If Only You Could Listen To Yourself

| Chesterfield, England, UK | Working | July 14, 2017

(I wear hearing aids and every so often have to visit audiologists and nurses to have my hearing retested, or new fittings done, or on the odd occasion to have my ears washed out. No matter who I see, the same thing always happens.)

Me: “Hi, I’m here to get my hearing checked. Noises and sounds seem to be quieter than usual recently.”

Audiologist: “Okay, please take a seat and remove your aids and pop them on this tissue on the desk whilst I have a look.”

(I do this and he/she examines my ears with their otoscope, then goes back round the desk and sits down whilst explaining for several minutes what they think is wrong with my hearing, what to do about it, and how long it might take. By now I always end up pointing out that I don’t have my aids in and I can’t hear a word they’re saying. I might be able to lip read, but that doesn’t replace what the aids do for me; I’m always amazed that people in this profession think they can be heard when the patient doesn’t have their hearing aids in.)

Had A Hand In Your Pain

, , , , | Working | June 30, 2017

This happened when I was 13. I was a country girl, to explain the next part. I am at a friend’s place for the day and she is going out in the tractor. I went along, and somehow manage to crush my hand quite badly between mechanical parts. Things get a bit fuzzy at that point, so I only remember that it hurt like hell and her mum drove me home asap. My dad takes one look at me, curses her out for not taking me to the ER, and drives me there himself. When we get there we we’re told to sit and wait.

We wait for several hours. I pass out a few times and have worked myself into hysteria. Dad is trying to get the staff to get me in quicker, at least so I can get some painkillers. A sweet guy in the waiting room with a sprained foot is called before us, and insists that the little girl (aka me) get treatment first.

I am admitted and a doctor comes by to check out my swollen and discoloured hand. What happened next still gives me nightmares.

He prods at it, and cheerfully tells me and my dad that they’ll probably have to amputate it.

Now, I was already hysterical. Being told that I am going to lose my hand did NOT help things. Things get fuzzy here, but dad later told me I had a panic attack and that a nurse had to administer a mild sedative, and that they finally gave me some heavy duty painkillers.

I remember being very impressed with the shiny elevator on the way up to x-ray and much less impressed with the technician when they had to straighten out my fingers for the x-rays.

And guess what the x-rays showed? No breaks. A slight hairline fracture to one finger, but nothing that needed a cast. Definitely not amputation material. Some nerve damage, but all in all it wasn’t that bad. Dad cried, and I cried. The nurses were shocked when they heard why and what the doctor had told a terrified teenager in pain. A supervisor was called, and the doctor came slinking back to apologize for his mistake, and to this day I’m sort of shocked my dad refrained from hitting him.

Getting Hysterectical

, , , , | General | June 25, 2017

(I got a hysterectomy because I hate my period and never want to have children. When I wake up from the anaesthetic, there’s a nurse standing over my bed.)

Nurse: “Don’t you ever want kids?”

(That was literally the first thing she said. I thought of so many responses later, but at the time I was too stunned and groggy to say anything. Also: period-free life is awesome. 10/10 highly recommend.)

That’s One Fabuloso Cup Of Coffee

, , , , , | Friendly | June 18, 2017

(I volunteer at the hospital in the department that my mom works in. Her job involves her mostly talking on the phone and typing on the computer. Her coworker’s desk is not too far from my mom’s and I’m putting together a chart when I overhear this. Note that this is not violating any HIPAA policies, since the woman on the phone is not a patient at that hospital, and it’s more of a personal phone call since she’s best friends with the woman’s daughter.)

Coworker: “Hey, how’s [Best Friend]? *the woman says something on the phone* “Wait, what?” *the woman then repeats herself* “You made coffee out of bleach and Fabuloso?!” *at this point, I’m all ears* “I’m going to put you on hold; I’m calling poison control.”

(She then puts her on hold and starts to call poison control. At this point, my mom is even curious.)

Mom: “Who was that?”

Coworker: “That’s [Best Friend]’s mom. Apparently she found that bucket of bleach and Fabuloso and thought it was water and decided to make coffee with it.”

Mom: “But didn’t you write ‘Do not drink’ on it? And why is she calling you and not [Best Friend]?

Coworker: “I did, but she didn’t read it and she didn’t want [Best Friend] to find out.”

(Turned out, my mom was helping her coworker and the best friend paint her mother’s house and they needed to clean the walls. Even though you’re not supposed to, they mixed bleach and Fabuloso which made it easier to clean the walls with. They placed it under the sink so they could use it again that weekend coming up and apparently the mom thought it was water. After talking to poison control, it took them a while to tell them that it was the mother who made the coffee herself and not them, and that said mother was not suicidal. Luckily it wasn’t fatal and all she had was just a headache, but she did say that was the best coffee she ever had. Yes, my mom’s coworker told her friend what happened after she called poison control and went to go check on her mother. To this day, my mom always jokes that the Fabuloso made the coffee delicioso.)

Unfiltered Story #89486

, | Unfiltered | June 10, 2017

I was visiting my brother in a rehabilitation hospital after he had some spinal surgery, he was showing me around the hospital grounds.

Brother “Look over here, there’s even a garden area for the patients. All the beds are raised and there’s wide paths for the wheelchairs to get in.”

*He leads the way in his wheelchair. I notice that some of the beds are sign posted as private gardens and not to pick from them. while some beds have plants such as herbs that have signs that the plants are for everyone to share. I pick a couple of mint sprigs from one of these plants. There are some gardens that have more aggressive do not pick signs.

Me “Ooh I’m going to make some fresh mint tea when I get home”.

*We notice a man gardening in one of the beds and nearby his nurse is watching over him. My brother goes up to talk to the nurse.

Nurse “Did you want to have a garden?”

Brother “No I’m not going to be here too long but this is a great idea. I noticed some of the signs around, are they because of the home units nearby?”

Nurse “Oh yeah, sometimes we come out and find entire gardens have been cleared of all of the vegetables, they take every thing”.

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