(I am a medical lab scientist. I receive a urine sample from the ER to test only for drugs, marked as belonging to a fifteen-year-old boy. The sample is quite clear — if someone is really hydrated that can happen — and it’s cold. We usually receive urine still warm, but sometimes it sits while they decide if they want to test it for anything. It’s negative for all the street drugs we test for. I release the results and then, a bit later, I get a call from a nurse.)

Nurse: “Hi. I was just wondering about the drug screen for [Patient].”

Me: “Sure. What do you need?”

Nurse: “Well, it was cold when he gave it to me, and I just don’t quite believe it’s negative. Is there anything you could do to find out if it was water?”

(I think for a moment and come up with a few fast things that I could do to find out whether or not it is water.)

Me: “Yeah, let me grab it and try something.”

(I do a really quick test and come up with something you would not expect for pee.)

Me: “Either this kid is in very severe kidney failure, or this is water.”

Nurse: “Thank you. I just graduated and passed my boards, so I’m still learning knowledge-versus-wisdom. Now I know when I feel like the urine feels cold, I should do something about it.”

Me: “Did you want me to credit those charges?”

Nurse: “Yes. We will be recollecting. And there will be a male care tech going in that bathroom with him.”

Me: *laughing* “I would imagine.”

(Once I get off the phone, I do some more chemical testing and learn that this sample has none of the chemical properties of urine. This kid didn’t even think to try the one where you dilute your actual pee with water — which we can also catch — or even to just put WARM water in the cup. It was straight, cold, tap-water. I walk across the lab to tell this one to the other lab scientists, one of whom is known for being extremely cynical about everything.)

Cynical Coworker: “That nurse is way too nice. I’d catheterize the kid. Teach him to never do that one again.”

(We then started a prizeless pool, guessing what the kid was on that he was trying to hide. In the end, the actual urine arrived, and it was positive for marijuana.)

I work as a bank teller. One morning a customer walks in, and I notice that he is both extremely pale and has a rasping cough as he approaches me to make a withdrawal. Just as I grab his money and begin to count it out in front of him, to my horror, he suddenly turns his head to the side, coughs violently, then begins to vomit a large amount of blood.

My coworkers quickly move to get the customer a chair to sit in as I call 911. During the commotion, an apparent acquaintance of the customer rushes in and helps hold him upright to walk him to the chair

Less than five minutes later, an ambulance arrives and takes the customer away. We learn the acquaintance is actually the customer’s neighbor. The customer had been feeling very unwell the last few days, and the neighbor had agreed to take him to the hospital, but he wanted to stop at the bank first to make sure he had some cash on hand if necessary. We block off my teller station and call in professional cleaners to come and clean up the potentially hazardous blood.

A few months later, I am working at my usual station again when I call for the next in line and suddenly realize I am talking to this same customer. I almost don’t recognize him, as he has much more color to his face and appears to have put on some necessary weight. He also recognizes me, and apologizes again for the incident. It turns out the pain he was experiencing was from his appendix, which actually ruptured as I was waiting on him. He says that the doctors have now given him a clean bill of health, and then he leaves, after jumping up and down a few times to show how much his health has improved.

(I’m getting my teeth cleaned when the dental hygienist strikes up the following conversation.)

Hygienist: “How was your weekend?”

Me: “Well, I had to work Saturday, but Sunday was okay.”

Hygienist: “Do you always work six-day weeks?”

Me: “I work every other Saturday.”

Hygienist: “What do you do?”

Me: “I do pest control.”

Hygienist: “Ooh! I couldn’t do that! That’s just… yuck!”

Me: “Well, you stick your fingers in other people’s’ mouths all day.”

Hygienist: “Oh. Yeah.”

(I am at the dentist’s for a general cleaning, with a hygienist I haven’t been with before. Things are going normally until this happens.)

Hygienist: “Oh, wow. Wow. This is really unusual.”

Me: “Is… Is something wrong?”

Hygienist: “Let me get the dentist. I have never seen this before.”

(By now, I am panicking in the chair a little. The hygienist leaves, then comes back with the dentist, and they both look into my mouth.)

Hygienist: “Look at her uvula. Isn’t it a weird shape? I’ve never seen that before.”

Dentist: “It just has a bit of an indent in the middle.”

Hygienist: “Her uvula looks so weird. I’ve never seen that before.”

Dentist: “All right, [Hygienist], you can go now. I can finish up this cleaning.”

(The dentist told me it was nothing to worry about and barely noticeable, then finished the cleaning without issue. No dentist or hygienist had ever told me I had a weird uvula before.)

(My military career has me outdoors most of the time, usually in very hot and sunny places. Several years later, I develop a rough patch on my face and am referred to a specialist who listens to my history and diagnoses a precancerous lesion. He recommends that it be removed right away, during this visit, and I agree. He leaves the exam room, and I overhear him giving instructions to the nurse.)

Nurse: “So, what kind of local do you want for her?”

Doctor: “We can do this without it.”

Nurse: “Without anesthetic? Are you sure?”

Doctor: “She was a Marine. She can take it.”

(Gee, thanks, Doc!)