Cold-Blooded Humor

, , | Healthy | November 16, 2017

(I received a call from my doctor after having some blood work done, telling me to get to the ER immediately for a blood transfusion, as my hemoglobin levels were critically low. A friend of mine takes me and stays with me for support. She likes to try and lighten the mood with a sarcastic sense of humor. This occurs when the nurse brings in the first bag of blood and hooks it up to my IV…)

Me: “Oh, wow… that’s a strange sensation!”

Nurse: “What? It’s not burning is it? Does it hurt?”

Me: “Not at all… It’s just really cold! I’ve never felt cold inside my body before.”

Friend: “Cold? Geez, Nurse! Can’t ya warm it up a little for her?”

Nurse: “…umm.”

Friend: “Just throw it in the microwave for a few minutes! My friend says it’s too cold here!”

Nurse: *mouth agape with a look of horror*

Me: “[Friend]… I don’t think she knows you’re joking.”

Friend: “Oh… Oh, my god! I’m totally joking! Just trying to lighten the mood!”

Nurse: “Oh, thank goodness! I mean, whatever you want to do on your own time, sure… but I’m not wasting precious O negative in this hospital for your little experiment here!”

(We had a good laugh after that. And after two bags of the red stuff my hemoglobin levels were back up to normal!)

Addicted To Death

, , | Healthy | November 16, 2017

(I am eleven years old. My mother works in the kitchen of the local hospital and sometimes her duties involve delivering food trays to the patients. I remember her talking about the times on one floor where she would hear people moaning and crying, begging for morphine, as they lay painfully dying from whatever cancer was taking them from this world. One day, when I am out front of the hospital, I begin talking with a nurse who is waiting for the bus. We touch on a few topics until I remember my mother’s worlds about the terminally ill patients.)

Me: “My mother works in the kitchen and delivers food trays. She has told me about the dying people begging for morphine. Why don’t you give them what they need?”

Nurse: “Because they could become addicted, of course!”

Me: *I pondered her words for a few moments then replied* “Well, why don’t you give them the morphine they need, and then when they die, cut them off?”

Nurse: *giving me the stink-eye* “Little smart-a**!” *walks away in a huff*

Too Bad You Can’t Transfuse Out Racism

, , | Healthy | November 16, 2017

(This happened to one of my professors in the 1970s while they were working in a hospital’s blood bank dispensary. It wasn’t uncommon at that time for people to be somewhat fixated on the concept of receiving blood from their own race only. Some people falsely believed that “black blood” would “turn you black,” and all sorts of other ridiculous racist things. A patient who has recently received a blood transfusion somehow gets their number.)

Caller: “What color was the blood you gave me?”

Professor: *knowing what they’re asking, but refusing to play* “Red.”

Caller: “No. Where did it come from?”

Professor: “From someone’s veins, out of the goodness of their hearts.”

Caller: “No, I mean, what type of person did it come from?”

Professor: “A generous, kind, and loving one. Look, I don’t know their race, and it doesn’t matter anyway, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did know.”

Caller: “F*** you!”

Will Come Down With Swine Flu

, , | Healthy | November 15, 2017

(I work at a small clinic which has a break room right next to my desk, so I smell everyone’s reheated lunch. I don’t eat pork.)

Me: “Do you have to eat that at my desk? It smells awful!”

Coworker: “Oh, you’ll be fine. Your hot cop is coming in today.”

(I have a regular patient who is a cop.)

Me: “He’s not ‘my hot cop.’ He’s twice my age.”

Coworker: “Whatever.” *walks away, taking her rancid lunch with her*


(Right then my “hot cop patient” walked around the corner, and if looks could kill… Needless to say, when he came in for follow-up, I just happened to come down with the flu that day.)

Take (Medi)Care To Stay Alive

, , , | Healthy | November 15, 2017

(I am with my grandmother, who gets tons of sales calls, which everyone in the house finds obnoxious. One day, I answer the phone for her.)

Salesperson: “Hello, this is Medicare. Can I speak to [Grandmother]?”

Me: “She’s dead.”

Salesperson: “Okay, I’ll make a note of that on her file. Goodbye.”

(He hangs up. My grandmother is staring at me in shock.)


(Naturally, I freak out. I’m near hysterical as I call the company and tell them what I had done.)

Medicare Person: “Did someone call the house? Because Medicare only calls if you have made an appointment in advance. We still have her alive on here.”

(So luckily they were scammers. However, I will never do that again. Ever.)

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