Due to a chronic condition, I needed to have a series of blood tests done, some of which required larger gauge needles than normal. I headed to the hospital closest to my apartment in Tokyo, waited to see the specialist, and got my notes to take to the blood draw lab reception.

The intake nurses were a bit flustered to be treating me, but my Japanese was good enough that I got through the first steps just fine. Then, I headed into the blood test room and the nurse there started telling me that the tests would hurt, the needles are pretty big, etc., and that in Japan, they don’t use skin-numbing cream. I assured her that I’d be fine, but she didn’t believe me and stomped out of the room to find a nurse that spoke English, despite the fact that we had been conversing in Japanese just fine.

I took off my cardigan, and my heavily-tattooed arms were now visible, right when the nurse came back, dragging a young doctor behind her. He looked at me and said to the nurse, “I think she’s okay with needles,” then burst out laughing as the nurse just gawked at me. Turns out I was the first foreign patient she’d ever taken blood from and she was terrified I’d flip out or faint because of the needles.

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(I work for a vet clinic.)

Me: “[Clinic]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, my dog is coughing. Do you know why?”

Me: “Well, that could be any number of reasons. You’d really need to come in for us to know.”

Customer: “Oh, so, you can’t diagnose over the phone?”

Me: “No?”

(I fall in my house while holding my two-year-old. As I fall, I turn my body to hold her against the wall so I do not crush her, and as a result, end up with a spiral fracture on my fibula, and a broken and dislocated ankle. When I arrive at the hospital, they try to wrench my ankle back into place but don’t quite align it, so they have to do it again. Of course, this time I know it’s coming, so they decide to use some sort of anesthesia that is meant to make the patient woozy and forget what happened. I’m concerned about whether this will work, and express that concern to the nurse preparing me for the injection.)

Nurse: “Don’t worry; you won’t remember a thing! It probably won’t hurt, either.”

Me: “Can’t you just use this with some actual pain medicine, too?”

(The only pain medicine I’ve received at ALL has been two doses of Fentanyl administered by the paramedics, an hour ago. Fentanyl at the dose I was given lasts 20 minutes, tops.)

Nurse: “Look: you won’t remember, and you won’t feel anything. The only time you might feel something is if I pricked you with a pin, or something!” *he says this as though he’s a genius for thinking of this persuasive argument*

Me: “You mean like the kind of pain I’d feel if someone was moving around my dislocated ankle?!”

(I remembered everything. They also acted like they were doing me a massive favor in keeping me overnight instead of sending me home with three broken bones before surgery the next day. I finally got pain medicine six hours later at the room they begrudgingly gave me, and the call button didn’t work! I had to call my own room phone number with my cell phone and let it ring until a nurse came, because I couldn’t find the nurse’s station phone number!)

(I’m at my ob-gyn office for a prenatal check-up. I’ve been going to this office for six years. A doctor I’ve never seen before walks in.)

Doctor: “You’re here to renew your hormonal birth control prescription?”

Me: “No?”

(I’m just entering my third trimester with triplets. He could see my belly if he’d look up from his phone. You could see my belly from the other side of the state at this point!)

Doctor: *looks confused for a second but still doesn’t make eye contact, instead condescendingly says* “You are aware that condoms aren’t 100% effective, right?”

Me: “Gee, I wish you’d told me that seven months ago…”

(He finally looked up and tried to pass it off as there being another patient in the office right that minute with my very unusual first and last name.)

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

Customer: *holding a box of OTC medication* “Excuse me. My wife is allergic to the Niacide family.”

Me: “Pardon? Do you mean NSAIDs?”

Customer: “No! NIACIDES!”

(I give him a puzzled look.)

Customer: “You know, ibuprofen and stuff!”

Me: “Right… NSAIDs.”

Customer: “Oh, whatever. Can she take this or not?”

(Then he showed me a box of acetaminophen.)