It’s 2020, and I’ve accidentally changed counties. As ridiculous as it sounds, that means my doctor who has been treating me for years is legally no longer allowed to, as the office only takes the Medi-Cal low-income free health insurance associated with [County #1].

After extensive calling around, I get a phone intake (no one is really doing in-person appointments in late March 2020). The doctor asks me personal questions for over an hour, for what was supposed to be a half-hour appointment.

I’m just scared about a lapse in my vital medications, so I’m trying to just bear it, but I have to go to work.

He calls me to finish the intake on a Sunday, on his own time, and asks me personal questions about my childhood and trauma for another hour and a half.

Eventually, I start begging him to refill my medications, offering to send a plethora of documentation. He refuses the documentation, accuses me of being medication-seeking, and says that he has to evaluate me himself to decide what meds I should be on.

He is the only doctor I could get an appointment with, so I am trying desperately to hold my tongue.

Me: “Can I suggest we go over what medications I’ve been on and why, just so you have a comprehensive history?”

Doctor: “I can agree to fill some of them, but not [specific medication]. You’re too fat for it.”

I am speechless for a bit.

Me: “How?”

Doctor: “It’s my discretion and—”

Me: *Interrupting* “Do you know much I weigh?”

Doctor: “Tell me.”

Me: “No.”

Doctor: “That just confirms it; since you don’t want to tell me, you must be fat.”

Me: “I weigh 157 pounds. I’m 5’7″ and I’ve been working out so much lately that I might actually be underweight.”

I shouldn’t have said that because he switches tactics.

Doctor: “You can’t have [specific medication] if you’re underweight.”

Me: “How much am I supposed to weigh, and how do you expect me to prove this?”

Doctor: “If you don’t stop being non-compliant, I won’t fill any of your meds.”

So, I shut up, even though that’s not really what non-compliant means.

I called his office to complain, and the receptionist said that she knows him well, that he is very nice, and that he would never do that, and then she hung up on me.

It actually got worse.

He put me on a new medication, threatened to stop treating me if I didn’t start taking it, and then wouldn’t listen to my complaints. My complaint was that it made me irritable to the point that the smallest thing would actually enrage me. I then snapped at him on the phone, and he started screaming at me. I pointed out that he was the professional, not me, so he screamed more, and my housemate had to remind me to de-escalate.

I had to keep sucking up to that guy for months, with increasingly bad health due to not having all of my medications, until I finally used my old address to re-enroll in my old county. I really hope he no longer practices medicine.

As a middle-aged dude, I just went in for my first colonoscopy. I was not looking forward to it. The med center sent me a fairly thick instruction packet. One of the last instructions was to bring a list of all medications you’re taking and when you last took them.

At my appointment, the intake nurse went through all the usual questions like medical allergies and such. Then she said:

Intake Nurse: “Now I’m going to go through your medications. Some of this might be out of date.”

Me: “I have this list…”

Intake Nurse: *Taking the list* “We’ll still go through them, just in case.”

But then she started reading and mumbling to herself.

Intake Nurse: “Okay, and that one. And the night before last…”

And so on. She made me laugh when she finished, looked at me, and said:

Intake Nurse: “You’re the first patient I ever had who actually brought the whole list.”

This helped my stress level but also made me wonder what’s wrong with people. If you’re having a procedure that involves anesthesia, give the doctors all the information they ask for!

Recently, my quality assurance has handed down a new policy.

Policy: “Employees are not to use any abbreviations in call notes whatsoever. Shorthand is not permitted.”

I work in a call center taking information for admissions of new medical clients, so the people reading my charts/notes will be medical professionals. The only abbreviations used are those commonly known in the practice, such as IOP (intensive outpatient), ASAP (who doesn’t know this?), and etc. (come on now).

I adopted their rule to the letter. I wrote out every single thing that would typically be abbreviated. Sometimes, the notes required that times be recorded. For example: “I set the callback expectation for ‘by 10:00 am’.”

In my most recent scoring, I was marked off for “spelling errors in notes”.

Me: “Can we review my scores, please?”

Supervisor: “Writing ‘ante meridiem’ is what caused you to lose points.”

I kindly cited the new rule that required no abbreviations to be used.

Supervisor: “I’ve never heard that term before.”

Me: “It’s the long form of the term ‘am’ in times. It’s Latin, and it means ‘before midday’.”

My score was amended to reflect no error was made.

I have severe arthritis and walk on two canes. I am only sixty-two, but my hair is white. I have lost a lot of weight. It is fair to say I present as elderly and frail.

My friend has driven me to a large medical complex to see a specialist. We park under a huge portico while she goes in to get a wheelchair for me. It is a brisk winter day, and I am sitting on the passenger side in the closed car, holding my canes, waiting for my friend to return.

In the side-view mirror, a sturdy, thin woman around seventy years old has emerged from I don’t know where. She is stomping along in a fur coat and pair of high-heeled boots, swinging a sacral support pillow. She looks mad, and I casually wonder what her story might be.

Suddenly, she is there, rapping on my window. I can’t lower the window, so I open the door an inch.

Me: “Yes?” 

Angry Woman: “You are in the way! You can’t stop here. This is a place for people who need help getting in and out. You are in the way!”

There is room for three cars behind us, if anyone else were present, which no one is.

Me: “I am a person who needs help. My friend is getting a wheelchair.”

[Angry Woman] makes a face like she has just smelled something horrible and literally says:

Angry Woman: “Hmmph!”

She turns on her heel and stomps toward the building entrance. At the door, she has to wait for my friend to come out the door with the wheelchair, and she shouts at her.

Angry Woman: “Is that your car?”

Friend: *Confused* “Um, yes?”

Angry Woman: “You’re in the way!”

And she stomps into the building.

As my friend helps me out of the car, she asks:

Friend: “What on Earth is her problem?”

Me: “I don’t have a clue, but you don’t have to see that support pillow she is carrying to know she is butthurt about something.”

A patient calls us one morning.

Me: “Good morning, [Doctor]’s office. How can I help you?”

Patient: “What time do you open?”

Me: “We’re open now.”

Patient: “What time, though?”

Me: “We open for labwork at 7:30.”

Patient: “Okay, well, I had an appointment at 7:30, and the doors were locked. The hours posted outside say you open at 8:30.”

This is true, but that is for walk-ins. I arrived at 7:25 — about an hour ago — and unlocked the doors. I remember something, though.

Me: “I saw a car in the parking lot when I came in. Was that you?”

Patient: “Probably? You didn’t say anything?”

There’s no way I’m going to approach some random car in our lot.

Me: “No, I didn’t know who you were.”

Patient: “That’s why you say something! Your doors were locked when I was there.”

Me: “I unlocked them at 7:25.”

Patient: “And you don’t want people to arrive early for appointments?”

Me: “Not for lab work, no.”

Patient: *Irate* “Well, what am I supposed to do now?”

Me: “We can do your labs now or send you to the hospital for them.”

Patient: “That’s not going to work! I had an appointment and you were locked. I can’t do it now.”

Me: “We weren’t; we opened at 7:30.”

Patient: “You weren’t! And you saw me and didn’t do anything?”

Me: “Sir, we were open at 7:30.”

Patient: “WELL, OBVIOUSLY, YOU DON’T GIVE A S***!” *Hangs up*

This call only lasted a few minutes, but the way they yelled at me made me upset. I spoke to the doctor about it, and he immediately released the patient. They had a follow-up scheduled for the next week, and when they showed up, our doctor spoke to them and let them go. Good riddance!