A Cyst-emic Problem In Healthcare

, , , , , | Healthy | October 14, 2019

(I get fed up with my old doctor refusing to do anything other than tell me to “just lose some weight” and I go to a new clinic.)

Doctor: “I see you changed practices. Do you have any medical files with you or are they sending them over?”

Me: “They might send them over, but they’re going to be next to empty and claim I’m only overweight. My last doctor didn’t pay any attention to any of the symptoms I would tell him about. If it doesn’t happen in front of him he thinks it doesn’t happen ever, and all he would ever tell me is that I need to lose weight. I know I need to, but I’ve honestly been dieting and exercising and nothing has happened. I’ve had hormone problems my entire life, but he just kept telling me to eat better.”

Doctor: “That sounds… bad. Okay, tell me what’s going on with your hormones, and I’ll have a nurse come in and draw your blood for labs. You also seem to have a small lump on your neck.”

Me: “Yeah, I’m prone to cysts. I was going to get it looked at if it didn’t go away. Getting them drained isn’t pleasant, so I wait and see if they take care of themselves before I go in.”

Doctor: “I’ll take a look at it, anyway. You’re already here, might as well.”

(I leave the appointment satisfied that the doctor didn’t mention my weight at all except to ask if I’ve noticed any fluctuation with it. A week later, the doctor calls me back in.)

Doctor: “I ran your labs and, like I thought, you also high levels of testosterone. You have something called–“

Me: “Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome or PCOS?”

Doctor: “Exactly.”

Me: “I asked my old doctor about that years ago since I’m prone to getting cysts on my ovaries, but he never tested me for it.”

Doctor: “Well, I did, and you definitely have it. You also seem to have some thyroid problems, and I’d like for you to get a biopsy of the lump on your neck.”

Me: “Really?”

Doctor: “Yes, since I saw you last week, it’s gotten bigger, and I don’t think it’s a cyst.”

(It wasn’t. It was a cancerous tumor on my thyroid. When the surgeon opened me up to remove it, cancer had already spread to the surrounding lymph nodes, which then also had to be removed. After some radiation and chemo, I’m in remission, but if I had stayed with the old fat-shaming doctor, I’d be dead. Thankfully, that doctor retired and no longer “treats” patients.)

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Best Early Anniversary Gift Ever

, , , , , , | Working | October 13, 2019

(My boyfriend and I have been together since I was in ninth grade. We’re out for lunch at a fast food place.)

Waitress: *to me* “What can I get you?”

Me: “I’ll have a chocolate shake.”

Boyfriend: “I’ll have fries, a cheeseburger, and a… vanilla shake.”

(The waitress nods, smiling at my boyfriend, and then disappears. She comes back with my boyfriend’s order, but mine takes an extra fifteen minutes. She kinda throws it down, which makes it threaten to fall over. I ignore her, until she comes back with two stacks of napkins. She hands one to each of us, and my boyfriend looks at his for a second before sneering.)

Boyfriend: “Be right back, babe.”

(Turns out, she has written, “If you ever want to dump the slut and hit me up…” with her Snapchat handle and number on the napkin. My boyfriend goes over and shows it to the manager, and then tells the manager that he wants to do something first, before the waitress gets chewed out. So, he comes back to the table, grabs my hand, takes me over to the door to the kitchen, waits until the waitress comes out, and dips me.)

Boyfriend: “Happy anniversary, babe!” *kisses me*

(Our anniversary isn’t until August, but… Best. Present. Ever. Her face was hilarious when I came back up for air.)

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Maybe He Should Move To America

, , , , | Right | October 11, 2019

(This took place nearly a decade ago. I’ve already voted and am just waiting for my wife to finish. I see an old man being wheeled in by three ladies, who I assume to be his wife, daughter and granddaughter. After entering, the old man takes a good look around before loudly asking a question:)

Old Man: “Where the f*** do I vote for the Nazis?!”

(Most of the voters freeze, and several stare at the old man. The ladies with him all look either shocked or embarrassed.)

Daughter: *sounding shocked* “Dad, you can’t f****** vote for them anymore.”

(They left quickly, and I never saw the old man ever again.)

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The Mother Of All Birthdays

, , , , , , | Related | October 11, 2019

(Every few years, my birthday falls on Mother’s Day, but I don’t have a mother, so I usually just focus on my birthday.)

Coworker #1: “Hey, [My Name], what are you doing for Mother’s Day this weekend?

Me: “It’s actually my birthday on Sunday, so I’m going out with some friends that night.”

Coworker #1: “I didn’t know it’s your birthday! Were you born on Mother’s Day?”

Me: “I was, actually, so it’s not unusual for my birthday to fall on the day itself.”

Coworker #1: “Are you doing anything with your mom?”

Me: “No, we… I don’t have a mother.”

Coworker #1: “Oh, I’m sorry. What are you and your friends doing?”

Me: “We’re going to–“

Coworker #2: “Wait, I thought you lived with your mom when you started working here.”

Me: “Yeah, I did. It was bad, it didn’t work out, and I moved away as soon as I could.”

Coworker #2: “So, you do have a mom but you’re not even going to call her?”

Me: “No. I’m not.”

Coworker #2: “But it’s not right; she’s your mom!”

Me: “Look, my mother is not a good person; let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

Coworker #2: “I can’t believe you’re a person who would cut her mother out of her life.”

(I just walk away. Later, I finish up my work duties and am about to clock out when [Coworker #2] ambushes me by the time clock.)

Coworker #2: “What was that, earlier? You lied to [Coworker #1] about not having a mom and then got snippy with me when I called you out on it.”

Me: “All right, look, I’m going to say this once: my egg donor is a very bad person. She lies, steals, and manipulates every single person she comes in contact with. I moved in with her when I was a homeless teenager to get off the streets, but not even six months into the arrangement she stole all of the money I’d saved and kicked me out of the house — on my birthday, no less — because I caught her in a lie. And when I pointed out that her stories didn’t match, she screamed at me, dragged me out of the house by my hair, and locked the door behind me. I was on the street again for almost a week. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since, and I plan on keeping it that way. If you have a problem with that, then that’s your issue, not mine. To avoid this exact situation, I just tell people I don’t have a mother. It’s not a lie to me; that woman birthed me, but that’s it. That doesn’t make her my mother. Now move. I’m done with work and I’m going home.”

(To her credit, [Coworker #2] did apologize to me and bought me a little gift for my birthday, and we got along just fine until I changed jobs. Not everyone has good parents, and that includes mothers, people! Try to remember that, especially with the whole “I judge people by how they treat their parents” thing that has been going around lately.)

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Aisle Stick Around To See What Happens

, , , | Right | October 9, 2019

(I’m in line at the supermarket at the main railway station and it’s packed; the lines reach the aisles easily. An old lady is queuing at the beginning of one the aisles with a little private shopping trolley beside her. I’m in the queue next to her. A young woman comes up to her; she wants to get past her, but with her trolley beside her she pretty much blocks the space, though she would just need to put the trolley in front of her to make room to pass.)

Young Woman: *politely* “Excuse me? Sorry? Could you move your trolley a bit?”

(The old lady pointedly looks at the woman and then turns away, not moving.)

Young Woman: “Excuse me. You are blocking the way; please move your trolley.”

Old Lady: “I’m standing here; just go back around the aisle if you need to.”

Young Woman: “Why should I? You could just move and let me through.”

Old Lady: “What are you, too lazy? Get lost!”

(Everybody is watching the free entertainment and wants to see how this goes down. But, it seems that the smarter person gives in. The young woman huffs but lets it go to walk back to the aisle. The old lady THEN scoots forward as the line moves, and grumbles under her breath. Suddenly, the young man ahead of her speaks up rather loudly.)

Young Man: “Did you just call her a b****?!”

Old Lady: “That’s none of your business!”

Young Man: “Oh, it definitely is; that was my wife!”

(It’s like in a western when the big baddie enters the saloon. Everybody is all ears, the beeping of the cashier is slowed down to an absentminded slow pace. Fittingly, the young woman just comes up from her detour and gets into the obviously close one-armed embrace of the man. He gives the old lady a stern look, and she gets out of line to slouch back into the aisle with her head down. As I am paying, I notice the old lady talking to security close to the checkout. She seems rather agitated and points at the checkout with the couple, who are just getting to pay. I deliberately take my time to put away my stuff; this I want to see, like everybody else. The security guy talks in his mic and listens to his earpiece a bit. He nods to whatever he says and makes an inviting gesture to the old lady towards the checkout with the couple. Her look is triumphant and as they both get near the checkout, she confidently yells:)

Old Lady: “There they are, the [German Racial Slur]s who attacked me!”

(Everybody is silent and listening, no beeps of scanned products are heard. The security guy then cooly says:)

Security: “There are two ways to handle this right now. Either you apologise to these two nice people and I just ask you to leave on your own, or we call the police to help you find the right words and the door.”

(The old lady’s face at the realisation of her plan failing publicly is a show I would pay money for; so many colours, indeed. She looked at the security guy and then at the couple. After some seconds, she pressed out something that sounded enough like “sorry” and then flew from the store.)

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