggs listed as one your allergies.”

Patient: *deep sigh* “No, I’m not allergic to eggs. I’m allergic to egg yolks.”

Me: *with a look of confusion on my face* “Um, I’ve never heard of that. What happens when you eat egg yolks?”

Patient: “They make me gag, but I can eat scrambled eggs with no problem. As long as they’re mixed in, they don’t bother me.”

Me: “I don’t think that’s an allergy; I think you just don’t like runny yolks.”

(It took me a full four hours of bugging the nurse and the doctor to change this woman’s diet, because this woman in her sixties didn’t know the difference between allergies and foods she doesn’t like.)

Related:
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 12
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 11
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 10