Their Security Procedure Needs A Shot In The Arm

, , , , , | Working | August 16, 2017

(I’m waiting for my pneumonia shot. A woman comes in with a hypodermic.)

Woman: “I can never get these computers to work!” *types, mutters* “So hard to log in — there! Now… okay, there we are. Now let’s get your shot!”

Me: “Um, you’re not wearing any sort of ID.”

Woman: “Oh, I guess I’m not. Another nurse needed to borrow it.” *moves towards me to give shot*

Me: “I don’t think so. You’re a total stranger with no identification; we’re not doing this!” *and I’m thinking, she’s foolish enough to admit she gave someone else her ID?!*

Woman: “You’re exactly right. I’ll go get it.”

(She leaves, comes back, and waves an ID at me. I grab the ID and carefully check that the photo matches the face, which it does.)

Woman: “Let’s get this over with, because I have to get my ID back to the other nurse. She still needs it.”

Me: “No, thank you.”

(I filed a formal complaint against her at the front desk. I’ll get my shot some other time!)

A New Definition Of Puppy Love

, , , , | Romantic | August 16, 2017

My boyfriend has a untrained dog who, embarrassingly, jumps on people any chance he can get, and humps legs. One day my boyfriend came home from walking him, while I was cleaning under the TV stand, and yep, the dog tackled me and went to town before I could shove him off.

Later that month, I had a doctor’s appointment and found out I was pregnant! We had been trying, but my boyfriend was a little quiet at first. Everything went well, and when I had my ultrasound we found out we were having twins.

I told my boyfriend, “I know you’ve been worried about fatherhood, but I know everything will be fine with our little girls. My mother’s going to help out financially, and we have enough room in the nursery for a second crib.”

He replied, “It’s not the money that worried me. I’m just glad you’re not having puppies.”

Footloose With The Treatment

, , , , | Right | August 9, 2017

My aunt & uncle, both doctors, moved to rural Kentucky when they sold their practice and retired.

Since medical care is spotty in their area my aunt volunteers to make home visits to check on patients as support for local physicians.

One female patient in particular had been told to rest after surgery; when my aunt arrives the patient is bustling around the house, contrary to doctor’s orders.

When it was mentioned that she was supposed to be off her feet; apparently she had misunderstood the doctors orders of not putting your feet on the ground, as she replied “But I haven’t been outside all day!”

This Waiting Is Getting A Bit Long In The Tooth

| Toulouse, France | Working | August 3, 2017

(When I am 22, I go to the dentist about wisdom teeth. It is clear I have to have them removed. As it is a one-day thing: it pretty much means to be there at 7:30 am, operation at 9:00 am, out of the operation room at 10:00 am, gone at 6:00 pm. That morning, I drive to the clinic and once arrived, call my mother to prepare our meeting (so she would ride the bus in the afternoon to the clinic and then, drive me back to home with my car). I check myself in, go to my room, change into a hospital gown, and wait. It is now almost 9:00.)

Nurse: “Here’s a pill for you. It’s for relaxing, so you’ll be perfectly well to go to the operation room. Take it in about 15 minutes, and then we’ll come right after that and get you.”

(I thank her, wait, take the pill, and wait a little more… feeling nice and sleepy… I wake up, a little groggy, but my mouth is not sore at all… and my mother is there, sitting right next to my bed.)

Me: “Hey, Mom.”

Mom: “Are you okay?”

Me: “Yes, I’m fine. I’m glad you’re here, though you’re early. You’ll have to wait a long time for the operation to be done.”

Mom: “Isn’t it done?”

Me: “Of course not. A nurse gave me a pill, said I needed to relax, and then I passed out.”

(Then, remembering my mom had important things to do that morning, and that she couldn’t have changed her plans, I realize something and get a little angry.)

Me: “What time is it, Mom?”

Mom: “It’s 3:50 pm.”

Me: *now quite cross* “I’m here since eight and a half hours? And nobody came?”

Mom: “I’m waiting here for an hour, and I didn’t see any nurse.”

(Basically, since it was that late, that means that if I go to surgery at that moment, I have to spend the night at the clinic – and pay for it, which isn’t planned or possible at all. I am boiling, but I accept waiting a half-hour more. Then, since nothing happens…)

Me: “Give me my clothes, Mom. I’m out of here.”

Mom: “Are you sure? Maybe we should tell them about it.”

Me: “You know I’m a very sound sleeper, but nobody came to try to wake me up to tell me they were going to be late. Let’s just go.”

(Right on cue, while I’m putting my pants on, the nurse enters my room.)

Nurse: “But… what are you doing?”

Me: “I’m going out.”

Nurse: “But… you can’t. The operation—”

Me: “—was supposed to be done by now. I can’t afford a room for the night. If there was just a planning screw-up, I could understand. For any reason given, I should have waited longer, even if eight hours late is a little bit too much. But since no one even came to my room to inform me about it, I don’t see why I should be more patient and pay for it. Now, what happened?”

Nurse: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Was the surgeon late? Was he sick? Did he have car trouble? Was it the anaesthetist?”

Nurse: “I can’t tell you.”

Me: “Then, I’m truly sorry, but that just confirms my decision.”

Nurse: “I’ll have to tell the doctor.”

Me: “Please do. I’m leaving.”

(So I went back to my car, drove my mom to her place, and went home. The surgeon never bothered to explain me what happened that day but was apparently so angry at me that he refused to give back my x-ray photos to my mother as a kind of a lame punishment! A few months later, I did other x-ray pictures and went one morning to another clinic with my sister Both of us went through the same operation only one hour apart, woke up in the same room, stayed there a few hours, and were back to home before sunset. Talk about efficiency!)

Crying Over Un-Drunk Milk

| USA | Working | July 22, 2017

(While I know people have differing opinions whether cow’s milk is an important part of our diet, I personally feel it’s important for a growing child. For the first year of his life, my son drank nothing but breast milk, straight from the tap, since he refused to take a bottle. When I tried to introduce cow’s milk into his diet at age 12 months, he would have none of it. I did a lot of online research and tried everything I could think of, but nothing was working. I continued nursing, and I brought it up with the doctor at his 15-month well visit. Note: we are military and do not have a designated pediatrician. We attend the medical clinic on base and receive care from whichever doctor is available that day. I’ve interacted with this particular doctor before, on a sick visit with my other son, and I wasn’t impressed with her.)

Doctor: “Everything looks great. Do you have any questions or concerns?”

Me: “Yes, I’m having a hard time getting him to drink milk. I know it’s important, so do you have any tips?”

Doctor: *horrified* “Oh, he NEEDS to drink milk! It’s vital for his growing body!”

Me: “Yes, I know that. That’s why I’m concerned. How can I get him to drink it? He won’t drink anything but water from his cup.”

Doctor: *lecturing* “Now, milk is full of calcium and protein, plus he needs the fat to help his developing brain.”

Me: “Yes! I know! He won’t drink it! I’ve tried mixing it with chocolate milk, soy milk, rice milk, coconut milk; nothing is working.”

Doctor: “No! Soy milk is NOT the same thing as cow’s milk. That is not sufficient. He needs COW’S MILK.”

Me: “That’s not what I said. I said I tried mixing cow’s milk with soy milk. I figure, if I can just get him to drink SOMETHING, I can then gradually change the ratio of cow’s milk to ‘filler’ until he’s drinking plain cow’s milk. I wish I could mix it with breast milk, but I stopped pumping once I realized he wouldn’t take a bottle, and I donated what I had in the freezer when we moved six months ago, plus gave away my pump.”

Doctor: “Oh, you’re still breastfeeding?” *I had indicated that on my intake paperwork AND mentioned it previously during the exam* “You should stop that. He’ll start drinking the milk then.”

Me: *shocked* “No… No, that’s not a valid reason to wean him. I only nurse him a few times a day, plus there is no evidence that one is connected to the other.”

Doctor: “Well, he needs to drink cow’s milk and he needs to drink it soon.”

Me: “I agree!”

Doctor: “He should be drinking 8-12 oz a day! You’re telling me he’s not drinking any, at all?”

(Long silence while we look at each other.)

Doctor: “Please get him to drink milk.” *starts to walk out the door*

Me: *as she’s leaving* “How?!”

(I returned home, fired up Google, and finally got him drinking milk. He’s now 2.5 years old and loves milk so much I have to ration it. The military has offered us many opportunities over the years, but there are some simple things of which I’m envious — like forming a relationship with a medical provider and receiving continued care over the years.)

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