(I have gone to see my new doctor because I have pneumonia.)

Doctor: *after looking at my xrays* “Yeah, that’s pneumonia. I’m going to prescribe you amoxicillin.”

Me: “I’m allergic to the penicillin family. Isn’t that in my chart?”

Doctor: “Yeah, it is… How allergic exactly are you?”

Me: “Allergic enough that I don’t want to risk it?”

Doctor: “I’m just trying to save you money! The other one I can give you is really expensive.”

Me: “More expensive than a hospital stay because of an allergic reaction?”

Doctor: “I’m just trying to save you money. No need to get defensive!”

Me: “I just want to go home and back to bed; just give me my prescription and let me worry about the costs!”

(She grudgingly gave me my prescription, muttering the entire time about how she was just trying to save me money and how ungrateful I was. The non-penicillin medication cost me $15.)

(The store where I work is having a charity drive. It’s not a well-known charity, and since it’s summer, people aren’t as prepared to be asked for money as during the Christmas season. Also, we’re required to ask every customer for donations at checkout, so regulars get asked multiple times over the month. Still, people are generous, and we usually get offers of $1 to $3, with an occasional offer of $5, and rarely more. On the last day of the drive, a customer and her daughter, about ten years old, come to my register.)

Me: *ringing her up* “Would you like to donate a few dollars to [Charity] today?”

Customer: “I haven’t heard of that. What is it?”

Me: “It’s a children’s cancer institute near our company’s headquarters.”

Customer’s Daughter: *gasps and looks at me with wide eyes, then looks to her mom*

Me: “We run a charity for them every summer. Each of our stores is supporting a different kid at the institute, and here we’re supporting a little girl named Kate.”

Customer: “Oh, that’s so great.”

Customer’s Daughter: “Mom! Can we donate $100?”

(The customer and I both smile and laugh a little.)

Customer: “No, honey, we can’t give that much.”

Customer’s Daughter: “Well, what about $20? $30?”

Customer: “Here, you can put me for $5.”

(Still a generous amount, considering, and I thanked her and got to announce the donation over the store’s speakers. I’m not sure how that young girl got to be so sensitive about kids in need, but I’m glad she came through my register, and kudos to her for trying!)

(When I am 20, I trip over a log and twist my ankle. It never heals right, and for years I have pain every time I take a step, stood, or put any weight on my leg. When I am 25, I get medical insurance, and my doctor sends me to a specialist to look at my ankle. It’s December, and this my first meeting with the specialist. The doctor comes in and pulls out the MRI of my ankle. He looks at it and then looks over at me. Then, he looks back at the MRI, and then back at me, with a small crease forming between his eyebrows.)

Doctor: “How do you even walk?”

Me: “Painfully?”

Doctor: “Yeah, you would have been better off breaking your leg. There is a bunch of scar tissue wrapped around the tendons in your ankle, but the real problem is your ankle bone.”

Me: “What’s wrong with it?”

Doctor: “It’s pretty much no longer there.” *he shows me my MRI* “You see that spot on your ankle, the size of a quarter? That is the part of your ankle that is missing.”

Me: “Well… That seems… bad.”

Doctor: “Yeah, if you hit it hard enough, you could just shatter the entire thing.”

Me: “So, what are my options?”

Doctor: “We can either take bone from your hip and use it as a filler to fill the hole, or we can use cadaver bone. I recommend using cadaver bone so that we don’t further damage your skeleton. Unlike organs, we don’t need to really worry about rejection or shortage. Bones are good for up to five years after donation. “

Me: “Ooh, I can be part dead person?”

Doctor: “Yes, we can use cadaver bone.”

Me: “I want dead person!”

Doctor: “Cadaver bone.”

Me: “What is the difference between dead person and cadaver bone?”

(The doctor just looks at me for a minute and then starts to laugh.)

Doctor: “Nothing. Nothing is the difference.”

Me: “I’m going to be part zombie!”

(From then on, he called it dead person bone. I was scheduled to have the surgery at the end of January, but he called me the first week of January to tell me he had found me a fresh dead person to use, instead; apparently, it takes better. So, we moved up my surgery. It’s been eight years now, and I’m virtually pain-free thanks to a wonderful person and their family, who looked past a tragic time in their lives and thought to help others. I like to use my ankle to help start conversations on the importance of donation, and I have let my family know to please donate all parts of me that they can. I hope that one day I get to help someone be part zombie, too.)

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(We have [Manager #1] who is notorious for not knowing how long a task is going to take. If he claims that it will only take “a minute,” it usually takes fifteen. If he says, “fifteen minutes,” it can be up to two hours.)

Manager #2: *over walkie-talkie* “Hey, guys, we’re running behind today. Can anyone stay fifteen minutes after their shift to help finish this up?”

(Silence.)

Manager #2: “Anyone? Anyone at all?”

(Silence.)

Manager #2: “Guuuuyyys, I mean fifteen actual minutes, not fifteen [Manager #1] minutes!”

Coworker #1: “Yeah, okay. I can stay for that long.”

Coworker #2: “Me, too.”

Coworker #3: “Sure!”

(I was laughing too hard to chime in, but I did stay to help for those fifteen minutes, too.)

(I’m in California for a friend’s wedding and I’m staying overnight with my aunt.)

Aunt: “I don’t know what time you want to get up, but you should know we have some college students from [State College] staying in [Cousin]’s room upstairs. So, you might see them at breakfast.”

Me: “I’m fine with that.”

(The next day, I get up to find that the other guests have already left. A few weeks later, I’m hanging out with male friends in another state.)

Friend: “So, I toured California with the choirs from [State College] and we stayed in [Town].”

Me: “I just got back from [Town]. My aunt let me stay in her guest room after a wedding.”

Friend: “Is your aunt [Aunt]?”

Me: “Were you the college guys she warned me about in [Cousin]’s room?”

Friend: “Which makes you the niece we shouldn’t scare off!”

(And that’s is how I had a sleepover with a guy friend without ever running into him.)