My parents and I have been discussing the recent health crisis and its impact on cruise ships. I went on a cruise in December.

Me: “If what they are saying is true, it only took one person to infect hundreds on the Ruby Princess.”

Mum: “My friends didn’t get sick; they were lucky.”

Me: “They were on the Ruby?”

Mum: “No, they went on a cruise just after you went; the flu was really bad on their cruise.”

Me: “Yeah, that’s why I had a flu shot.”

Mum: “They had the flu before they left but they were all right because they had antibiotics. They only had a cough for the first day, but then they heard their neighbours coughing a couple of days later.”

Me: “So, they gave their neighbours the flu?”

Mum: “No, they were all right. They had antibiotics.”

Me: “Antibiotics don’t work that way. They got on that ship while they were infectious with the flu.”

Mum: “They were on antibiotics. They were really lucky because, out of twenty family members who they travelled with, they were the only ones who didn’t get sick.”

Me: “That’s because they infected everyone else.”

Mum: “No, the flu was running through the ship; lots of people got it. They were on antibiotics.”

Me: “They don’t work that way; they—”

Dad: *Cutting me off* “Save your breath, [My Name]. You know your mother and her idiot friends are never wrong. After I got sick on a cruise, I won’t go on any more.”

Mum: “You had food poisoning because you ate something in New Zealand.”

Dad: “Whatever you say. That food poisoning ran riot through people who didn’t even get off in New Zealand.”

I am an aide for the elderly. I’ve been sick for a few days and since all of my clients are high-risk — as am I because of asthma — I decide to call in sick for a week, just to make sure it isn’t anything serious.

One of my clients has managed to get my personal number and gives me a call.

Client: “[My Name]? Hello!”

Me: “Hello, Miss [Client], how are you?”

Client: “I’m fine. Listen, I was just talking to my son and he is worried about all this nonsense. He wants to cancel your appointments for the month.”

Me: “Oh, that’s actually a great idea! You’re very high-risk because you’re in your nineties and on oxygen. I’m glad you listened to him. Plus, I’m sick, too, so I was really worried about infecting you if this is more serious. “

Client: “You know I don’t care. If I get this disease, then it’s a good day.”

I’m used to her talking like this.

Me: “No, no, no, you don’t want to die from this; it’s pretty bad. You want to go peacefully in bed, remember?”

Client: “Right, right. So, I won’t see you during this month. But you can stop by anytime if you’re in the neighborhood!”

I’m trying not to laugh.

Me: “Miss [Client], I can’t. The whole purpose is to keep you safe.”

She is one of my favorite clients. She’s one of those tough cookies but has a good heart. I’m sure she’s going to be super lonely this month but I told her to call me anytime she wanted to! Also, for those curious, I am feeling a little better but still coughing and having trouble breathing. Yay, asthma.

The hospital where I’m going to have my baby is currently restricting the number of people who can enter due to a global outbreak of illness. This means my partner can’t be with me for the delivery. This has led to a couple of interesting conversations.

The main one is when my labour starts at home. My partner is talking to the 999 operator on speakerphone to get an ambulance. Halfway through, this happens.

Partner: “Will they get here soon? I think the baby’s coming.”

Operator: “Ma’am, we have to ask that you and your baby stay at home. We can only take the patient. We’re trying to limit the number of people in hospital to reduce the infection rate.”

Partner: *Pauses* “I think you misheard me. I mean the baby currently exiting my wife’s uterus.”

I started laughing so hard I was distracted from contractions for a few minutes.

I’m a fairly new office administrator for a pest control company and am still in-training. I work with two other admins who have been with the company for more than ten years, as well as the manager who has been around for more than twenty years. [Admin #1] has several adult children but is otherwise happy and healthy, [Admin #2] has a chronic health condition, and [Manager]’s wife has terminal cancer. This concludes my stage-setting for one of the worst phone calls of my life.

I’m happily snoozing away when I’m awoken by my phone. It’s [Admin #1]. I answer with the expected amount of attentive grogginess and am told something to the effect of:

“Sorry to wake you. [Manager]’s wife just died, [Admin #2] is in the hospital, and my son was just in a car accident. You need to come in… fifteen minutes ago.”

And that’s the first and worst time I solo’d running an office forty employees strong: through a trial-by-fire while my coworkers handled their life-altering events where they were most needed. No one had a good time that day, but I think I got off the easiest.

When I started college, I lived on campus and had a meal plan. I ate a lot of pizza and whatever else you’d expect college kids to eat. I did not drink alcohol and I considered myself pretty healthy. 

One day, I started having cramps in my abdomen. It got worse over a few days and I was worried that maybe my appendix was getting ready to burst or that I was having some other issue like that. I went to the local medical clinic to get checked out and make sure I wasn’t dying. 

The doctor had me get up on the exam table so she could press around on my abdomen and see what to do next. I was so worried I’d need surgery and have to stay in the hospital with my family being more than four hours away.

As the doctor was pressing around, trying to find the offending area, she told me that I was not dying. I was just constipated and needed to eat some more vegetables; she made a few suggestions.

When I got done, I never told anyone what was actually wrong, just that the doctor said I wasn’t dying.