I’m the dumb one in this story. My baby had some breathing trouble and was hospitalized for a month and a half prior to surgery. One of the times I was staying overnight, a respiratory therapist I hadn’t met before came in to check the settings on the oxygen. I saw she had a cursive font tattoo on her arm. Confused, I asked,

“Does your tattoo say, ‘Thy will be donut’?” 

The therapist showed me her arm and said, “No, it says, ‘Thy will be done’.” What I had taken as “donut” was the word “done” with a cross after it.

So my mom answeres medical questions over the phone and she gets a few stupid ones but this stuck out the most.

Guy : hey what do I do if I throw up?
Mom: flush it.
Guy: But what if I throw up in the toilet?
Mom: like I said sir you flush it.
Guy: I threw up in some paper towel.
Mom: Then throw it in the toilet and flush it, drink some tea and lay down you’ll be fine
Guy: But I’m allergic to the toilet.
Mom:…….well then…uh…throw up in the trash
Guy: Are you crazy!?!?! Then my house will smell like throw up all day!

(What started as a quick trip to the ER ends up being a week-long hospital stay. I called work early in the week to let them know. During my visit, I end up needing surgery. I’m frustrated from everything, on top of stressed, tired, and in pain. When I get back to my room, a HUGE vase of gorgeous flowers is sitting on my table.)

Nurse: “Oh, looks like someone’s got an admirer!”

(I open the card next to it. It was covered with messages from my coworkers, including my district manager! I call my store to thank them.)

Me: “Hey, I just got the card and flowers—”

Manager: “Oh, good! We’ve missed your smiling face here and wanted to give you something just as bright to help you there!”

(It definitely did help!)

I am in the hospital after having emergency surgery on a dislocated ankle and a broken leg. It is the middle of the night and my post-surgery pain medicine has worn off. I locate the nurse call button and press it, but nothing happens. I do this multiple times, to no avail.

I grab my cell phone and use the flashlight to light up the room telephone so I can read the number. I call the number and let the phone ring. It is loud and doesn’t stop, because I don’t answer it. After about five minutes, a nurse comes to investigate why the phone is ringing, and I am able to tell her I’m in extreme pain. 

She brings me pain medicine and tells me that they’ve had issues with the button in the past. It wasn’t unplugged or anything; it just flat out didn’t work! Why they’d still use it completely mystifies me!

(I’m on vacation and I go to the hospital because I am sick. I’m female and my hair is only one centimeter long. A patient’s sister comes to me.)

Patient’s Sister: “Hey, what kind of cancer did you have? My sister is your age and has breast cancer. The doctor has two chemotherapy treatments and we don’t know which is better. Are you familiar with [treatments]?”

Me: “Um, no. It’s better you discuss it with the doctor. I know nothing about breast cancer.”

Patient’s Sister: “Oh, okay, I guess you had a different cancer, then. Good luck with your recovery.”

Me: “No, I never had any cancer. I’m here because I have a cold.”

Patient’s Sister: “But you’re nearly bald.”

Me: “So you just assumed I had chemotherapy?”

Patient’s Sister: “Oh, I’m so sorry. Then that means you’re a lesbian.”

Me: *sigh* “Okay, yes.”

Patient’s Sister: “I understand. Sorry for the assumption, then.”

(No, I’m not a lesbian, either, but I didn’t want to argue.)