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

(I’ve suffered from cold sores for about six years, and normally I only get two or three a year. Over the last six months, I have had them repeatedly, one after the other, so I decide to go to my doctor. I make an appointment, but I have to wait three weeks for it — this is a pretty normal wait time for an appointment in my area.)

Me: “I read on the NHS website that if cold sores get this bad and persistent, there’s a medication that can help to treat it.”

Doctor #1: “Why do you think you need a prescription medicine? That’s pretty drastic.”

Me: “I’ve had non-stop cold sores for six months, and that isn’t normal. The creams from the pharmacy aren’t working.”

Doctor #1: “Yes, but lots of things cause cold sores. Sunlight, poor diet, being on your period.”

Me: “Well, I haven’t been on my period for six straight months! My diet hasn’t changed, and it’s winter, so I haven’t been in the sun.”

Doctor #1: “It could be a response to an infection. I’ll send you for a blood test, but I don’t want to give you tablets for something so minor.”

(It takes a week to get the paperwork for the blood test — it has to be done at the hospital — a week for me to be able to get my blood tested, and another week before the results come back. I then have to wait another two weeks to see my doctor to discuss the results.)

Doctor #1: “Your tests showed elevated white blood cells, which is a sign of infection. But I think it’s a false positive, so I’ll send you for another blood test.”

Me: “What makes you think it’s false? You said it could be an infection.”

Doctor #1: “Well, I think you did have an infection, but it’s gone now. I’ll send you for another one and compare the results.”

(Cue ANOTHER TWO weeks of waiting for the blood test and test results.)

Receptionist: “The doctor says your blood test came back normal and he doesn’t need to see you. He says there’s nothing he can do.”

Me: “What?! That’s not right! He hasn’t done anything!”

Receptionist: *quietly speaking to me* “I recommend you see another doctor. They can look at your results and you can get a second opinion.”

(I have to wait ANOTHER THREE weeks to see a second doctor, so by this time it’s been more than eight months of cold sores.)

Doctor #2: “”You’ve had cold sores for EIGHT MONTHS?!”

Me: “It’s been Hell; I’ve had either a sore, a scab, or a scar on my face this whole time. The creams aren’t working, I’ve tried every home remedy on Google, and I don’t know what else to do.”

Doctor #2: “It could be a sign of something serious, but it could be nothing. Let’s have a look at your test results… Are you taking iron?”

Me: “No, why?”

Doctor #2: “Didn’t the other doctor say anything about your iron levels?!”

Me: “He said my blood was normal.”

Doctor #2: “It’s most certainly not normal! You have extremely low iron levels, in both sets of results. There’s a proven link between low iron and mouth sores. You just need to take an iron supplement. And I’ll give you a prescription for the cold sores, so they’ll clear up in a week or less. Your white blood cell count is still up, so I think you may need antibiotics, too.”

(Since I’ve been taking iron, I hardly have cold sores at all. And my infection cleared up, but the doctor said if it hadn’t, it could have developed into sepsis, which can be fatal. Now, whenever I make a doctor’s appointment I specifically say, “Any doctor other than [Doctor #1],” and from what the receptionist has since told me, lots of patients do the same.)

(I live in downtown, about two blocks away from our county fairgrounds. It’s Saturday night during a fair, and I have my windows open to let in the cooler air. I’m watching a Harry Potter movie. With my window open, you can see the television from the street. There’s a knock on my door. I open it to see a boy of about ten standing there.)

Me: “Um… Hello.”

Boy: “I want to watch the movie! Mom says to stay here while she goes out.”

Me: “Sorry, kid. I don’t know you. You need to go back to your mom.”

Boy: *pouts but leaves*

(Ten minutes later, there’s a pounding on my door.)

Mom: “I TOLD HIM HE COULD WATCH YOUR MOVIE! Just let him hang out here while I visit the bars! It’ll only be a couple hours.”

Me: “Lady, I don’t know you people, and you don’t know me. How do you know I’m not a child sex offender? If you want a free babysitter, call a friend or family member.”

Mom: “NO! It’s tourist season, and you all have to make us feel at home! Now, do your part and let him in!”

Me: “Yeah… No. Get out of here before I take your picture and send it to the cops. We’re a small town. They love hearing about neglected kids.”

(She scowled at me but finally left. The boy was still whining about wanting to watch my movie. There a lot of sickos out there, people! Keep an eye on your kids during big events.)

(We have just moved to a new neighbourhood. From the first day, one neighbour starts to bother me a lot. When we have just moved in, she rings our doorbell and “invites herself in.” I don’t want to be rude from the start, so I offer her some tea and chocolate.)

Neighbour: “Oh, this tea is so tasty! Which brand is it?”

(I show her the box because it isn’t a common brand here.)

Neighbour: “Ooh, let me take some bags to my family and let them taste the tea!”

(I am a little shocked by her attitude, but I get a small ziplock bag so I can put some tea bags in it for her. Instead, she grabs the ziplock, puts some bags inside for me, and shoves the tea box in her bag.)

Neighbour: “Oh, and if you have some of this chocolate left, I think my son would like it!”

Me: *already pretty annoyed* “Sorry, those were the last pieces. I’m very sorry, but I have many things to do.”

(While walking outside, the neighbour takes a glance into our kitchen and sees another package of the chocolate on the table.)

Neighbour: “Isn’t that the same chocolate?!”

Me: “Well, it is the same brand of chocolate, but this one is with alcohol.”

Neighbour: “Oh, I think it would be nice, too.”

Me: “Yes, but as I said, it is with alcohol.”

Neighbour: “Oh, my son is already 22. He doesn’t mind!”

(She runs into the kitchen, grabs the chocolate, and looks around in the kitchen.)

Neighbour: “Oh, you have many fridge magnets! Can you give me some?!”

Me: “No, sorry. My friends gifted me those!”

Neighbour: “They can gift you some again!”

Me: “No! They are not very cheap, and I will not ask them to send me some again. It would be VERY RUDE.”

(Disappointed, she went home. From that day, I tried to avoid her, but sadly, she became some kind of a stalker. She came over almost every day, calling on the apartment phone — every apartment has a line which can be called for free by everyone in the apartment complex but sadly, you can’t see who calls. It got to the point where I never picked up the phone or opened the door. Even when I was home, I hardly went outside. One day, it suddenly stopped. I wondered why but was also very relieved. A few months later, our new neighbour came over to introduce herself and told me straight away that the stalker neighbour had been bad-mouthing me, saying that I am a very bad and rude person, that I never clean anything, etc., all because I didn’t say hello to her when I was taking a walk in the park. But I am happy; at least she stopped disturbing me!)

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Coworker: “When’s Good Friday in Canada?”

Me: “April 14.”

Coworker: “No, but in Canada.”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: “They have a different Thanksgiving than us, so they probably have a different Good Friday.”

Me: “Are you high?”

Coworker: “Why, is it obvious?”

(Today is the day customers come in to pick up rental Easter Bunny costumes. I’m helping a man in his mid-60s, from a church, pick up his bunny. A coworker is helping another customer pick up her bunny.)

Man: *to fellow customer* “You look like you should be picking up the Playboy version of that costume.”

(Stunned silence from the three women at the counter: the customer, my coworker, and me.)