IOU One IUD, Part 2

, , , , , | Healthy | January 25, 2018

(I go to a family doctor, meaning she’s qualified to treat children and adults, so she’s been seeing me since I was 12. I’m 18 at the time of the story. This conversation takes place during my annual check-up.)

Me: “Can you write me a referral to the gynecologist? I want to get an IUD.”

Doctor: “What? Why do you need an IUD? You said on the forms that you’re not sexually active.”

Me: “Well, I’m not yet, but I’m leaving for college, and I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

Doctor: “No. No, you’re too young for birth control.”

Me: “Excuse me? I’m eighteen.”

Doctor: “And you’re not married. You’re too young for birth control, and besides, if you have an IUD and you get pregnant, chances are you’d miscarry when you had it removed.”

Me: “Being married doesn’t have anything to do with it, and if I got pregnant while on birth control, it’s not like I’d want to carry the pregnancy to term, anyway. And isn’t the chance of getting pregnant with an IUD, like, less than one percent?”

Doctor: “It doesn’t matter; I won’t write you a referral. Does your mother know you’re planning this? I need to speak to your mother.”

Me: “Hang on. I am eighteen years old—”

(She walks out of the office and into the waiting room and gets my mother. My mom comes into the exam room and listens to her, while I protest.)

Mom: “Um… [Doctor], you do realize you just committed a pretty major HIPPA violation, right? She’s eighteen, and legally an adult. She’s allowed to make these choices herself.”

Doctor: “Well! I am not writing this referral for a young girl to be given an IUD!”

Me: “Fine! I’ll figure it out myself!”

(My mom helped me get an appointment with a gynecologist — which my insurance allows me to do, but the way the system is set up, for non-emergencies it’s much easier to get an appointment if your GP gives you a referral first — and we filed a complaint with the hospital against the doctor. She was an older woman, and apparently this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to push her own agenda on a patient, but it was the first time she’d disclosed medical information without someone’s consent, so she was “encouraged to retire” and no longer practices medicine.)


It’s Written In Clear White And White

, , , , | Healthy | January 25, 2018

(I’m 15 years old. I’m at my general practitioner, because I noticed I’ve been having trouble with my eyesight.)

Me: “I can see quite all right with my left eye, but when I only use my right eye, I notice a clear difference in brightness.”

Doctor: “Hmm, let’s see. Could you cover your left eye?”

(The doctor walks to a board with letters and starts pointing at them.)

Me: “B… C… F… X…”

(The doctor goes to the smaller letters, which are more difficult to read. But at some point, I’m totally unable to see where he is pointing.)

Doctor: “This one, please.”

Me: *no verbal reaction*

Doctor: “Hello? [My Name]! This one! Can you read it?”

Me: “I can’t see what letter you are pointing at.”

Doctor: “Oh, wait. Maybe I shouldn’t use a white pen on a white background for this.”

You Can Stomach Getting A New Doctor

, , , , | Healthy | January 22, 2018

(After a change in my insurance, I have to switch doctors. On my first exam, he stares long and hard at a small patch of pink skin on my stomach that my previous doctor dismissed as nothing.)

Doctor: “How long have you had that bright pink spot on your stomach?”

Me: “Three or four years.”

Doctor: “Have you ever had a dermatologist examine it?”

Me: “No, I didn’t think it was anything serious. My GP said it was probably nothing.”

Doctor: “Well, I think it’s probably a basal cell carcinoma. That’s a slow-growing cancer, but if it’s been left alone for years, we need to remove it ASAP. Let me call our dermatologist.”

(The dermatologist confirmed his suspicions, and a growth the size of an apple was cut out of my stomach later that week. It hadn’t spread anywhere, thankfully. Good thing for me I had to change doctors!)

I Got 99 Problems, But My Age Ain’t One

, , , , , , | Healthy | January 17, 2018

(My mum had a stroke two weeks ago. As she was in the hospital at the time it was caught exceptionally quickly, and her doctors believe there will only be some short-term memory loss. I don’t believe there is any, for the reason I am about to tell you. I have dropped by to visit when there are several nurses and her doctor by her bed, arguing.)

Mum: “See? There’s my son. Ask him if you don’t believe me!”

Me: “What’s going on?”

Doctor: “We believe it might be a sign of memory loss. You mother is adamant that her grandmother is still alive.”

Me: “She is. She turns 100 next week. You met her last Friday before she was discharged.”

Doctor: *stutters* “I…I see… She also believes that money has been stolen from her purse; £100 pounds to be exact. Can you confirm that she had this money in her purse while staying here?”

Me: “Yes. It was for my great-grandmother’s birthday. She literally got it out of the ATM in the hospital’s atrium what, twenty minutes before she had her stroke?”

(My mum nods.)

Me: “In fact, that’s why I came around. She called me this morning to get a card.”

(I shook the bag in my hand and the doctor blushed furiously at the realisation that everything my mum said was accurate. All the nurses then backed away, seemingly suspicious of each other. They never found the money, or figured out who stole it, but my mum demanded to be immediately moved to another hospital, and the nurses managed to pool together £100 themselves as compensation. My mum refused to take it, though, as she saw it as an admission that they collectively stole it.)

Treating Depression With Tongue Firmly In Cheek

, , , , , | Healthy | January 17, 2018

(On my most recent office visit, I get some coffee but am hustled into a room before I can mix in cream or sugar. I spot a container of tongue depressors and grab one to stir. The nurse chuckles a bit at my audacity, but it makes perfect sense to me; it’s just like any other wooden coffee stirrer. Then, I have a bright idea. A few moments later my doctor walks in:)

Me: “I think I need Zoloft for my tongue.”

Doctor: “Why is that?”

Me: “It’s been depressed.”

(I got the laugh I hoped for. Nice to have a doctor with a sense of humor.)

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