(My immunization records for college are incomplete, so I need to get a couple of shots. I hate needles, but I can distract myself from the pain by chatting with the nurse. However, some shots are just more painful than others, and for this particular one I swear and go pale.)

Nurse: “All right, you’re all set! Are you feeling okay?”

Me: *sigh* “Yeah, I’m fine.”

(I pause.)

Me: “I mean…” *fake childish voice* “Wah! It hurts! I want a lolly!”

(I laugh. The nurse arches a brow.)

Nurse: “Do you actually want a lollipop? We’ve got some.”

Me: “What?! YES!”

(The nurse left and came back a minute later with a small bucket of lollipops. I picked a blue raspberry pop and proceeded to text several friends to brag about it.)

(I go into labor with my son. My mother-in-law drives me to the hospital and they admit me right away as I am dilated enough that the birthing process can begin. I should note that the pregnancy has not been the best as I was a super sick one and had additional complications that necessitated ultrasounds — the invasive kind — every week after the first three months of pregnancy. I already decided long before we had our child that this would be my first and last child, as I have four stepkids, all of whom fulfill my life. Skip ahead to the labor. I ask for an epidural as my pain tolerance is low. The epidural has to be administered three times due to an unknown condition with scoliosis. The first time, nothing happens but lots of pain. The second time, only a portion of my body is numb but not the parts I need. Finally, the third time, it is bliss. I no longer feel pain, only enough pressure to get through the task. Everything goes smoothly from there. Then, I ask to be put back on the depo shot as I do not want to ever get pregnant again. I joke that I would get a hysterectomy if I could.)

Nurse #1: “Oh, honey, don’t worry. Let’s give you some time to let the pain meds wear off and think about birth control later. You are just scared because of your recent pregnancy.”

Me: “No, thank you. Can you please put me on the shot ASAP? It’s not because I disliked the experience; this was a decision made long before I became pregnant. I only want one child, as I am happy with our home dynamics as they are.”

(The next day, I ask another nurse for the depo shot.)

Nurse #2: “Okay, I’ll look into it.” 

(Nothing ever happens. The next day, with another nurse…)

Me: “Hi. The pain medicine has worn off, which I know was a concern for the first nurse, and I would like to receive my depo shot now, while I am still admitted in the hospital.”

Nurse #3: “Okay, I will look into it and see what we can do, but you are still very emotional from just having a child. Maybe give it a while before you decide to go back on birth control.”

Me: “Thank you, but I am certain I do not want to have any more children, and it’s not because of the labor experience I had.”

(Quite a time has passed, and I realize they are not looking into it for me. My final and last day in the hospital, I ask yet another nurse who is still skeptical, but finally, I get the shot and am happy to leave. Fast forward to my regular gynecologist appointment. The nurse asks me to take a pregnancy test and I say I will, but there is no need as my spouse has gotten a vasectomy. Only then do I realize she is one of the nurses from my time in the hospital; my gynecologist office is a part of the hospital that specializes in complications so for some things, the staff is the same.)

Nurse #3: “Oh, I thought you were kidding about not having any more kids.”

Me: “No, I wasn’t, and since it is easier for men to get a vasectomy… that’s what we did. The depo shot now is to keep my endometriosis under control and a backup in case the vasectomy ever reverses itself.”

(Needless to say, I stopped using them as my doctor’s office and found a different one.)

(I am a female. I wake up one morning and feel the indications of a flare-up of my Bell’s Palsy. When I get into work, I decide to call my doctor’s office to see if I can get in today to be checked out. They are able to squeeze in an appointment this morning for me. I arrive at the clinic well before my appointment time and find the waiting room quite busy. Knowing I am fortunate to even get an appointment this morning, I settle into a chair and wait to be called back to the exam rooms. Nearly an hour later, I am called back by the nurse. As she leads me to the exam room, we stop off at the scale to get weight and temperature. As I step off the scale, disappointed at the number, the nurse leads me on to the exam room and says to me:)

Nurse: “Sorry about your wait.”

Me: “Umm, yeah. Me, too.” 

(My mind, still on the scale results, thinks she meant “weight” and now I’m wondering if I should be offended. Had she said, “Sorry about THE wait,” I probably would not be so confused.)

Me: *finally realizing what she meant* “Oh, you meant the waiting room.”

Nurse: “Yes! I would never…”

(The vaccine for tuberculosis is called BCG and it’s given to newborn infants in many countries. It leaves a small scar that proves you have been vaccinated. In Malaysia, it is administered on the left shoulder. Up until the ’90s, kids used to get a booster shot in year six of primary school, around age 11 or 12. Since it’s reputed to be a rather painful jab, my entire class is already quite apprehensive when we’re lined up in front of the school nurse, and then this happens:)

Nurse: “Where’s your original BCG scar?”

Me: “It’s on my backside.”

Nurse: “What do you mean? How come you don’t have it on your shoulder?”

Me: “I was born in Singapore! In Singapore, they jab babies on the backside!”

Nurse: “I have to check.”

Me: “Can’t I just phone my parents and have them talk to you?”

(After arguing with her for a few minutes, I was so scared that I would have to lift my skirt and show the nurse my buttocks that when she finally gave in and just gave me the jab, the pain was actually a relief.)

(I am scheduled for a tonsillectomy in the afternoon. My mother gets a call in the morning.)

Nurse: “Is [My Name] all ready for her big surgery?”

Mother: “I guess so; I haven’t heard from her today.”

Nurse: “She hasn’t eaten in the past twelve hours, has she?”

Mother: “I wouldn’t know.”

Nurse: “You should know. She may not be able to have surgery if she ate; it’s too dangerous!”

Mother: “Given that she’s a twenty-seven-year-old woman, why don’t you call her mobile and ask her whether she ate?”

Nurse: *embarrassed silence*

(Most people having this surgery are children, and it’s protocol to call their parents and confirm the surgery. Why they didn’t check the age of the patient before calling my emergency contact is beyond me! It was funny at the time but also a breach of my privacy.)