I am newly eighteen, so at my doctor’s office, I have to fill out new paperwork — confidentiality and whatever they make you do. I’m a short, very light-skinned girl with bright blonde hair which is naturally dark brown but I dye it. My mother is from Cuba and her father is from Spain, so I am 50% Latina and Hispanic. I definitely don’t look it, which isn’t normally a problem. It’s more like a fun trivia tidbit about me.

On one of the papers I am filling out, it asks if I am Hispanic/Latina. I check yes, because I am. I give the nurse the paperwork and wait in the room for a doctor. I can hear some nurses outside the door in the office area talking rather loudly.

Nurse #1: “She’s got blonde hair and blue eyes — perfect Aryan. I think she checked the wrong box.”

Nurse #2: “Change it for her. Obviously, she got it wrong.”

Nurse #1: “Maybe she’s trying to scam us. One of those people begging to be oppressed.”

For the record, I have deep brown eyes, not blue. But I’m very upset about the conversation I’m hearing. My ethnicity is not for them to decide or discuss, and my patient records are supposed to be confidential, not talked about in front of or to anyone.

The nurse comes back in and hands me the clipboard.

Nurse #1: “I think you marked that wrong — the Hispanic/Latina question.”

Me: “Uh, I am both Hispanic and Latina. I’m Cuban and Spanish.”

Nurse #1: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Are you sure you should be gossiping about your patients’ medical files to other nurses and whoever else can hear right in front of the door?”

She left without another word. I’ve considered switching from that office for a while, but I don’t go enough for it to be a huge problem. I’m still bothered by this incident, though.

I was admitted to the hospital for a life-threatening illness. The doctors were amazing and saved my life. Because my recovery was critical, I was put in a private room and monitored closely by the nurses. Of course, my room had a sink in the bathroom, and in addition, it also had a sink close to my bed to serve the nurses and the constant bandage changes, etc. All the drugs and antibiotics they were giving made me nauseous all the time. The nurses were also great; if I had to go to the bathroom or throw up, they would help me to the bathroom and stay with me if needed.

One day, I was feeling pretty good, and then suddenly, I had to throw up. No warning, it just came rushing up my throat into my mouth. I clamped my mouth shut, slipped painfully out of bed, stumbled two feet, and grabbed the edge of that sink and up it all came. The nurse came and helped me, cleaned me up, and put me back in bed.

She called one of the nurse’s aides and asked her to clean up the sink. As I lay back down in bed and the nurse left, the nurse’s aide began scolding me for making a mess in the sink. What did she want me to do? Just lean over and blow chunks on the floor? Because that’s easier — mopping and cleaning the floor. If cleaning a mess in a sink is your limit, then you need to find a whole other career real fast!

My friend has recently given birth to her daughter and is at the doctor’s office for the baby’s one-week checkup. She obviously hasn’t had her stomach “bounce” back yet. The nurse comes in and takes one look at her belly.

Nurse: “How are you already pregnant again! Didn’t you just give birth?!”

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¡Que Embarazada!

I’m with my baby at the emergency room.

Nurse: “Would you like anything to drink?”

Me: “Yes, please. I would like a hot chocolate.”

A bit later, the nurse returns with a large cup and hands it to me. 

Nurse: “Here! I brought you a fresh strawberry mango smoothie. Much better than that sewer drink.”

Me: “Oh, uh, thank you, but no, thank you. I—”

Nurse: “Nonsense! This is good for you with lots of vitamins. The doctor will be here soon. Tataaa!”

And she left the room. I’m allergic to fruit.

I have an allergy to the preservative in most vaccines and have a heart condition that makes the use of an epi-pen unsafe without direct medical observation afterward. Therefore, I’m unable to be vaccinated without being hospitalized to monitor my heart for up to a week after. Because of this, I do not get the flu vaccine ever.

I’m at the six-week follow-up after giving birth.

Nurse: “Will we be getting the flu shot today, as well?”

Me: “No, I don’t get vaccinations for medical reasons.”

Nurse: “But don’t you want to protect your baby? You know if you don’t get it he’ll have to get one.”

Me: “No. As I already said, I am not interested in the flu shot for medical reasons, and his pediatrician is fine with him not getting it, either, since everyone else he will be exposed to, other than me, will have their flu shot.”

Nurse: “Just because you’re afraid of needles, it doesn’t mean you can’t get it. They have a nose spray now, you know.”

The nurse continues to try to convince me to get the shot for another ten minutes by guilt-tripping me about endangering my baby and being a bad person for not getting it for “frivolous” reasons. Then, my OB comes in and shoos her away. After speaking with her, she sends the nurse back in to give me a birth control shot and a shot of an antihistamine just in case I have an allergic reaction to the preservative in the birth control. I turn around and pull my pants down for the shot and feel two sticks, only to hear:

Nurse: “See? That wasn’t so bad! You got your birth control and the flu shot in one go!”

Me: “DID YOU EVEN READ MY CHART?! I’M ALLERGIC TO THE PRESERVATIVE IN THE FLU SHOT! IT COULD KILL ME!”

The nurse didn’t even look like she cared. She just walked out, leaving me sobbing and trying to stay calm so I could get an epi shot before I stopped being able to breathe.

Thankfully, my OB was able to give me an epi shot within a few minutes of the flu shot, but I still spent a week in the hospital afterward. The good news is that the nurse lost her licenses and faced criminal charges.

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