For checking in appointments, my doctor’s office staff first asks for your birthday (American style).
Receptionist: “Birth date?”
Me: “Ten, twenty-eight, sixty-four.”
Receptionist: “Nineteen sixty-four?”
Me: *Thinking* “No, 1864. I’m 158 years old.”
Me: *Speaking* “Yes, 1964…”
I work in a medical clinic. The blinds are closed and the lights are off, but the front door is open to let staff in. We have put a large red sign on the door saying that walk-in appointments are closed. There are two other signs saying this, along with three “No Shoes” signs.
A lady walks in wearing muddy boots. It’s not raining.
Lady: “So, I saw the sign saying walk-ins were closed. Can I see the doctor today? I don’t have an appointment.”
Me: “Sorry, no. The doctor is literally not in the clinic today.”
Lady: “So, he can see me?”
Me: “No, he can’t; he is not here.”
Lady: “I’ll just wait here until he has an opening.”
Me: “He is not in the province and will not return for the week. We cannot help you.”
Lady: “Thanks for wasting my time! I guess I’ll just die!”
I’m visiting the doctor for my yearly checkup. The nurse, a young man, goes through the regular questions. They go in a somewhat unexpected direction.
Nurse: “Do you exercise?”
Me: “Yes.”
Nurse: “How often?”
Me: “Three times a week.”
Nurse: “For how long?”
Me: “One hour each.”
Nurse: “Do you drink?”
Me: “Alcohol?”
Nurse: “Yes.”
Me: “No.”
Nurse: “Smoke?”
Me: “No.”
Nurse: “Smoke things other than cigarettes?”
Me: “Only briskets.”
Nurse: “Is that a drug, or…?”
Me: “It’s meat.”
I see the confused look on his face
Me: “Beef.”
He looks more confused.
Me: “Cow.”
Nurse: “Are those slang, or…?”
Me: “No. It’s not a drug.”
Nurse: “And you smoke it by… lighting them on fire and sucking on the smoke?”
Me: “No. In my smoker.”
Nurse: “Um…”
Me: “My grill.”
Nurse: “Is that like a bong?”
Me: “No it’s a device for cooking.”
Nurse: “Cooking… drugs?”
Me: “No. Cooking food. Like an oven, only it’s out in your yard and you heat it up with charcoal instead of gas. Well, unless it’s a gas grill.”
Nurse: “Laughing gas? And is charcoal another word for… coke?”
Me: “I feel like this conversation isn’t quite going correctly. Can we forget this whole digression, and I can answer the question again?”
Nurse: “Okay…”
Me: “I do not do any drugs that are not prescribed to me.”
Nurse: “You have a prescription drug habit? Like, what, OxyContin? Adderall?”
Me: “I… Look. I don’t think we’re communicating well. Can I get another nurse?”
He leaves, and then I wait in the room for a while. After a bit, someone shows up with a clipboard. He checks the notes.
Nurse #2: “It says here you have… a drug habit? Are you looking to go into rehab?”
Me: “No.”
Nurse #2: “You really should. Doing drugs isn’t just bad for you; it—”
Me: “I don’t have a drug habit. I don’t do any drugs. The nurse misunderstood my attempt to make a joke, and my follow-up attempts to explain it just made him more confused.”
Nurse #2: “What was the joke?”
Me: “He asked if I smoked anything other than cigarettes, and I said I smoked brisket.”
Nurse #2: *Laughing* “That’s a pretty funny joke.”
Me: “Thanks! I thought it was, too!”
Nurse #2: “Buuut you should probably refrain from joking with medical personnel. Some of us are only running on a couple of hours of sleep, and it can make us a bit, uhhh…”
He struggles for a bit to find the word he is looking for.
Me: “Yeah. I think I’ve learned my lesson.”
And I have never again joked with medical personnel.
The last time I saw my ophthalmologist I asked her:
Me: “Did you know when you die, the eyes are the last to go?”
Ophthalmologist: “No, I’ve never heard of that.”
Me: “It’s because the eyes die late.”
It took her a couple seconds to get it.
I work for an STD clinic, and I am handling intake. A guy comes up after having filled out a form. I run through some basics and then hand him a vial. I get the impression he just wants to get this over with, but he nods that he understands.
Me: “Please use one of the rooms to your left, place the vial with the sample inside the secured bag, and place the secured bag in our biological drop-off box.”
He nods and heads off. A few minutes later, he’s back and looks a bit frustrated.
Patient: “You could at least have had some magazines or something! I had to load up some stuff on my phone to finish!”
I am confused for a moment, but then it dawns on me.
Me: “Sir, we needed a urine sample.”
The patient’s brain takes longer than it should to process the information I have just provided.
Patient: “You might not want to use what I just… ah… deposited.”
He came back a few hours later after drinking some water. I found the first sample and… disposed of it.
