I used to work as a nurse in a hospital in a university (thus public/governmental) clinic in Germany. My boss was awesome; she really stood up for us and wasn’t shy to address problems or “fight” for our cause.

The doctors were in a completely different situation. They were all on a rotation schedule, swapping wards every two or three months, and they were chronically abused by the system in regard to employment, making them hesitant to speak up. They didn’t dare to disagree with the seniors.

We had a very entitled patient who started to sexually abuse (verbally and physically) the female staff — doctors and nurses alike. He was always making sleazy comments and grabbing people inappropriately. We were all arguing to have him discharged because of this, but the doctors didn’t do it because the seniors didn’t want to.

This patient came from another country. There is (or was) a deal between his country and Germany that theirs would cover all costs for patients treated in Germany. He was extra flown in because of this deal; I guess the hospital made more money from him than other patients.

On the weekly rounds with the senior, my boss addressed the problem and demanded that the patient be kicked out of the hospital. The senior physician actually said this:

Senior Physician: “For all the money he brings this hospital, you should just let him grab you all a bit.”

My boss answered, without missing a beat:

Boss: “Great! In that case, you can send your wife or daughter in to keep him company.”

He shut up after that. He never understood why all the nurses hated him, and he never managed to redeem himself in our eyes.

The patient was kicked out later that day after he grabbed a sixteen-year-old intern’s butt and my boss called the police.

I’m a newly qualified nurse in a stroke ward. I’m doing a medication round and find a new listing on a patient Kardex (list of meds, when to give them, etc.) that I cannot read. It looks like someone has tried to draw a wave. I go hunt down a doctor to get it interpreted.

Doctor: “How am I supposed to know? It’s just a squiggle! You nurses should be able to read it! Or find the moron who wrote it and ask them!”

Me: “You wrote it. That’s your signature.”

The doctor is silent for a moment.

Doctor: “…what patient was it again?”

I am pregnant with my first child, and it is time to go have my first pregnancy appointment with my OB/GYN. I have been seeing her for a while and generally am very happy with her. She’s a nice older lady who never makes me feel rushed, but a downside to this is that she’s often running behind because she doesn’t rush the other patients, either.

Today, though, she is especially behind, and my husband and I are sitting in the waiting room two hours after the time when my appointment was supposed to start. I was already anxious because I have some health conditions that make me more likely to have complications, so I am eager to be checked out and make sure the pregnancy is healthy.

Eventually, we are finally shown to the exam room, which is not the biggest. There, we wait for another thirty minutes before the doctor arrives. At this point I am, I believe justifiably, on edge.

We have a brief discussion about the pregnancy and my health, and it’s determined that she needs to examine me. I go to get all set up in the stirrups, and at this point, I’m still covered.

Doctor: “Okay, [Husband], can you please stand over there behind [My Name]?” 

My husband does so.

Doctor: “Actually, could you move a little farther to your right?” 

My husband then squeezes even farther behind me and the exam table. But the doctor just keeps directing him this way around this cramped little exam room until he’s finally in a spot she’s happy with. She then turns around and starts adjusting things on the counter behind her.

I get confused when I see her start adjusting frames on the wall, and eventually, I figure it out. She’s rearranging anything that could be reflective so that my husband won’t see me once she lifts up the sheet that’s covering my nether regions.

Now it’s kind of funny, but at the time, two and a half hours after my appointment time, while I am incredibly anxious, it is irritating. I eventually get tired of her fiddling and exclaim:

Me: “Enough! He’s seen me naked before! H***, his involvement with my vagina is what made the need for this appointment in the first place!”

Doctor: *Taken aback* “Well, I was just looking out for your privacy.”

Me: “Look. Everyone in this room has seen my vagina multiple times. Can we just get on with the exam already?”

Doctor: “Yes, yes, of course. Apologies. I didn’t know you two were so… comfortable with each other.”

I still don’t know what she meant by that. Are there really couples at pregnancy appointments with an OB/GYN that would start pearl-clutching about their partner seeing them exposed?

Thankfully, the exam went well, and she was a great doctor through the rest of the pregnancy, though she did always act like she thought my husband was a bit odd.

CONTENT WARNING: Childhood Trauma

I grew up in a pretty unsafe household. I had no peace at school, either, because one of my parents worked at said school and could have any teacher’s job if they wanted to, so while some teachers tried to help me, they could only do so much. This is the story of the first time I ever felt truly safe. The dialogue may not be completely accurate because this happened about ten years ago, but I’ve preserved the meaning of the words, at least.

We went to a rollercoaster theme park for our senior trip before graduation. The park had a dedicated night for this, and all kinds of high schools from near and far had come to this park for this one epic night.

Thankfully, neither of my parents chaperoned, but a few of their minions unfortunately did. One of those chaperones forced me to eat more than I felt comfortable with, and I ended up throwing up in a park trash can. To cover her butt, [Chaperone] scolded ME for “not telling her I’d eaten so much.” None of the other chaperones said anything, even though they were witnesses and knew that this was a total lie.

So, to continue the “of course, I’m very concerned” act, [Chaperone] decided to force the group I was with to go with her while she dragged me to the first aid place at the park. She got us there and insisted I be seen. Little did I know that her stunt was going to end so very well for me!

The on-site doctor (or nurse, or PA — I never did learn for sure) took one look at me and realized something was up by how frazzled and upset I looked. My group had held me upright so I could get there in the first place with the world spinning around me, which probably didn’t help.

Doctor: “Let me take a look at her. Can you sit right here please, miss?” *Motions to a gurney*

I yanked my way out of everyone’s arms, focused very hard on walking straight so I wouldn’t annoy anyone, and sat down, ready to get scolded by the doctor, as well. But… the scolding never happened. He asked a few gentle questions in a soft voice (much appreciated with how much my head hurt) about what had transpired, tried to get specifics out of me that I wasn’t going to provide because the chaperone was staring me down, and proceeded with a quick exam. He presumably knew I was fine after that, but I was anxious so my heart rate was probably up. He looked up at [Chaperone].

Doctor: “I think she needs a bit of a rest. Could you please go wait out in the waiting area?”

Chaperone: “Okay, fine.” *Huffs and leaves*

A few of my group mates, people who were actually friends, stayed behind without the chaperone noticing. They were clearly concerned, and he probably would have been content to let them stay, but eventually, the doctor helped me shoo them out, too, because I wasn’t resting. I was trying to get them to leave me alone and go enjoy the park so I didn’t impose on their night out. (I later found out that one of the girls stayed out in the waiting room anyway — WITH the chaperone. I hadn’t realized how much she cared about me before that night, and we stayed in touch after graduation.) Before the doctor shooed them out, though, he did get the whole story out of them, because I was too afraid to tell, and he convinced me to drink some water with the help of some peer pressure.

Once everyone left, I gave in to how dizzy and generally crappy I felt. I flopped down on the gurney; I’d been propped up on my elbow. There was no one in this area except the two of us and some security cameras. And this human embodiment of protection and compassion pulled up a chair and sat down right next to my gurney, watching the door.

Doctor: “It’s okay; no one’s here now. Get some rest.”

Me: “But I should get going soon; I’ve already taken up a lot of your time. I’m so sorry—”

Doctor: *Cutting me off* “No, no, no, absolutely not. You have no deadline. You leave when you feel better, not when you feel like you ‘should’ leave. There is no one here. It’s been a slow night. There is no reason to be sorry. If anything, you’re giving me something to do during a boring shift.”

Me: “If you’re sure…”

Doctor: “I’m completely sure. I don’t mind if you want to sleep all night here. I’ll be here and keep an eye on you. It’s safe here.”

We actually had the above conversation a few times after this, but it was the same conversation and this is long enough already. I finally closed my eyes and relaxed. But after a few minutes, I heard movement. Someone was coming in! I popped into an upright seated position out of pure instinct.

The intruder was [Chaperone], this time with an irritated, impatient expression. But there was… a white coat partially obscuring the view? I’d never had anyone put themselves between me and someone else to protect me until that point in my life, so it took me a moment to realize that he’d sprung up as fast as I had and put himself between me and this power-tripping chaperone. He had been watching the door so I didn’t have to!

Doctor: *Practically roaring* “GET OUT! Go wait in the waiting room! She needs to rest!”

The chaperone was not expecting this, and she backed out of the room quickly, the doctor staring her down the whole time. Once the door had closed and she’d taken a few audible steps away, he turned to me as he sat down again.

Doctor: “I’m sorry you had to see that, but you’re safe here. Do you think you can lie down and try to relax a bit?”

I just sort of nodded and flopped back down, completely unable to process what I’d just seen. I closed my eyes but couldn’t sleep. Strangely, however, I was more relaxed than I’d ever been before. If I started to tense up, all I had to do was pop an eye open and see the doctor watching the door to feel safe enough to relax and close my eyes again. I’d never had anyone look out for me like that, and had I felt well enough, I probably would have been anxious about it, but I was so worn out after a little while that I was just grateful, contentedly basking in the joy of being permitted such an unprecedented respite.

About an hour after I was first dragged in, I felt well enough to get nervous about taking up too much time (in spite of the fact that literally no one else came for first aid the whole time I was there) and insisted that I was feeling well enough to leave. As I left, the doctor wished me well and told me to take care of myself and to not hesitate to come back if I needed it. He also stared daggers at the chaperone as we waited for my group to come get me so I could continue on with them.

About a week later, I finally got a little bit of time alone with my parents out of the house. I sobbed for about an hour. It meant so much. The time I spent with that doctor was the highlight of the whole trip.

If you’re reading this, kind park doctor, thank you for taking the time to show a scared and traumatized teenage girl that she’s worth standing up for and that not everyone who wants to help is subject to consequences for doing so. It was probably an unremarkable and boring night at work to you, but it literally changed my life and I think about this night a lot, even a decade later.

The father of one of my coworkers is a doctor and is very good at what he does. I bring up to my coworker that I had a very severe health issue when I was a kid, some twenty-five years ago. My coworker tells me that his dad is a specialist in that particular health issue and I should talk to him. I agree, and he says he’ll talk to his dad.

Because it’s been so long, obviously, I need to request the information from records. I do have a CD with the information from a previous lookup, but it’s lost. I still have a copy of the forms. It would just be easier to send the information directly to his dad, anyway, so I get the forms filled out.

I realize I don’t know the address to send the information to. My coworker is at home, so I send him a text.

Me: “Hey, I need the address to send my information to your dad. I have the CD somewhere but can’t find it, and I figured it would be easier to send the information directly to him.”

Coworker: “Okay, yeah. I’ll talk to him tonight, and I’ll see if he can’t stop by the store this weekend to chat with you in person.”

Me: “Okay, thanks. That’d be great!”

A day goes by. My coworker texts back.

Coworker: “Hey, so, I talked with my dad, and he says that you can get another copy of the CD by contacting the hospital and requesting a new one. He can’t personally request to see yours because you aren’t actually his patient.”

I pause for a moment before responding.

Me: “Yes, I know. I’m filling out the forms, and they’re done, but I just need the address to know where to send the information. I just need the address.”

Coworker: “Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll talk to him again.”

This isn’t rocket surgery, guys! Hopefully, his dad will show up this weekend, and maybe I can find the CD!