(I am a family doctor. A man in his thirties books an appointment because he has felt so extremely tired the last three years. It turns out he has got a job that requires a thorough physical test every year, and he just recently passed one of them, so I am a bit confused about the situation with the extreme tiredness that has lasted so long. I order some standard blood tests just to be sure and continue my conversation with the man.)

Me: “And how does your family situation look?”

Patient: “Well, I got a wife and two kids.”

Me: “All right, and how old are the kids?”

Patient: “Two and three years old.”

(The diagnosis turned out to be parenthood.)

(Ophthalmologist’s offices in Germany have a rotating system of which office has to stay open for emergencies on the weekends. Today, it’s our office’s turn and I’m manning the front desk. A couple comes in with their five-year-old daughter. She has a very red eye and says it hurts a lot. I take their info and ask how long she’s had those symptoms.)

Mother: “I think since this afternoon — a couple of hours, maybe.”

Me: “Okay. Did something happen? Did she get something in her eye?”

Mother: “I don’t think so; I was watching her all the time.”

(The mother looks a little annoyed at my questioning and the father just nods, apathetic. I give some numbing eye drops to the girl to ease the pain and send her right to the doctor. My coworker follows in, only to come back out some minutes later looking rather angry.)

Coworker: “Guess what? This girl has a metal splinter burnt into her cornea.”

Me: “She has what?”

Coworker: “Yes, her father let her watch him using the angle grinder without safety goggles.”

Me: “And he didn’t think that might be kind of… dangerous?”

Coworker: “Apparently not. I’m getting the instruments to get the splinter out.”

(My coworker goes back in to the doctor and they start trying to get the metal out. After a while, the couple and the girl storm past me out of the door, the mother looking angry, the girl rather relieved with a patch on her eye, and the father pouting. My coworker and the doctor come out right behind, looking exhausted.)

Coworker: “WOOOOOW!”

Me: “What happened?”

Doctor: “The girl was wriggling all. The. Time. [Coworker] couldn’t hold her by herself, so I asked the mother to hold the girl, too. When I was just about to pick the splinter out, the mother let her wiggling daughter go and said, ‘Oh, no, I almost got a cramp in my hand,’ and I was thinking, ‘Oh, no, I almost impaled your daughter’s eye, but good for you that you didn’t get a cramp!’”

Me: “What caring parents this girl has…”

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(I’ve been suffering from chronic pain and fatigue for years, and my GP refers me to a rheumatologist following some concerning test results. I’m in my mid-twenties and walking with a limp.)

Doctor: “You were referred to me because of your test results, but this test often shows false positives. You probably have nothing to worry about. I’ll order you a new series of blood tests. Now, you indicated that you’re in pain. Where does it hurt the most?”

Me: “It varies; some days it hurts–”

Doctor: *interrupting* “Where does it hurt the most right now?”

Me: “Um… here.” *point at my leg* “But the pain moves around. Sometimes it hurts my jaw, my neck, my shoulders… As I wrote on the forms, it’s sort of all over. It makes it difficult to exercise, to cook, or even to write.”

Doctor: *looking at my leg* “It’s probably just a pinched nerve.” *glancing down* “You indicated that you have psoriasis. Is that it?”

(She leans forward without warning and pokes at a patch of dry skin on my leg.)

Doctor: “Does that hurt? It looks bad.”

Me: “Um… No. It itches sometimes, but it’s pretty mild.”

Doctor: “It doesn’t look like psoriasis. When were you diagnosed?”

Me: “When I was a kid, maybe ten or so?”

Doctor: “And what did your dermatologist say at the time?”

Me: “Um… I was ten, so… I don’t really…?”

Doctor: “You should see your dermatologist. And a neurologist for your back pain. I see here that you’re trying a gluten-free diet? That should help with the pain, and your weight, too.”

Me: “I’m not… What?” *confused* “I’m not ‘trying’ a gluten-free diet. I’m gluten-intolerant. I’ve been gluten-free for over a year.”

Doctor: “Right, it should help. Your pain should decrease, and you should start losing weight.”

Me: *frustrated* “As I said, I stopped eating gluten a year ago. It did help. A lot of my fatigue and stomach issues went away. But if it was going to help with the pain, I think it would have done it by now.”

Doctor: “Well, I think you’ll start to see the benefits soon. Anyway, go to our lab. I’m sure we’ll find that you have nothing to worry about.”

(I was diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis, an autoimmune disease related to psoriasis. I decided to transfer to a different doctor. I requested a copy of my records to send over, and what I read there only strengthened my decision, since her only notes from that appointment said that I was experiencing minor pain and that I should go on a low-carb diet.)

(My wife has been under the weather for a while. They send her home early from work one day, so I take her to our favourite urgent care clinic. They did really well when she had pneumonia last spring, so we have no reason to doubt their abilities this year. But… the nurse is inattentive. She walks in, sits down, doesn’t look up from her laptop while taking history, and then flees as soon as she can. In meanders the “doctor,” a nurse practitioner. I’m sure there are good ones out there, but I’ve yet to meet a truly competent one. He checks her ears, throat, and breathing, all from the outside. I don’t recall him actually looking in her mouth once. We tell him she’s sneezing blood, vomiting mucus, and having intense sinus pressure.)

Practitioner: “Sounds like an asthma flare-up to me.”

Me: *incredulous* “Asthma attacks cause sinus pressure, pain, and vomiting?!”

Practitioner: “Okay, with a minor sinus infection.”

Me: “Really?!”

Practitioner: “We’ll send over an antibiotic and a steroid and give her a shot.”

Me: “For asthma?”

(He is dismissive of my concerns and leaves. One week later, my throat is swollen and sore and I can barely speak. My wife, feeling a little better than me, calls the clinic.)

Wife: “I was in last week and saw your nurse practitioner. He said I was just having an asthma flare-up, but now my wife has it! I didn’t know asthma was contagious.” *pause* “He’s an idiot and you should screen your people better.” *pause* “No. Screen your people. Make sure they know what they’re talking about when they see someone.” *click*

(I typically never get ill, but when I do catch a bad cold, I tend to get pink eye, an ear infection, and a sinus infection all at once. This happens between Christmas and New Year’s about ten years ago. I’m miserable and decide I need to see a doctor to get some antibiotics. I go to my local health center, but since it is holiday time, my normal doctor is not there. Instead, a temp doctor sees me. At the time I am very overweight.)

Doctor: “You know, you could benefit from losing a few kilos!”

(As if I didn’t know!)

Me: “Okay, but what about my cold?”

Doctor: *while listening to my lungs* “You have really light skin and a lot of birthmarks. Make sure you use sunscreen!”

Me: “Okay, but do I need antibiotics?”

Doctor: “Mmm, but we should only take antibiotics if it is absolutely unavoidable. I’ll give you a prescription, but don’t use it unless you don’t get better in a few days!”

Me: “Fair enough!”

Doctor: *looking through his big book of drugs* “So, how many pills do you need?”

(Yeah, he is serious. He asks me what the dosage is. Then, he calculates from my weight that I should have 21 pills per day! When I protest, he becomes irritated and snarky and gives me the largest dosage in the book.)

Doctor: “Are you happy now? “

(Eh, yeah. Sure! I just left as soon as I could. A few days later, I needed those pills, as I wasn’t getting better. When I spoke to the pharmacy, they were horrified to hear about the 21-pill dosage. They said that they would never, EVER have given me that much. Later, I returned to my regular doctor for a follow-up, and he was just as horrified. He also told me that the dosage I did get was what they give to bad cases of pneumonia. So, yeah, I was cured, but my doctor said that they would never use that doctor again.)