They’re Not In A Hive Mind On This One

| USA | Working | April 12, 2017

(My husband visits his doctor and is prescribed a new asthma medicine. He takes the first dose before bed and wakes up covered in hives. He ignores them and continues on with his day. By day two, they are bad so he goes to the doctor.)

Doctor: “Allergic reaction. You using new soap or shampoo?”

Husband: “No.”

Doctor: “Laundry detergent.”

Me: “Not only is it the same brand, I’ve been using this bottle for weeks.”

Doctor: “That’s it. Buy a different brand. Take these antihistamines.”

(We leave, get the Rx for the meds, and buy new detergent. I rewash everything of his. The hives continue so he calls the doctor.)

Doctor: “Must be the soap or shampoo. Switch to something else and take this additional antihistamine.”

(We try that but the hives continue. Each morning they are bad and go down as the day goes on. Finally I realize something.)

Me: “You take your new asthma meds at night. I think you are allergic.”

(My husband skips them that night and wakes to no hives. He calls the doctor.)

Doctor: “You can’t be allergic to those meds. No one is allergic to them.”

Husband: “Well, I skipped them last night and I have no hives.”

Doctor: “That just means you stopped using whatever else you are allergic to. You can’t stop your medicine. You need it.”

Husband: “Well, I was fine before I started taking it. I’m fine when I stop taking it. I will try one more dose but if the hives come back, I’m never taking it again.”

(He tries one more dose and wakes up covered in hives. He calls back.)

Doctor: “You MUST take this medicine. It’s the newest and the best. You need it.”

Husband: “I can’t take it. I’m allergic.”

Doctor: “Either take it or find a new doctor.”

Husband: “Okay, new doctor it is.”

(The new doctor’s diagnosis? He’s allergic to the meds.)

The Ingredients Of A Problem

| Wales, UK | Working | April 7, 2017

(I’ve been diagnosed with anaemia and ask that the iron supplements I am prescribed don’t contain gelatine, but the first subscription does. The following occurs when I call to see if my second prescription is ready yet.)

Receptionist: “The pharmacist will swap your medicine for one that is suitable if you take in your prescription.”

Me: “Oh, I don’t have the prescription. I filled it, which is how I found out this first one wasn’t suitable.”

Receptionist: “Oh. You shouldn’t have filled it, because that’s waste now.”

Me: “I know, but how could I know it wasn’t suitable until I got the pills and read the ingredients?”

Receptionist: “You should have said when you were in the pharmacy.”

Me: “Yeah. But I would still have had to open the box to read the ingredients, and then they won’t exchange them.”

Receptionist: “No, they won’t. But you could have asked the pharmacist before filling it.”

Me: “I didn’t think I needed to, since when I asked the doctor for the prescription I asked for it to not contain gelatine.”

Receptionist: “Well, if you hadn’t filled it, you could have swapped it for one that was suitable.”

(She calls me back not long after.)

Receptionist: “I just called a pharmacist and he says tablets don’t have gelatine in, only capsules.”

Me: “Yeah, it’s the first tablets I’ve ever seen with gelatine in. Not sure why it’s in there, but it’s listed as an ingredient.”

Receptionist: “No, because there’s no capsule the pharmacist says you can take those.”

Me: *confused* “But I read the ingredients and it says ‘gelatine.'”

Receptionist: *annoyed* “Fine. But you’ll have to wait until the weekend is over to get anything else.”

Had An Un-beer-lievable Run

| Sydney, NSW, Australia | Related | March 31, 2017

(My pop was an amazing man with a wicked sense of humor. When he was diagnosed with emphysema he quit smoking and would only have one beer a day. After he’d been sick for about eight years my dad, grandma, and I take him to the doctors.)

Doctor: “I’m sorry. There’s not much more we can do except keep you as comfortable as possible but you don’t have long.”

Pop: “I bought a case of beer this morning. I drink one a day. Am I going to get to finish it?”

(While the doctor didn’t know how to answer, dad and I pissed ourselves laughing.

The kicker is, he’d just finished the last beer in the case when he died of a heart attack.)

That’s Not The Way To Get Their Number

| Rocklin, CA, USA | Right | March 25, 2017

(I’m typing in a patient’s vitals in the exam room and have just asked her to rate her pain on a 1-10 scale.)

Patient: “Well, it feels kinda like someone took a piece of rebar and shoved it in my hip from here all the way to here.”

(As she was speaking, she had come over to where I was standing at the computer, and ran her finger firmly down my butt to my calf! I was too surprised to move and she clearly didn’t intend anything by it, but it’s a lot more intimate than I usually get with patients! And she never did give me a number. That was all I wanted.)

Cyst-emic Failures

| PA, USA | Working | March 24, 2017

(My fairly well-known gynecologist office that employs multiple doctors had been great for me… until this all happened last spring. My husband and I went in for a check-up (on his birthday nonetheless) to find that I am having a first trimester miscarriage. Ensue a month of failure. Doctor #1 is male.)

Doctor #1: “So sorry about your loss. You have two options; we can remove it or you can pass it naturally.”

Me: “What can I expect passing it naturally?”

Doctor #1: “Some mild to heavy cramping up to a week; we want you to come back in if nothing happens after a week.”

Me: *having experienced heavy cramping before and tired of having probes stuck inside of me* “I’ll just pass it naturally.”

Doctor #1: “All right. Now, about this cyst on your right ovary—”

Me & Husband: “What cyst?!”

Doctor #1: *looks taken back* “You saw [Doctor #2] last month, yes?”

Me: “Yes, but she didn’t say anything about a cyst!”

(So we schedule for the cyst removal surgery with Doctor #1 at the end of the month. Figuring if I’m only going to experience heavy cramping, then I can still work, I resume my job the next day.)

Me: “Hey, I’m a bit of a complainer, so don’t mind me if I start rambling over here.”

Coworker: “Totally understandable. You’re fine.”

(Ten minutes later.)

Me: *starts to get some intense cramping* “Ugh, should’ve knocked on wood!”

(Over the next twenty minutes, I experience THE most horrific pain I have ever felt in my life. It was so bad I was in tears and had my husband take me to the ER, where I promptly got sick. They had me lie in a bed over the next six hours on pain meds that at least made the pain more bearable. The pain, by the way, began to come in contraction-like waves exactly five minutes apart. Late the next day, I pass the miscarriage, and then make a follow-up appointment with the office. I’m experiencing some tenderness and am feeling rather emotional over everything. Yet another probe goes into me and they suggest I have a procedure to “clean out” everything, which worsens my emotional state.)

Nurse: “The doctor has to approve you for the procedure, but she’s in.”

(So I cancel my much needed therapy appointment and drive to the office. I’m charged a co-pay, but am not in the mindset to ask why I am paying, since my insurance covers co-pays. I sit mutely and wait a bit until I’m called back.)

Nurse: “All right, if you can stand on the scale.”

Me: “Why? I’m here to see the doctor to get approved for the procedure. I literally just came from the other office.”

Nurse: “Oh, well, so the placenta didn’t come out?”

Me: “I… guess not?”

Nurse: “But the baby was delivered fine.”

Me: *thinking that’s an odd choice of words* “I… uh, delivered last night?”

Nurse: *looks at me as if I’ve grown a third head* “Well, who’s watching over the baby?”

Me: *shocked* “I had a miscarriage!”

Nurse: “OH!” *mumbles* “The doctor will see you shortly.” *beelines it out of the room*

(I’m rather upset that they wouldn’t have this whole business in my own paperwork when none other but Doctor #2 comes in.)

Doctor #2: “Oh, hello. Sorry about your loss. And about the cyst. They told me you didn’t know. I must’ve forgotten to write it in.” *looks at her clipboard* “You’re fine. Sorry about your loss again.” *leaves*

(I am flabbergasted at not only paying for mishandled paperwork but also for the doctor to say two words that she could have said over the phone. The procedure goes smoothly. Fast forward to the end of the month, where I’m checked in for the cyst removal surgery. The surgeon assistant comes up with some paperwork for me to sign and begins to read off what will be done.)

Surgeon Assistant: “We’ll be removing the cyst on the right ovary and check the left for a possible cyst—”

Me & Husband: “WHAT?”

Surgeon Assistant: *awkwardly* “Oh, he didn’t tell you… Uh, yes, there might be one on the left ovary. How about you speak with him before you sign?”

Husband: “YES, thank you.”

(After he leaves, my husband begins cursing out the entire medical office and their blunders while I’m trying to wonder how in the world they can have such grievous miscommunication. Cue waiting for a very long time, to the point where the surgeon assistants walk past our little room several times, occasionally checking to see if Doctor #1 has spoken with us yet. Eventually Doctor #1 comes in, says that while they didn’t see anything from the probes, he just wants to make sure. Tired of this whole ordeal, I sign and into surgery we go, which thankfully is a success with one cyst removal. A week later, I’m in the gynecologist office for the follow-up appointment and the icing on the cake.)

Doctor #1: *leans forward, looking excited* “So do you want to see the cyst?”

Me: “NO.”

Doctor #1: *looks very disappointed*

(SERIOUSLY?! Needless to say, I haven’t been back.)

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