Ankle-Deep In Misdiagnoses

, , , , , , | Healthy | August 29, 2018

I am going down the steps from my porch and misstep, and end up breaking my leg in three places right near my ankle. It is a Friday night, so I can’t get an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon until Monday.

When I go in for my appointment, I first see a nurse assistant with a very unique name. We talk about how it happened and my medical history. And because I’m female, she asks when my last period was. It has been almost a year. I’m on continuous birth control, despite not being sexually active, because during that time of the month, my migraines and fibromyalgia get to the point where I can’t function. She then goes to get the doctor, and from the room she has taken us to, we hear an argument break out over “who cancelled the appointment of the broken ankle girl.” I still don’t see how that’s possible, considering we made that appointment only an hour earlier. I end up being seen by another doctor with more of a specialty in what I need, so it works out and I forget about the weirdness.

Fast forward a week to when I can finally have surgery. I’m in the hospital gown, have an IV in, and I’m being asked the same questions again and again: spell my name, what’s my birth date, etc. Finally the nurse looks at me funny and looks at my ankle splint — which has a ton of padding and is massive — and tells me, “I know it seems obvious, but I need you to tell me what you’re here for.” I tell her to fix my ankle. She nods and tells me that that nurse assistant — I remember her unique name — had put me down as coming in for a hysterectomy. I’m not sure if she was trying to — inaccurately — note in my file that I’d had one because I hadn’t had my period in a year, or somehow managed to screw up why I was seeing an orthopedic surgeon when I had three broken bones. But I guess that will forever be a mystery.

An Expensive Mi-Steak

, , , , | Right | August 29, 2018

(I work as a manager in a high-end restaurant. During one shift I notice a woman has barely touched her rib-eye steak — our steaks are well-known at this establishment — so I approach their table.)

Me: “Hello, ma’am. I noticed you didn’t touch your rib-eye. Was everything okay?”

Customer: “I’m so sorry. Everything else was delicious, but I don’t like this rib-eye.”

Me: “I’m so sorry to hear that, ma’am. We can make you something new, if you’d like. But I will certainly take this off the check for you.” *it’s a $30 steak* “May I ask what was wrong with it?”

Woman: “It was cooked just fine, but it was too tender and very fatty. I hate fat, and it’s all throughout it.”

(I facepalmed as I threw out this delicious-looking steak. Why did she order the rib-eye when it’s known for being tender, and one of the fattiest and most delicious cuts of steak?)

Easier Than Going To Kansas City, Missouri

, , , , , | Learning | August 20, 2018

(I am a teacher.)

Me: *ending class* “Any other burning questions I can answer before you guys go?”

(One of my teens tries to be a smarta**.)

Teen: “Yeah, what’s the capital of Kansas?”

Me: “Topeka.”

Teen: *pause* “Oregon?”

Me: “Salem.”

(Goes through a few more.)

Teen: “Do you know all the state capitals?”

Me: “I used to, at least. We could keep going.”

(The teen tries a couple more, ending with Oklahoma.)

Me: “Oklahoma City.”

Teen: “Well, that one’s just lazy.”

Valet Away

, , , , , | Legal | August 12, 2018

(I arrive at work to find the assistant store manager looking frazzled.)

Manager: “You just missed the police.”

Me: “Why were the police here?”

Manager: “I had a customer call for a manager. He was very upset that an employee wouldn’t call the valet to return his car.”

Me: “We don’t have a valet…”

Manager: “Yup. He refused to believe that because he had given his keys to the valet and they drove away when he got here.”

Me: “Oh… oh, no.”

Manager: “Yeah, hence… police.”

Suffering Bad Pet Owners

, , , , , | Healthy | July 30, 2018

(I work the front desk in a highly recommended vet hospital that has both appointments with doctors and a walk-in emergency service. Emergency visits are always a trip. A young man walks in, carrying his dachshund mix. He tells me that his dog is having respiratory distress, so I take her back to see the doctor first before getting his information. It turns out that the dog has been having breathing troubles for two days. The doctor is not impressed with that info and, with client approval, takes some x-rays to see what might be going on internally. It’s cancer, a lot of cancer in all of the places. The dog is not comfortable outside of oxygen, so the vet goes to talk to the owner to explain that euthanasia is the only humane option. By this point, the owner’s father has come to join him and has brought his own dog. He is handling the dog very roughly and occasionally whacks the dog lightly with the end of the leash when he thinks the dog is misbehaving.)

Father: “Vets just want to take your money! Don’t worry, [Dog], they’re not going to see you. This is where dogs come to die.”

(He is making other clients uncomfortable, so I warn the ER doctor as she goes in to speak with them. The client is understandably shocked and upset, but the father is whole other matter.)

Father: “We’re not ready to put her down yet. Can you give us meds to keep her comfortable for another week?”

Vet: “Sir, she isn’t comfortable at all outside of oxygen. It would be against medical advice to take her out of oxygen and take her home.”

Father: “I’ll take her out of oxygen if I want to! It’s not like she’s suffering!”

(The vet was literally so angry she had to leave the room because yes, this dog was suffering! The father continued to be resistant, but the client agreed that it was in her best interest to euthanize her immediately, and handled the rest of the visit like a rational adult.)


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