I work as an optometrist. One of my coworkers snags me when I’m briefly leaving my room.

Coworker: “Hey, can you sign this prescription for me real quick?”

A signature is required in order for the prescription to be valid.

Me: “Yeah, sure thi— Wait. This says [date roughly ten years back].”

Coworker: “Wait, what?”

It’s an easy mistake if you only glance quickly before you print it. He takes back the paper, checks the date again, and heads back to the counter where a man is waiting.

Coworker: “It seems your last exam here was about ten years ago. This prescription is no longer valid. I’m sorry, but—”

Man: *Interrupting* “What do you mean? You can’t know what [the Swedish military] accepts! Just give me the prescription!”

He goes on a rant about how we can’t know, we should just sign it and let him try, etc. I smell a major nuisance, so I head over and get involved in order to spare my poor unprepared coworker.

Me: “I’m sorry, but it’s way out of date. Prescriptions are only valid for a year; there is absolutely no way they will accept this.”

Man: “Well, you don’t know that! They might accept it!”

Me: “Sorry, but no. Someone’s vision can change a lot even in just, say, two years, in terms of what correction they need and how they see with and without glasses. Ten years is way too much for me to sign—”

Man: “It hasn’t changed! You could at least let me try! You don’t know; they might accept it!”

Me: “I can guarantee they won’t. We could still book a new exam for you—”

Man: “But I just did an exam in another shop this summer. My vision hadn’t even changed!”

Okay, genius, then what in the entire world are you doing in OUR shop? Where you haven’t been for roughly ten years, mind you?

Me: “Which shop was that?”

Man: “Well, I don’t remember that! My vision hadn’t changed!”

Me: “Well, there’s no way for us to know that without a new exam. Maybe your best option is to figure out where your last exam was and ask them—”

Man: “Oh, come on. Seriously? Just give it to me! You don’t know if they accept it!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but this is no longer legally valid. I can’t sign it. They won’t accept it.”

And this is where the man finally swore under his breath, did a full 180, and stomped out of the shop muttering about how awful we were. I just exchanged incredulous looks of get-a-load-of-this-guy with my equally confused coworkers.

Dude. I may not know the exact rules of the military, but I can guarantee you that the first thing their guidelines say about prescriptions and vision certificates is, “Must be less than a year old.” We are merely saving you from a waste of time.

Also, I am quite proud of my incredible restraint in not pointing out that the last time he did an exam with us, I, now a fully licensed optometrist, was literally still in elementary school. I wonder if that would’ve given him some perspective.

I’m a generally agreeable person but I can tell you that hospital visits generally put people a bit on their bad side. I’m actually amazed at the patience of the nurses and other personnel. I’m writing this during my second trip to the hospital via ER in three weeks.

The first time, I called 911 at 1:00 AM and then called my daughter to lock up my house and take care of my dog. The last thing I remember was blacking out in the ambulance. I was given Propofol, a sedative, and only remember some brief discussion and cutting off my shirt.

I woke about thirty-six hours later, a little disoriented, of course. I had pneumonia. A nurse gave some instructions. Then, a short bit later, another nurse came in to do something… nursey… and then she looked over why I’m there.

Nurse #1: “Oh, you’re the guy!”

Me: “I’m what guy?”

Nurse #1: “Well, I heard there was someone on this side of the ICU that ripped out of his restraints and removed his own breathing tube. Nobody’s ever done that before.”

Me: “I did?”

Nurse #1: “Yes. Apparently, you were ranting about being kidnapped. A doctor talked you down and you passed out again.”

A few days later, I did notice bruises on my hands that had to be caused by my Hulk routine. Over the next few days, though, I found nurses coming to my room and lingering. This seemed strange to me. Then, some nurse trainee (who was probably older than eighteen but looked sixteen or seventeen) was introduced to me. The other nurse left but she stuck around. We made a little small talk, and then I paused so she had the chance to go do her duties.

Trainee: “Can I stay here?”

Me: “Well, I guess. Don’t you have things to do?”

Trainee: “No. They don’t really give me much to do. I’m bored. Can I stay and talk?”

I figured, “Why not?” We chatted a while until she realized she couldn’t stay much longer. She bounced out of the room and down the hallway with a happy goodbye and more energy than I think I could ever muster in my entire life. Next day, one of the senior nurses was in my room and clearly not leaving and talking to me about… whatever.

Me: “Is it slow today?”

Nurse #2: “Yeah, it’s a bit slower than normal for some reason.”

Me: *After a pause* “Are you hiding?”

Nurse #2: *Blushing slightly* “Yes.”

Hospital visit number two, my daughter took me herself through the ER. My breathing capacity was probably a sixth of normal and I was suffering. But I simply cannot let go of my sense of humor.

Nurse #3: *Cheerfully* “How are you tonight?”

Me: “Is that the best question to ask someone in the E.R?”

Nurse #3: “Well, since you put it that way, I guess not.”

Me: “You realize I’m teasing you? It’s a good question. But to answer it properly, I can barely breathe. Otherwise, most of the rest of me is intact.”

I got my comeuppance. The next morning, a nurse come to do something else nursey. Everyone was in masks, so I didn’t recognize her at first.

Nurse #3: “Hi. I’d ask how you’re doing, but someone last night told me I shouldn’t do that.”

When I realized who it was I blushed and laughed. I should mention that the staff at the hospital are all remarkably friendly and wonderful.

Finally, today, I was talking with my nurse. It’s clear I only need one more night here to work with a CPAP machine.

Me: “I think I’m being released tomorrow.”

Nurse #4: “I hope not. I hope you’re here through Monday.”

I was thinking to myself, “Does he really think I need that much treatment? Do they want more money?” So, I just asked:

Me: “Why is that?”

Nurse #4: “You’re an easy patient.”

At that point, through the walls, we heard the terrible wailing of another patient.

Me: “Great. So to get out of here earlier, I just have to be cranky?”

They are all great people… BUT I WANNA GO HOME!

My neighbour was sitting watching his TV late in the evening when there was a very loud banging on his front door. Wondering who would be calling at this hour, he opened the door.

Standing there was a man wearing all the anti-[health crisis] gear; mask, scrubs, and a biohazard suit.

Man: “I’m [Man] from Social Services. We got your emergency call, and more help is on the way.”

My neighbour, not knowing what this was all about, looked at him blankly.

Man: “Come on! Let me in so I can start the treatment.”

My neighbour was still looking at him blankly.

Neighbour: “What are you talking about? I haven’t made an emergency call to anyone. No one here is sick. I don’t know who you are, so I’m not letting you in.”

The man was starting to get impatient.

Man: “We got an emergency call from here, [number] at [block of units].”

Neighbour: “You have the right number but the wrong complex. That block is down the road a bit further.”

Man: *Obviously shocked* “Oh, d***. I must have misread the number.”

He grabbed his phone and started talking quickly and loudly as he dashed off.

I hope he found the right person, but you would think that people doing that sort of job would have a better idea of where their clients live.

I am working at the entrance of a hospital. My coworkers are sitting near our cart with supplies, and since there isn’t enough room, I’m sitting at a table just across the entryway from them. A patient comes down from a unit in rough shape, walking slowly, kind of hunched over and carrying a catheter bag. 

After being there for a few minutes:

Patient: “Do you guys have a [mumble] bag?”

Coworkers: “A what bag?”

Patient: “An emesis bag.”

My coworkers are silent.

Me: *Blurting out* “Like to throw up!”

They moved pretty quickly after that.

They quickly grabbed her a bag from the cart, and then she staggered outside. 

People who work in my position have a variety of backgrounds and don’t have to have training in medical terminology, especially since we do not provide any kind of patient care. I do have training in terminology, and I’m thankful I remembered what it meant! I’m also surprised the patient used the correct terminology! Hopefully, the patient recovers soon!

Me: “I have been feeling very anxious for a year or so, and now it is seriously starting to interfere with my daily life.”

Doctor #1: “It’s probably just stress. Let’s start you on this dose of [medication] and we’ll follow up in a couple of months.”

I continued to see him for a year or so, during which he only changed my dosage once and continued to brush off my symptoms as “stress”. Even if it was stress, I knew I was reacting in a way that wasn’t normal. Finally, I had an incident that caused me to black out. I went to the doctor again.

Me: “I’m really scared now, especially that this will happen again. I’ve been looking up my symptoms. Could it be possible that I have [condition]?”

Doctor #1: “Probably not, and even if you decide to pursue a diagnosis, it will take years and a lot of invasive tests. You may not even get a positive diagnosis because it’s that hard to test for. However, if you want, you can find a specialist.”

I never made it to a specialist. I ended up having another incident that resulted in serious injuries and I was in the hospital for weeks. The one good thing is that I had access to other doctors, and after describing my symptoms, they were able to run some tests.

Doctor #2: “We’ve concluded that your symptoms and accidents are caused by [condition I initially suspected].”

Me: “Really? My regular doctor said it would be virtually impossible to get that diagnosis!”

Doctor #2: “He did? You have all the major hallmarks; in fact, the primary one you complained about is particular to this condition. I can even show you on one of the imaging tests where the problem in your body is. I can’t believe your original doctor went that long without upping your dosage or trying you on a different medication!”

Fortunately, my condition is now under control after a lot of trial and error with numerous medications. Part of me still wants to go back to my original doctor and rub it in his face.