(This event happens more than halfway through my junior year in high school. It’s important to note that prior to this, I have only missed about four or five days of school during my ENTIRE high school career, half of which were from when my grandmother died unexpectedly last year. This one particular morning, I wake up feeling like complete and utter crap. I also just so happen to have two major presentations today after lunch and my parents know about both of them. They basically have to fight to get me out of bed, accusing me of either lying or exaggerating to get out of my presentations. I manage to power through the first half of the day before breaking down at lunch and having my counselor essentially force my mother to come and get me. Naturally, she isn’t happy about it as she still thinks I’m purposefully trying to avoid my presentations.)

Mom: *in a very condescending tone* “I hope you’re prepared to go to the doctor. I’m bringing you back right after, too.”

(It’s very clear she’s trying to call my “bluff” and scare me into backing down, but I just quietly shrug. And just as she said, she brings me to a walk-in clinic near my school. After going through the standard procedure, the nurse seeing me takes a snot sample for a flu test.)

Mom: “I’m thinking it’s just a little cold at most.”

Nurse: “If that’s the case, we’ll probably just do a steroid shot, but let’s see the test results first.”

(She leaves and returns a few minutes later. To my mother’s surprise, the nurse is now wearing a procedure mask.)

Nurse: “So, he has the flu. We’re lucky y’all caught it within the first two days so we can write him a prescription for some Tamiflu that y’all can pick up at your preferred pharmacy. We’ll also give you a doctor’s note that says he can’t go to school until at least next Monday. Until then, make sure he gets plenty of rest and that he doesn’t have a fever for at least 48 hours prior to Monday.”

(My mother was horrified and ended up asking to have herself tested, too; she was negative. Although I feel bad for all my friends and classmates who sat by me that morning, I can’t help but gleefully remember my mom’s face when she realized that I wasn’t faking s***.)

(I’m a nursing assistant in training. On my second day of practice at a nursing home, I am asked to feed an elderly woman. Not all of the residents are able to move their arms or grip properly, or are even there mentally to realize food is in front of them, and I’ve already spoon-fed a few people. At first, this one seems no different.)

Me: “Okay, Mrs. [Resident]. I’m [My Name] and I’ll be helping you with your breakfast today. What would you like to start with?”

Resident: *vague noise*

Me: “Um… all right, then. Let’s just start with the eggs.”

(I feed her for some time, occasionally holding a cup to her lips, as well. At no point does she nod, shake her head, lift her hands, or give any sort of noise that sounds remotely like a word. When I’m more than half done, a nurse comes in with her medicine, part of which is liquified and in a cup. The resident takes the cup from the nurse and drinks on her own, then grabs her spoon to scrape the last of the medicine from the cup. Once this is done, she starts feeding herself.)

Me: “…”

Nurse: “You should still help her.”

Me: “R-really? Um…”

(I look around for anything she might still need, and see that I forgot to add butter to her meal earlier.)

Me: “Oh! Mrs. [Resident], would you like me to add some butter to your toast?”

Resident: *mumbles*

Me: *leaning over* “What was that?”

Resident: *at the top of her lungs* “YES!”

(As part of an awareness campaign, there are a few stands at a major public transit hub where people can get a quick, free medical check and advice on whether they are at risk for heart disease and so on. We are also handing out bottled water, hula hoops, and balls for kids to play with and take home while the adults are filling out questions, being measured, or talking with the nurses. All of us are wearing dark blue T-shirts with the company logo on them. Entirely unrelated, there are people handing out flyers about the swine flu vaccine. These people are wearing yellow T-shirts with another company’s logo on them. I am on my way to a break when an elderly man comes up to me, holding the pamphlet the other company is handing out.)

Elderly Man: “Okay, just give me the shot.”

Me: “I’m afraid we don’t give shots here. This is a medical check-up to see if you’re at risk for heart disease, diabetes, and so on.”

Elderly Man: “But you’re handing out these flyers, telling me I need to get a shot.”

Me: “Sir, those people are from a different company and, as you’ll read in the pamphlet, you have to make an appointment with your doctor and he’ll give you the vaccine.”

Elderly Man: “But you’re right here.”

Me: “Yes, but, again, we don’t have any shots here.”

Elderly Man: “But I need to get a shot!” *waving the flyer in my face*

Me: “I understand, sir, but you really need to call your doctor and make an appointment for that. We simply can’t help you here.”

Elderly Man: “You just want me to die!”

(I work at the front desk in a hotel. One fine morning, just before dawn, we get a call from one of the rooms plaintively asking if we could please call an ambulance. The voice on the phone is rather weak, but is very apologetic, and keeps saying she’s sorry to be such a bother, etc. I send my coworker down the hall to see if he can help her any while I make the call. The ambulance arrives quickly and the woman is bundled off, with my coworker coming back to the front desk.)

Me: “How bad is she? She going to be okay?”

Coworker: “Yeah, but you wouldn’t believe the mess in the bathroom. Whatever hit her, it was bad.”

Me: “How bad is it?”

Coworker: “Trust me when I say you wouldn’t believe me. It’s really bad in there.”

(Gentle readers, I have insufficient words to describe the mess in that bathroom. Apparently, whatever illness had the guest in its grip had her expelling from both ends, with great force. Further, she had been gripped with dizziness and vertigo, so there wasn’t any aiming for a proper target. There is vomit and fecal matter over everything — and I do mean everything — in that bathroom. A bit later, the head housekeeper comes in, and I get to practice my Spanish:)

Me: “Ah, [Housekeeper]? Por favor… 104 no es bueno.” *Please, 104 is not good*.

Housekeeper: “¿No?”

Me: “No. Es baño.” *No. It’s a toilet.*

Housekeeper: “¿Baño?”

Me: *handing her the key* “Si… Lo siento mucho.” *Yes, I am very sorry.*

(She took the key with a skeptical look; as a housekeeper, she’s seen it all. A moment later, I heard a loud “¡Ay-yi-yi!” from down the hall.)

(I’m home to celebrate my birthday and my mother asks me what I want for dinner. I ask her to make her homemade lasagna. I’m lactose intolerant and have been since I was very young. After dinner, I start feeling nauseous and my stomach is acting up.) 

Me: “Mom, did you use lactose-free sour cream today?”

Mom: “No, of course not. I made it with proper sour cream.”

Me: “And you didn’t think to warn me about it before dinner?”

Mom: “No, I assumed you knew that I would use that.”

Me: “Why wouldn’t I assume you would serve me something I’m actually able to eat on my birthday?”

Mom: *shrugs and walks away*

(Had she just warned me before, I could have taken medicine before eating and everything would have been fine. Instead, I spent my birthday in pain and running to the toilet. Thanks, Mom.)