I work as a registered nurse in a county mental health clinic, and that has its own brand of nonsense.

I’m taking a phone call.

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name]. Can I help you?”

Patient: “I need my [prescription] called in early. I’m going to California because my dad died, and the pharmacist says I need an override from you to get it filled.”

Me: “Sorry to hear your dad died. All I can really do is call in the prescription for you, but it’s up to your insurance as to whether they’ll pay early or not. What’s your name?”

Patient: “Just call it in! G**d***!”

Me: “You have to give me your name; otherwise, I can’t do anything.”

Patient: “I’m not giving you my name! Just call in a prescription for [medication] and have it ready!”

Me: “No name, no prescription, sir. We legally cannot give out pills without a name and an account to attach it to.”

Patient: “I don’t care what you have to do; just make it happen. My dad is dead!“

The patient huffs loudly, and then I hear a male voice in the background saying, “Shut UP!”

I’m starting to get suspicious.

Me: “Hey! This story sounds familiar… Are you [Patient]? Because if you are, you must have more than one dad because you called with this same story about six months ago! And two more times before that! How many dads do you have? And if you are [Patient], there’s no way I’m calling it in early for you.”

Patient: “F*** YOU, B****!” *Click*

I just laughed and went back to charting. Sometimes you get those people who want extra meds but only have one go-to scam. Too bad he wouldn’t give me his name, or I could have added a note to his chart about having his fourth dad die.

I ordered lunch from a new restaurant I wanted to try out. It was good, but something must have been in it that caused an allergic reaction. It’s nothing severe; I’m not breaking out in hives or going into anaphylactic shock. It just feels like some tightness in my throat, but I have no trouble breathing, so in my opinion, it doesn’t warrant a visit to the doctor or emergency room — or worse, an ambulance being called. Nevertheless, I don’t want to risk it getting worse, so I go out to the nearest pharmacy. 

Clerk: “What can I do for you?”

Me: “I think I’m having an allergic reaction to something in my lunch. It’s nothing severe, but I feel some tightness in my throat. Do you carry anything I can take to counter that?”

Clerk: “Oh, my! Oh!”

She runs away and leaves me standing at the counter, confused. After some minutes, she returns without explanation.

Clerk: “You can take [medication #1]. I’ll give you the syrup version.”

Me: “I took a [medication #1] pill this morning for hay fever. Is that okay, or might that be too much?”

Clerk: “No, that’s too much. There’s nothing else I can give you without doctor’s orders, then.”

I blink in confusion because I know there are at least six different over-the-counter medications for allergies available, even though I’m not a medical professional.

Me: “What about [medication #2]? I think my dad took them for his allergy.”

The clerk taps away on her computer.

Clerk: “Hm… Yes, I think I can give you that. Do you want to purchase it?”

I did end up buying the [medication #2] but left the pharmacy with a sliver of doubt. For the record, the medication did work, and I got my allergies checked out — it’s mango — but I’m not entirely sure I’ll be using that particular pharmacy again. If they don’t even know there’s more than one type of over-the-counter allergy medication, could I really trust their knowledge in even more serious matters?

Upselling really isn’t a thing here in Sweden. Or at least, it hasn’t been. I was hit by the Upselling Frenzy From Hell a couple of days ago and still wonder what got into the pharmacist.

I had just checked out after a few rather strenuous days in the hospital (after four days of being completely zonked out at home), with my soap-washed hair in a tussle and dressed in a nightgown. I looked and felt really poorly, but I had to get my latest round of antibiotics before heading home. The last bus going directly home was leaving in less than thirty minutes.

When it was finally my turn, the pharmacist quickly got the antibiotics. I had finished my last round of antibiotics sixteen days prior. It was the same brand and same dosage — and yup, same illness, just with the flu added for some extra fun the second time around.

Then, she went off.

Pharmacist: “Do you know how to take this?”

Me: “Yes, I finished the last round two weeks ago. Same brand, same dosage.”

Pharmacist: “You have to [long winding description].”

Me: “Okay. Can I pay, please?”

Pharmacist: “Don’t you need [Product #1]?”

Me: “No. Just the antibiotics. Can I pay, please?”

Pharmacist: “But you must need [Product #2]!”

Me: “No. Just the antibiotics. Please let me pay.”

Pharmacist: “Oh, but [Product #3]—”

Me: “NO, I WANT TO GO HOME. LET ME PAY. PLEASE!”

Pharmacist: “But look at your list of prescriptions! Surely you need [Prescription #1]?”

Me: “No. Let me pay.”

Pharmacist: “[Prescription #2] — you absolutely need that one, right?”

Me: “Got it five days ago. Let me pay.”

Pharmacist: “Oh, but [Prescription #3]— ”

Me: “I NEED TO CATCH THE BUS. PLEASE LET ME PAY BEFORE I PASS OUT!”

Pharmacist: “Sheesh. What a grumpy b****.”

When I put the antibiotics in my brand-new backpack, the zipper broke. But I did manage to catch the bus with a minute to spare, and I was the only passenger, so the driver treated me like a queen.

I have a degenerative autoimmune condition that causes a lot of pain. As a result, I don’t always notice injuries the way most would; I have walked on multiple fractures until unrelated scans found them. Long story short, I’ve got a pretty high pain tolerance. Despite this, I am often accused of being drug-seeking because I visit a lot of doctors and had a string of emergency room visits on record pre-diagnosis. 

I am about to have an operation to repair a badly damaged ankle. I am gowned and about to be wheeled into the operating room.

Doctor: “Okay, what pain medication do you want? Where am I sending this?”

Me: “Oh, it’s okay. I don’t want anything.”

I am planning to control my pain with over-the-counter medication and a certain plant that is legal in my state. This has always worked better for me.

Doctor: “Just tell me what pain medication you want so we can get on with this.”

Me: “I’m really okay. I’ll be fine with what I have at home.”

Doctor: *Visibly irritated* “We’re literally breaking your leg today. You need pain medication.”

I’m trying to be polite, but I’m getting annoyed.

Me: “No, I don’t, thank you. I don’t want narcotics. I don’t like the way they make me feel, they don’t really work for me, and I don’t want to be flagged as drug-seeking again.”

The doctor is clearly not listening at this point.

Doctor: “I’m putting you down for Percocet. We’ll get your pharmacy from your file.”

With that, she flounced off. The medication was filled. Initially, I just left it, but when I sent a friend to pick up an unrelated medication, she ended up grabbing it, as well. I took exactly one pill, which did nothing except hit me with side effects, and I flushed the rest. I was able to control my pain via my usual methods and am currently doing fantastic with my rebuilt ankle. 

Listen to your patients, doctors. You know more than we do about medical science, but we’re living in our own bodies, and sometimes we do know what’s best for us.

I work in a factory with several coworkers. One day, I notice that one of them is very quiet and seems a bit down, so I ask him what’s the matter and he tells his story.

For some reason, he has trouble falling asleep, and he has had countless nights with hardly any sleep. One of his friends told him to get some sleeping pills, so [Coworker] searched the Internet and found an online pharmacy that sold 100 sleeping pills for 183 Euros. He ordered them but received an email the next day that he also had to pay 425 Euros for import duty tax.

[Coworker] paid the “import duty tax” but never received the drugs. Trying to contact the pharmacy was impossible; they never answered his emails, and the telephone number on their website was a fake number. He had been scammed.

Me: “Why didn’t you go to your regular doctor to get a prescription and get the drug legally?”

Coworker: “I don’t believe in doctors and their medicines.”

Me: “If you had believed in doctors, you would’ve gotten your drugs for free instead of being scammed for over 600 Euros. Even the doctor visit would’ve been without any cost to you.”

He wouldn’t have even had to take unpaid time off because, in the Netherlands, your boss pays you for the time you visit a doctor if you have no other option than to visit them during working hours.

It took six other coworkers to convince him that visiting a doctor is much better, safer, and cheaper than ordering drugs on the Internet.

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