One Door Closes… And That’s It

, , , | Working | August 26, 2017

(I work as a housekeeper at a hospital. On one floor, our janitor closet is located in an area of high traffic, so various other workers tend to congregate in front of the door. I need to pop into the closet for a box of gloves, but there’s several techs leaning against the door chatting.)

Me: “Excuse me.”

Tech: “Oh, sorry!”

(She steps aside and I dash into the closet. It’s a small room, but the door closes fast so it closes behind me before I can grab the gloves and whirl around to leave. Still, this takes just a few seconds. Imagine my shock when I go to carefully open the door (I tend not to open that door with force due to the high traffic of the area), and get resistance. The door snaps back shut, so I try again. And once again, something — and I fear I know what — is blocking my exit. Just when I’m about to contemplate shouting or knocking from the inside to be let out, the door opens and I see the surprised face of the same tech that just let me in a second ago. She’d been leaning against the door again, blocking my escape.)

Tech: “Oh!” *opens the door wider to let me out* “I wondered what was wrong with this door!”

Me: “…”

(We housekeepers are used to being ignored and unappreciated, but that was pretty extreme.)

Their Wishes Are Horses

, , , , | Related | August 17, 2017

(I have a very nasty horse. There hasn’t been a year I’ve owned him that he hasn’t had me in the hospital for some severe accident. The two most recent both needed surgery after nearly ripping my arm off my body, and breaking my arm so badly it turned two small wrist bones almost to dust. Most of my family wants me to sell him but my cousins love him. I’ve gone to visit them with my arm in a cast with the stabilizing rods sticking out of it.)

Female Cousin: “You know I really don’t want you to sell him, but it might be better for you if you did.”

Me: “Well, you and [Male Cousin] are the only ones who aren’t threatening to sell him behind my back. I had to move barns and not tell anyone so they wouldn’t do it while I was here.”

Male Cousin: “Meh, it’s your life, and if he ends it we’re your beneficiaries.”

Me: “And here I thought you just didn’t want me to give up my last semblance of happiness in the world.”

Female Cousin: “Nah, we couldn’t care less about the horse. We just want the money.”

Just Another Manic Tuesday

, , , | Working | August 11, 2017

(At the time I am 38 weeks pregnant and have just arrived a half-hour late to my OB appointment because I had gotten the appointment time screwed up. Luckily, they are able to squeeze me in. The following exchange takes place with my OB’s nurse. Needless to say we were both having off days!)

Nurse: “And how are we feeling today?”

Me: “Very tired. I’m not sure if I’m coming or going today.”

Nurse: “Oh, I know the feeling! Instead of testing your urine for glucose, I ran a pregnancy test. The good news is that you’re pregnant!”

(We both have a good laugh at this.)

Me: “Well, that’s good to know. Otherwise I would think there was something seriously wrong with me. I guess we both have a case of the Mondays today.”

(The nurse gives me a funny look.)

Nurse: “Actually, it’s Tuesday…”

(We both started cracking up again. Luckily the rest of my day went much smoother. I hope the same was true for the nurse!)

An Alarming Lack Of Alarm, Part 2

, , , , , | Right | August 10, 2017

(I take a telephone call from a female caller.)

Caller: “Hello. My partner’s having a pacemaker fitted and for personal reasons, I’d like to know where he is on the list.”

Me: “I don’t know that. Have you tried speaking to the consultant’s secretary?”

Caller: “I’m not ringing her. Can’t you tell me?”

Me: “But she would be the best person to help you.”

Caller: “I don’t know if she’s Australian or Canadian, but she’s never there. She’s either on holiday or off sick.”

Me: “She would still be the best person to ask.”

Caller: “But can’t you tell me?”

Me: “I don’t know that information. Would they even know the surgery lists at this point?”

Caller: “Yes, they would.”

(The fire alarm starts to go off.)

Me: “Can I take your number and try to find out and give you a ring back.”

Caller: “What’s that noise? It’s hurting my ears.”

Me: “That’s the fire alarm. We may have to evacuate the building.”

Caller: “You don’t have to go. It’s probably just a practice.”

Me: “We’ve not been told it’s a practice. If I can take your phone number, I can try and find out and call you back.”

Caller: “No, don’t call me back. I want to know when he’s having his pacemaker fitted.”

Me: “Sorry, madam, we are actually evacuating the building.”

Caller: “But you can’t. I want to know when his pacemaker’s going to be fitted.”

(The best bit? I found out from a colleague that the order of patients is decided on the day!)

A Bad Case Of The Churls

, , , | Related | August 10, 2017

(My mom is admitted to the hospital for what turns out to be pneumonia with two collapsed lungs, among other complications. She’s required to wear an oxygen mask, but because she’s delirious, she keeps trying to take it off. Meanwhile, I’m constantly forcing her to keep it on. She’s quite irritable, and I’m very tired from babysitting her. One of our interactions went something like this:)

Mom: “Where are my clothes?”

Me: “You’re in the hospital, Mom. You don’t need your clothes.”

Mom: “Don’t you have any sense of decency?!”

Me: “None of the patients have decency in the hospital. Everyone wears gowns.”

Mom: *removing her mask* “I’m pissed off at you right now.”

Me: *snatching it back up and holding it to her face* “You have to keep that on.”

Mom: “[My Name], if you say that one more time…”

Me: “I have to; you keep taking it off!”

Mom: *glaring at me hard* “You’re churlish!”

(I’m very amused by her “churlish” comment and relay it to my family later. Afterwards, my mom is sedated for a few weeks, and my family takes shifts at the hospital to watch her. When she regains consciousness, she says she loves me; it’s a very touching moment. I return home and tell my family how she’s doing.)

Me: “And she said she loves me.”

Brother: “No, she doesn’t, you churl.”

(When my mom’s better, we tell her about the “churlish” comment as well.)

Mom: “I don’t even know what that word means!”

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