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You’ll Knock That Migraine Out Real Good

, , | Healthy | March 5, 2021

I get migraines that can take me out for days. Before the headache sets in, I lose sensation in the left side of my body, followed by nausea and vomiting, and then tunnel vision. It is impossible for me to work when it gets to this point, so I try to take care of it as soon as the first symptoms start.

I get to work early to set up and start losing sensation in my neck and shoulder on the left. I immediately take all the meds my doctor tells me to, hoping it’s not too late. I ask the front desk to cancel my first client so I can go to the urgent care next door and see if they can do anything.

I turn off a few lights in the exam room to ease the pain and try to focus on the poster in front of me. It is a PSA on “How to prescribe opioids properly.” I grew up in a place where opioid addiction is an epidemic and have lost many friends to overdoses.

The doctor finally comes in and switches on all the lights.

Doctor: “I’m going to give you something for the nausea and twenty-two Percocet.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Twenty-two Percocet for a migraine? He sees my look.

Doctor: “Okay, twenty-four, then, and here’s a note for work.”

I was too upset and flabbergasted to say much more but I took the scripts and left. I went back to work and explained what had happened and that I needed to go home. One of my coworkers offered to sell my script! 

I lost it on them and took an Uber home and just slept it off. I just couldn’t believe the doctor’s reaction or my coworker’s lack of awareness.

This’ll Make You Clench Your Teeth

, , , | Healthy | March 4, 2021

I work as a secretary in the Medical Imaging department at a local hospital. We offer appointments for MRIs. When a patient checks in, we ask them to fill out a questionnaire. This is to check if they have materials inside their body that can be dangerous because of the electromagnetic waves of the MRI.

Sometimes people can’t fill in the questionnaire. Some forget their good glasses, some can’t read or write, some don’t speak the language. Whatever the reason, we offer to read the questions to them and fill it in.

A patient comes up to me and says he can’t fill the questionnaire in on his own. I go over the questions with him. One of the questions is about dentures and whether they are magnetic.

Me: “Do you have dentures, sir?”

Patient: “Yes.”

Me: “Are they magnetic?”

Patient: “No, they are fastened with hooks. Here, look!”

The patient proceeds to pull down his mask and pull out his dentures, and he tries to shove them in my face!

Me: “That’s all right, sir. I believe you.”

I have never been happier that we had plastic shields installed at our desks.

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 11

, , , | Right | March 3, 2021

I work at a major hospital known for its trauma services and recovery care. I am a rather small female and currently the only female working as a repair technician. Our duties are to repair all of the hospital’s equipment from pumps to call systems and even the beds.

I have been out for a week on vacation. On my first day back, I get a call from our ICU recovery unit about a non-functioning bed. The nurse tells me that this is the third time someone has come out to look at this bed and they couldn’t find anything wrong.

I push a replacement bed up to the room — just in case they need to swap the patient out — and decide to take one last look before going that far. In the room is an elderly couple in which the husband is recovering from a stroke. Sitting next to the bed is his wife. 

Husband: “They sent us a girl this time? If the two guys that were here before couldn’t find the problem, how is she going to?”

Wife: “Just let her look and be quiet.”

Me: “Just humor me and let me look at a few things. It shouldn’t be more than a minute.”

Husband: “You’re not going to find anything.”

I bend down and take a look at the battery. The battery indicator is showing that the battery is completely dead. I look behind the bed and realize that the bed isn’t plugged in, so the entire time, the bed has been running on battery power and not recharging. I plug it back in and suddenly the bed starts working. Where the wife was sitting, she could see everything I did to “fix” the broken bed. 

Husband: “How did you do that? The men couldn’t figure it out. I don’t believe you were able to fix it that fast when the men couldn’t.”

Wife: “Maybe they should have sent the girl out the first time and they would have learned you need to plug things in to get them to work.”

Husband: “…”

They ended up being a super nice couple in the end and I visited them every day until the husband was released. They even sent my boss a glowing review and told them to hire more girls to actually fix things.

Related:
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 10
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 9
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 8
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 7
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 6


This story is part of our Best Of March 2021 roundup!

Read the next Best Of March 2021 roundup story!

Read the Best Of March 2021 roundup!

Lazy Medical Work Is Infectious

, , , , | Healthy | March 2, 2021

I have a lump under my chin that has been swollen to the size of a blueberry for three months. I finally go see my doctor, who refers me to a specialist.

Specialist: “Oh, that’s no good at all. Three months, you say? We should remove it as soon as possible. It could be cancerous.”

Scared, I agree and am set up to have the surgery two weeks hence. I go in for pre-surgery bloodwork one week after the specialist appointment.

The very young nurse assigned to take my blood does not clean the skin, use a tourniquet, put on gloves, or even feel around for a vein. She looks, stabs, and fails to get blood.

Then, she walks out of the room, leaving the needle stuck in my arm. The very professional older nurse who comes in next is able to draw blood easily, but I am left with a bruise taking up my entire forearm from the first nurse’s attempt. I suspect she was a very nervous student.

One week later, I come in for my surgery. I’m missing both a college exam and a few days of work for this. They start the IV and give me the first level of anesthesia, sending me to sleep.

I wake up. I yawn and find it immediately suspicious that there is no discomfort when I do so.

Nurse: “I’m sorry, but your doctor is actually out of town. She is teaching a seminar. This was her usual surgery day, but it was blocked. I don’t know how you got put on the schedule, but we can fit you in again in two weeks.”

I agree. Three days later, I cut the back of my thumb fairly deeply on a plastic notebook divider in class. I immediately leave to wash my hands and use my first aid kit to put antiseptic and a bandaid on it.

The following morning, I notice a red line creeping up from my thumb. In the next two hours, it has gotten all the way to my wrist. My first class of the day is with the same professor whose class I was in when I cut myself, and my second class of the day is three hours later with the same professor.

Me: “Hey, Professor, remember how I cut myself in class yesterday and then washed it? Yeah, I think it got infected anyway.”

Professor: “Oh, my gosh. Yeah, go to the student clinic right now. I won’t count it against you if you miss class later. I’ll email you any relevant information if you’re not there. Be safe.”

At the student clinic, they give me two different antibiotic injections, two oral antibiotic prescriptions, and instructions to go to the emergency room if the red line keeps progressing.

A few days later, it is now a week after I was supposed to have surgery. Not only has my thumb infection been defeated, but the suspicious lump is also gone. I call the specialist’s office to tell them this. Surprisingly, I get to talk to the doctor herself, not just one of the nurses.

Me: “So, I got a badly infected cut and the lump went away. What does that mean regarding my surgery?”

Specialist: “Oh, yeah, I’m reviewing your bloodwork, and based on that, it looks like you just had a low-level infection that had isolated itself in a minor lymph node, causing the swelling. If you had gotten an ultrasound, we would have been able to tell that.”

Me: “You didn’t offer me an ultrasound, though! You told me it was probably cancer and should come out immediately!”

Specialist: “Based upon the shape and size of it and what I have in my notes here, it was more likely to have been a benign tumor, not a cancerous one. If you had gotten an ultrasound, I would’ve been able to tell it was neither of those things.”

Me: “You didn’t offer me an ultrasound! I didn’t even know that was an option!”

Specialist: “Well, would you still like to have it removed?”

Me: “No! It’s totally gone and you’re telling me it was just a swollen lymph node! Please cancel my surgery. I’ll call the hospital tomorrow to make sure I’m off the schedule.”

A month later, I get a bill from the hospital for the surgery I never had as well as for the anesthesia I did have. My father works at that hospital. Armed with my lab results, which he is qualified to interpret, and my bill, he stays late after his shift to talk to the billing department for me.

They inform him that they can take off the surgical fees, but that the anesthesia will not be covered by the insurance.

Father: “Any doctor could look at these lab results and tell you that cancer is unlikely. The white blood cell types are all wrong for that. In addition, the only reason the surgery wasn’t performed at that time was because the doctor was literally out of the country. If this bill doesn’t get written off, my daughter will be suing both the hospital and the specialist for everything she possibly can.”

They saw reason, and I never had to pay anything for that fiasco. Over a decade later, that same lymph node still gets swollen every time I’m fighting off an illness. Multiple doctors have assured me it is fine and can even act as an early-warning system that I am getting sick. 

I never went back to that specialist, or that hospital, ever again.

(I Love) The Way You Make Me Feel

, , , , , | Healthy | March 1, 2021

My dad is battling cancer and needs surgery. My sister and I are waiting for him in the recovery room, and of course, our nerves are already on edge.

As we are waiting for our dad to wake up, we hear the elderly little lady in the recovery suite next door, bless her heart, break out with this:

Elderly Lady: “Wow! Anesthesia is so great! I can see why people like anesthesia! You know, like Michael Jackson and them people!”

We tried so very hard not to crack up.