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

(I have severe ADD and take Ritalin. I have been seeing a psychiatrist every six months for over a decade because it’s necessary to keep my prescription up, but normally we don’t do anything else. He asks me if I’m having side effects, I say no, he asks how school, work, or whatever is going, I tell him, he writes me a new prescription, and we’re done.)

Doctor: “And how are your classes going?”

Me: “Pretty well, except for this one lab where the whole grade is based on group work and my groupmates have disappeared…”

(I’m very frustrated with my classmates, and as I explain the problem with the lab, I start crying.)

Doctor: “Here, take these tissues! I had no idea you were so depressed. I’m going to prescribe you some medicine, and I want you to come back in a week for a follow-up.”

Me: “What? No, I’m just sleep-deprived! Your office is an hour from my house, and you get behind schedule so fast that my mom insists I book an appointment at seven am. I had to get up at 5:30 to be here! I’m a night owl; I get up at 10 or 11 if I don’t have anything I have to do earlier. I always cry too easily when I’m tired.”

(He doesn’t believe me and prescribes the medication, anyway. A week later, I’m back in his office.)

Doctor: “How are you feeling? If we need to, we can adjust the dosage before your next follow-up next week.”

Me: “Fine, like I was before, when I had slept. I know antidepressants take a while to kick in, but I don’t think these are ever going to affect me, because I’m not depressed. And I really can’t afford to keep experimenting with them; you know I don’t have insurance.”

Doctor: “I tried to find the cheapest antidepressants I could. I thought these were only about $10 a bottle.”

Me: “Come here. I want to tell you a secret.”

(He comes closer.)

Me: “You know those nice ladies behind the window in your lobby? They make people give them money before we can talk to you.”

(It had never occurred to him that visiting a psychiatrist every week instead of every six months might be a little pricey! I went off the antidepressants and am fine, as long as I don’t have to get up before dawn. Doctors, I know that lots of people really are depressed and it’s a serious problem, but people also know their own bodies, minds, and situations. It helps to listen.)

(I work as a veterinary technician. We are preparing to perform a blood draw on a dog to test for a specific disease that affects the production of hormones from the adrenal glands. The dog in question is not neutered and is likely used as a show dog.)

Owner: “So, this disease you’re testing for, is it hereditary?”

Me: “Yes, the factors that cause this disease can be passed on in a dog’s genes.”

Owner: “So, like… If he tests positive, would you recommend not breeding him?”

Me: “If he does test positive, then we don’t recommend that you breed him, as there is a chance he could pass the gene onto his offspring.”

Owner: “But it’s only a recommendation, right? I could still breed him, regardless of the results?”

Me: “Sir, as a medical professional, it’s a very, very strong recommendation that you should not breed a dog if it is certain that he has a specific hereditary disease. There is a very high chance he would produce more dogs predisposed to developing the disease. It would also ruin your reputation as a breeder if you did this knowingly. So, let’s just hope he comes back negative.”

(The owner seemed satisfied with the answer, but it troubles me that he was still considering breeding the dog if the test came back positive.)

(I work at an eye institute. One day, my coworker tells me about the following exchange.)

Coworker: “Do you have any allergies?”

Patient: “I’m allergic to whiskey.”

Coworker: “Okay… What kind of reaction did it give you?”

Patient: *completely serious* “It made me throw up.”

Coworker: “…”

(I am a foreign college student and I need to see a gynecologist for the first time. I also need to fill out a medical information form that’s all in Chinese.)

Receptionist: “Can you read Chinese?”

Me: “The basics, but I have trouble with medical vocab.”

Receptionist: “Okay, start filling what you can and come back when there’s no line.”

(I do so and the receptionist translates while I answer.)

Receptionist: “Okay, this says, ‘Are you sexually active?’”

Me: *circles yes*

Receptionist: “Okay, and this says, ‘What protection do you use? Check all applicable.’”

Me: “Okay, does it say, ‘dental dam,’ somewhere?”

Receptionist: “Huh?”

Me: “Um… for oral protection.”

Receptionist: “This is asking what you do to not get pregnant.”

Me: “So, it’s ‘contraceptive,’ not ‘protection’?”

Receptionist: “Same thing.”

Me: “No… It isn’t. Okay, where does it ask for the gender of my partner?”

Receptionist: “Gender?”

Me: “Yes. I’m sexually active with women, not men.”

Receptionist: *long pause, looks around as if for help* “Then you put, ‘No,’ for sexually active and skip these questions.”

Me: “Don’t you care about me getting STDs?”

Receptionist: “Huh?”

Me: “It means I can still get STDs, as I’m sexually active, but you want me to put, ‘No,’ for being sexually active.”

Receptionist: *blank stare* “Uh. Let me talk to the doctor.”

(I am not called back for a while, and when I am, it’s for the actual appointment.)

Doctor: “I’m sorry about the form. We never get people like you. Let’s continue.” *hands form back to me*

(I noticed next to the line asking about being sexually active, “lesbian” was written in, in English. She helped me fill the rest of the form, adding — in English — the details it didn’t support, with no further issues.)

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(I work at a call centre for a German online pharmacy. Unlike other pharmacies, we allow customers to pre-order medicines which requires prescriptions. It should go without saying, but we’re not allowed to ship orders that contain a prescription, until the original is sent to us by a postal service. There are also no shipping costs for our customer, if there is a prescription.)

Me: “Your [Pharmacy]. You are speaking with [My Name].”

Customer: “I placed an order last week at your store and it still hasn’t arrived. Where is it?”

Me: “Oh, that doesn’t sound so good. Could you please tell me your order number?”

(The customer doesn’t have it, so I search for her by name. It takes me a while to find her, as she has a very common name and doesn’t want to give me her postal code.)

Me: “Ah, there we have you. I’m afraid your prescription for [Medicine] hasn’t arrived yet.”

Customer: “This is outrageous! I do not need a prescription for that order! Send them to me at once!”

(I try to stay cool.)

Me: “Ma’am, [Medicine] requires a prescription, by law. We cannot deliver this order until we have the original prescription.”

Customer: “Then you should at least have told me so!”

Me: “Our online store has classified this item as one that requires a prescription. You have also received an order confirmation that asks you for your prescription.”

Customer: “No, I never received a confirmation, so don’t dare lie to me!”

Me: “Uh… Ma’am, I do not understand; you received the confirmation on [date and time].”

Customer: “No, I never did; I’ll show you!”

(I can hear her typing and the sound of a mail program opening. She waits for a moment, and then she starts mumbling to herself.)

Customer: “’Dear Mrs. [Name], thank you for your order. Please send us your your original prescription by mail, so we can continue with that order.’”

(The customer wheezes angrily.)

Customer: “This is way too complicated with your store! Other pharmacies will send them to me immediately!”

Me: “Ma’am, even other pharmacies have to wait for your prescription, as [Medicine] requires one.”

Customer: “I will never order at your store ever again! I’ve never been insulted this badly in my entire life!”

(The customer called the next day. She made a new order without the prescription and asked if that was all right.)