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When The Pill Popper Pops

| Right | April 23, 2013

(My father is a physician. I am waiting to take him to lunch when a patient comes stomping out of his exam room with him.)

Patient: “All I’m saying is, I need a prescription for Vicodin!”

My Father: “Ma’am, I’m not writing you a prescription for that. Your condition is in no way severe enough for narcotic pain medication. I can prescribe you some Ibuprofen if you’d like something to help with inflammation.”

Patient: “F*** you! I said I needed Vicodin! My wrist really hurts, and other doctors have given it to me without all this s***!”

My Father: “I’m sorry your wrist hurts, but nothing shows up to suggest there is anything serious going on. If those other doctors will write you the prescription, you’re welcome to go to them for a second opinion.”

(It has become obvious that she is not getting what she wants, so she settles instead for cursing and yelling at my father as much as she can on her way out. She verbally abuses the nurse at the front desk, and then turns to deliver the best parting shot she can come up with.)

Patient: “You’re pathetic! Get a real f****** job!”

An Empty-Headed Action

| Related | April 23, 2013

(My wife has a bad kneecap, and has dislocated it several times. She also has a genetic nerve disorder, so she is very practiced at using all sorts of aids, canes, walkers, wheel chairs, and crutches. She’s graduating, and losing her internship, and her coworkers take her out to eat downtown.)

Coworker: “Oh! Here, let me help you get your chair down off the curb!”

Wife: “No, no, no! Watch this! Watch what I can do!”

(She shoos all her coworkers back at least five feet, then rolls her wheelchair backwards up to the edge of the curb. She promptly falls over backwards, slamming the back of her head into the roadway. We take her to the ER.)

Doctor: “You’ll be happy to know that I’ve looked over the x-ray of your head, and I didn’t find anything at all.”

Me: “Can I have that in writing? And a copy of the x-ray?”

Abstinence Is The Best Gay

| Working | April 13, 2013

(I am seeing my doctor for a yearly physical. Since the last time I’ve seen her, I have come out of the closet and started dating another woman.)

Doctor: “Are you dating anyone right now?”

Me: “Yes.”

Doctor: “Are you sexually active?”

Me: “Yes.”

Doctor: “What kind of birth control are you using? The Pill? Condoms?”

Me: “…Lesbianism?”

Doctor: “Oh, well, that works, too.”

The Waiting Blame Game

| Right | April 12, 2013

(It is a particularly busy day; the doctor is backed up nearly an hour. I am informing a patient who is checking in.)

Patient: “AN HOUR?!? Are you kidding me? He expects me to wait an hour?”

Me: “Yes, sir. I do apologize for the wait, but—”

Patient: “I just need my test results. Give me a copy!”

Me: “I can do that. Give me just a moment to make a copy.”

(I take the report to the copier. A 94-year-old woman is checking out with my coworker.)

Me: “Here you go, sir, your results.”

(The patient reads through the results.)

Patient: “Well, what does this word mean?”

(He reads off a long medical term. Despite the fact that I know the meaning of the word, I am not allowed to explain his results to him due to HIPAA regulations.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I’m unable to explain the results to you. This is why you have your appointment to speak with the doctor.”

Patient: “But you’re a nurse! You have to explain this to me! I didn’t eat any god-d*** lunch before this appointment, and if I don’t get a sandwich soon I’ll—”

(The 94-year-old patient pipes up.)

94-Year-Old Patient: “Excuse me, sir, but you are the rudest man I’ve ever known! Talking to a young girl like that! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. If you want your test results, you’d better wait. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my 94 years on this earth, it’s that you should make the most of the time you have. If you have to spend that time in a doctor’s office waiting, well then, S*** HAPPENS!”

(The man slinks away from the desk, sits in a chair, and mopes. He does, in fact, have to wait for an hour. He doesn’t say a word to any of us for the rest of his visit!)

Doesn’t Have Him In Stitches

| Related | April 4, 2013

(I am four years old. I cut my head open by tripping into a brick fireplace. I have managed to cut my head open and get stitches every year I have been alive, so I am used to needles.)

Doctor: “Wow! I have never seen a kid this young not even bat an eye at getting stitches in their face, let alone not cry.”

Mom: “He’s had plenty of practice.”

Doctor: *not amused*