(During an annual summer trip to California, I start having abdominal pains. My dad brings me to a local clinic, and from there I get directed to the ER because of possible appendicitis. Once there, they hook me up to an IV. I’m a little paranoid around needles, so I ask them what exactly they’re putting in the IV. I also happen to have a fear of inebriation, as well as a fear of being forcibly injected with addictive drugs.)

Nurse: “Saline fluids and some morphine.”

Me: “Morphine? Why morphine?”

Nurse: “You said you were in pain.”

Me: “I am, but I don’t think it’s extreme enough to justify morphine!”

Nurse: “Okay, we can take the morphine out. You’re sure you don’t need any painkillers?”

Me: “I mean, some painkillers would be nice, but not something that extreme.”

Nurse: “Well, we can give you the morphine if you want.”

Me: “No morphine!”

Nurse: “So, you don’t need painkillers?”

(This conversation repeats a few times before I eventually tell her I don’t need painkillers and let her hook me up to the saline fluids. Some time passes, and eventually, another nurse comes to check on me.)

Nurse #2: “And have you had any painkillers?”

Me: “Well, they kept offering me morphine, but I didn’t want that. It seems a little extreme.”

Nurse #2: “Wait, so, no one offered you any Tylenol?”

Me: “No!”

(The second nurse brought me some Tylenol, and that did seem to help, but I will forever be confused about the first nurse who seemed to think that morphine was the only painkiller in existence.)

(I am 19 years old and I’ve been experiencing intense pain and vomiting bile all night. I go to urgent care and am diagnosed with appendicitis and given pain meds before being transported to the hospital around 11:00 am.)

ER Nurse: “We need to give you an MRI. Take this pregnancy test, and then we can figure out what’s going on.”

Mom: “She has already been diagnosed with appendicitis at urgent care; they called and we are here for treatment.”

ER Nurse: “Well, they can only diagnose, not treat, so we need you to take the tests.”

Mom: “She will not take the tests again. You need to look in your files and find the test results they sent over.”

(I ended up going into surgery at almost 10:00 pm after being in even worse pain all day, with no meds because I wasn’t in a room but in the waiting room. I was released at 9:00 am the next day, went septic that night, and spent another three days in the hospital. We later learned that my appendix had ruptured while I was waiting and they still sent me home.)

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I am a 22-year-old female and have always had problems with my feet, which are completely flat and also wide. I’ve been having intense pain in my left foot for a few years, and not one doctor or specialist I’ve gone to has had an explanation. Finally, I am told by a foot surgeon that I have a deformity in both feet that has caused arthritis and is the reason I am unable to walk properly. I am advised to have two metal screws implanted in my left foot to alleviate the pain and hopefully correct the structure of my foot. I go in for surgery and this happens when I stay overnight after the operation. “Nurse” is my day nurse and “Night Nurse” is the nurse assigned to give me the pain medication during the night.)

Nurse: “I’m going to take your vitals and let you get some rest. Your night nurse will come in to give you the pain medication soon. Can you swallow pills?”

(I tell her I can and expect to have no problems. Boy, am I wrong. Over the course of the night, I am pretty loopy from the anesthesia and all I want to do is sleep. A night nurse comes in to take my vitals again sometime in the night and says someone else will give me pain medication later. This repeats for some time with her and one other nurse until the morning, where I’ve recovered enough to realize I am in intense pain and nobody has given me the pain medication I need. Early the next morning, I am exhausted and crying from the pain when my parents come to see me.)

Mom: “What happened?! Why are you crying?!”

Me: *crying* “I’ve been up almost all night and nobody gave me pain medication!”

Mom & Dad: “WHAT?!”

(They track down a nurse and repeat what I’ve said.)

Nurse: “Um, a night nurse would have given you medication. You’re supposed to take it every three hours.”

Me: “Well, no one gave me anything. They woke me up to take my vitals several times and that was it!”

Nurse: “I’m going to look into this. Let me talk to the other nurses.”

(She leaves for a bit, then comes back with the night nurse who I recognize from last night. They both don’t look happy.)

Night Nurse: “We gave you medication last night. You just don’t remember it.”

Me: “You and some other nurse woke me up to take my vitals and said someone else will give me the medication. If I took the medication, I wouldn’t be in so much pain!”

Nurse: *hands me a pill bottle* “Just to make sure, these are what you’re supposed to take. Have you had these at all?”

Me: “No! I haven’t taken any pills!”

Night Nurse: “Well, did you tell someone that you needed it?”

(My parents and the other nurse just stare at her in disbelief.)

Mom: “Of course she needs it! You’re in charge of making sure she gets the medication on time!”

Night Nurse: *snotty* “She’s a big girl. She has to tell us if she needs it or not!”

(My nurse rushes the night nurse out before the situation escalates. My parents are furious and my nurse is also frustrated. I’m angry, too, of course, but more exhausted, and I just want to go home to recover in peace.)

Nurse: “I am so sorry. I had no idea this happened. There is no excuse for that. You are absolutely right: the night staff is responsible to get you that medication and they should have been keeping an eye on you.”

Me: “Can I just go home? I really don’t want to be here anymore…”

Nurse: “Unfortunately, now that I know you haven’t had any medication, I have to keep you here to catch up on the doses. I can’t send you home until I get this in your system and make sure you’re okay.”

(I was more upset by this, but I knew she had to do her job and didn’t say anything else. Over the next few hours, I was finally given the pain medication and I basically slept all day until she told me I could go home in the evening. Thanks to the night nurse’s negligence, I had to keep taking the medication for an extra few days until the pain got under control. We filed an official complaint against the nurse, but nothing has happened so far.)

(I am 13 when I get into a car accident with my grandmother and sister. I get horrendous back pain and whiplash after a man decides it is a great idea to open his car door onto the road. I can’t bend down, and eventually, my mum takes me to the local walk-in health centre. We wait for over an hour to see someone and eventually we are taken through to see the nurse. She is a young girl but seems to know what she is doing, so when she asks me to take a urine test, I don’t know any better and provide one for her. A few minutes later she comes back into the room and speaks to my mum.)

Nurse: “Well, she isn’t pregnant.”

(I just stare at her for a moment, trying to understand what she is saying. I am a 13-year-old girl and don’t honestly know much about sex, never mind being pregnant. My mum’s mouth gapes open for a few seconds, flapping like a fish.)

Mum: “What?! I know she’s not pregnant. She was in a car crash and is suffering from pain in her back.”

(The nurse suddenly comes over in realisation of what she has said.)

Nurse: “I’m so sorry; I didn’t realise how old she was.”

Mum: “What do you mean, you didn’t realise? She’s 13 years old! Oh, my God, I can’t believe you just came to that conclusion with her back pain. I even explained to you what the problem was and you still assumed a young, smart girl like her would be so f****** stupid?!”

(I shrank away as my mum’s voice rose over the sound of the curtains, the nurse practically cowering in the corner, and before long my mum was demanding to see another nurse. I will never forget the look of horror on that woman’s face. I’m 25 now and pretty sure I’m still not pregnant. Back pain is gone, though.)

(I’m a surrogate pregnant with twins. I go to have a regular 20-week checkup with ultrasound. After the ultrasound, I’m surprised to be called in immediately for the doctor exam. They tell me my cervix has started opening and has shrunk; they explain I have to go to the women’s and children’s hospital for a high-risk assessment. I denied the ambulance since it is only a couple blocks away and I am not extremely worried about driving two measly blocks. After I arrive, I am brought to a room and told to get in the gown. Twenty minutes later, the nurse comes in.)

Nurse: “I see here you’re pregnant with twins. Congratulations, Mom!”

Me: “Thanks, but they’re not mine. I’m just the oven.”

Nurse: *obviously ignoring me* “Any surgeries we should know about?”

Me: “Yep, tubal ligation two years ago.”

Nurse: “I’m sorry? You had a what?”

Me: “A tubal ligation — my fallopian tubes were cut so I wouldn’t get pregnant unless it was for someone else.”

Nurse: *laughing* “Obviously, it didn’t take!”

Me: “No, it worked. As I know it says in my chart, I am a surrogate. These babies are not mine, nor will they go home with me.”

Nurse: “You’re a what?!”

Me: “Surrogate.”

Nurse: “But you’re pregnant!”

Me: “Yes, and not with my own DNA. When did you graduate nursing school?”

Nurse: “How are you a pregnant surrogate?”

(Thankfully, the high-risk doctor came in at that time, heard her, and, in words I would use for a toddler, explained how surrogacy works. Sad thing is, she was young enough to know about surrogacy, a fact that made me question her intelligence when she said “Friends” was her favorite show and loved when Phoebe was pregnant.)