CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(Some of my coworkers and I are taking a CPR class to get certified for work. We’re at the part where we’re learning to do chest compressions.)

Instructor: “Now, it’s important that you keep a good, steady beat with the compressions. A way you can remember how fast to go is if you follow the beat of the song Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees.”

(We all laugh.)

Me: “Well, that’s appropriate, because that’s what you’re trying to do: keep them alive.”

Instructor: “Yeah! Although, someone once told me that it also worked with Another One Bites the Dust. That’s not appropriate!”

(It is a Friday afternoon at roughly 1:30 pm. My phone rings and I answer, but I cannot understand what the woman on the other end has just said.)

Me: “I’m sorry; could you repeat that?”

Receptionist: *garbled* “This is [Name] from [Doctor’s Office]. Are you [My Name]?”

(This is proceeded by crunching noises and I realize she’s eating. While on the phone with me.)

Me: “Oh, yes, this is she.”

Receptionist: *still garbled as she takes another bite* “You have an appointment on—” *pause to chew* “–Monday.”

Me: “Yes, I am aware.”

Receptionist: *between crunching of what must be chips* “At 2:45 pm.”

Me: “Yes, that’s correct.”

(There is a minute’s pause as she goes through another chew and swallow cycle of her food.)

Receptionist: “So, are you showing up or what?”

Me: *taken aback* “Well, yes. I will be there Monday.”

Receptionist: *crunching on more chips* “Good. Bye.” *hangs up*

(I could not believe she was eating while on the phone. I guess even if you’re working through your lunch hour you can take a minute to stop eating to confirm an appointment!)

(I am a receptionist in a doctor’s office. A patient has finished seeing the doctor, and as approached my desk to make another follow up appointment.)

Me: “Hi there, [First Name]. It looks like you need to come back in a month. Do you have a day of the week that you like better than another?”

Patient: “Nope! I’m retired now and free as a bird! Any day of the week is fine.”

Me: “Okay, I have the 12th of next month; that’s a Tuesday.”

Patient: “Oh, no, Tuesdays are no good. I have charity meetings on Tuesdays.”

Me: “Okay, how about the next day, the 13th? That’s a Wednesday.”

Patient: “Ooooo, you know what? I get my hair done on Wednesdays.”

Me: “How about the 14th, Thursday?”

Patient: “No, Thursdays aren’t good, either. I babysit my granddaughters on Thursdays. How about that Friday?”

Me: “Okay, Friday the 15th it is. Would you like a morning or an afternoon appointment?”

Patient: “As early as possible.”

Me: “You’re in luck; I have a slot available on the 15th at 8 am.”

Patient: “Oh, gosh, no! That’s much too early. How about around lunchtime?”

(She does this every time she’s in. You’d think I would have learned by now!)

(During first full week of Advanced Placement and IB tests of my junior year in high school I find myself struck with a particularly nasty illness called norovirus, which causes nearly non-stop vomiting and diarrhea. I am home alone, as my father is out the whole week for business, and I am taking the bus to and from school for exams. Since I knew I cannot miss any of these tests on such short notice, I manage to tough it out for four days, but at that point I have not been able to eat or drink anything that remains in my stomach for more than five minutes. Severely dehydrated and weak, I finally decide to go to a close-by clinic for IV fluids after school. Since they need a doctor on-site to legally be able to give fluids, I call ahead.)

Nurse: “Hello, [Clinic]. This is [Nurse]. How may I help you?”

Me: *very quietly as my throat has started to develop acid sores* “Hi… Do you have the… Do you do IV fluids?”

Nurse: “What’s that, sweetie? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Me: “I need IV fluids… I really need them.”

Nurse: “Unfortunately we don’t have a doctor with us right now, hun.” *I start crying, since at this point I’m worried I will not be able to get out of bed tomorrow for my next exam* “Sweetie, what’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

Me: “No… I think I got norovirus from that restaurant that was shut down last week and I’m home alone and I have my AP tests that I can’t miss and I haven’t been able to eat or drink anything for days and I’m getting too weak to do anything! I can’t go to the ER because my dad didn’t leave me enough money to cover anything and I really need to go to my exam tomorrow!”

Nurse: “All right, sweetie, give me one second.” *the line is silent for about five minutes* “Okay, hun, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to go out to you and pick you up, then we’re going to go to the [Clinic] downtown and get you your fluids. After that I’ll take you home and you give me your exam schedule. Is tomorrow your last day for exams until next week?”

Me: *shocked at her kindness* “Yes, ma’am.”

Nurse: “All righty. Then I’ll take you to your exam tomorrow morning and then we do need to check you into the hospital, all right, sweetie? Give me your address and I’ll be there in a few minutes. Call your dad and tell him what is going on, okay?”

(This nurse had negotiated with her supervisor to get the next two days off work so she could make sure I was taken care of and safe. After my exam the next day she picked me up and took me to the hospital, used a few personal favors to get me in quickly and hold off on payment, and stayed with me until my father could get there. We have since become good friends, and I am currently working on my own MD while volunteering at her clinic. This woman is why nurses really should rule the world!)

Related:
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 5
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 6
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 7

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(I am in a therapy appointment, and we’re talking about my tendency to say that I ‘should’ do things, which leads to guilt and procrastination.)

Therapist: So, when people ‘should’ themselves, it makes things even worse. You need to stop ‘shoulding’ yourself. In fact, this week, your homework is going to be to keep track of how many times you ‘should’ yourself, and to work on ‘shoulding’ yourself as little as possible.”

Me: *starts giggling*

Therapist: “What…?”

Me: *still laughing* “You, uh… you just might want to find a different way of saying that. It sounds… well, it kind of sounds like you’re saying ‘shi*ting yourself.’ I’m sorry. I’m being so childish but…” *I dissolve into giggles, unable to talk anymore*

Therapist: *starts laughing uncontrollably as well* “Well, you shouldn’t be doing that either!”