A Sudden Jab Of Terror

, , , , , | Healthy | April 29, 2021

When I was around five or six, I was at the doctor’s office for a checkup. I knew I would be receiving an injection, and I was terrified of needles. My mother stepped outside of the room with the doctor while we waited for the nurse to come by with the shot.

There was a slight knock on the door and a nurse popped her head in.

Nurse: “Hi! I just need to grab something real quick.”

And she proceeded to pull out the biggest needle I’d ever seen in my short life! I screamed bloody murder.

My mother and the doctor came running back into the room to find the nurse frantically trying to calm me down, but I refused to even let her touch me. The nurse showed the doctor the needle.

Nurse: “I didn’t mean to scare anyone! I feel horrible.”

After the nurse left, my doctor sat down with me.

Doctor: “That needle is meant for more difficult patients and it does hurt, but you are getting the regular-sized needle that hurts much less.”

I later learned the nurse’s needle was for bone marrow aspiration. I received my injection with no complaint.

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If You’ve Got Urine There, You’ve Got Bigger Problems

, , , , , , , | Healthy | April 25, 2021

I’ve been diagnosed with a urinary tract infection, so I am taking an antibiotic as well as pills to lessen the discomfort when urinating. I carefully read every word on the package.

This particular medication turns your urine bright orange which, the package sweetly says, will permanently stain clothes, washcloths, rugs, wood floors, and… contact lenses!

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Mummy’s Always There For You… If You Send A Text

, , , , , , , | Related | April 24, 2021

I’m a doctor at a private practice, looking over a young woman who made an appointment this morning because she doesn’t feel well. Unfortunately, due to other circumstances, we’re actually running quite late today, so she’s been waiting for more than an hour. In that time, her symptoms have progressed enough that I’m confident she needs an intravenous antibacterial, rather than waiting for the few days it’ll take for oral medicine to work.

That means that she needs to go to the hospital’s emergency wait room. That’s an instruction that’s terrifying under any circumstance, and in this case, while she’s still lucid; her symptoms have progressed enough that I’ve been able to observe her having more and more trouble focusing through our appointment.

Me: “You can drive yourself to the hospital, but I really think it would be better to have someone with you. Do you want me to explain all that to your parents or a partner, as well? You can call them if you like.”

Patient: “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

She gets out her mobile phone and calls. After a minute, I hear the tell-tale voice of an automatic answering machine.

Patient: “Mum, Mum, it’s [Patient]. Pick up the phone. Pick up the phone. I know you’re listening. I know you’re home today, and I know you always just let the phone go to voicemail, but this is important.” *Pause* “All right, fine. Mum, the doctor is sending me to the hospital emergency room. I bet now you feel guilty.”

She did successfully call her father after that.

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Put Your Foot In Your Mouth And We’ll Never Touch It Again

, , , , | Healthy | CREDIT: SubjectDelta28 | April 13, 2021

I work at a podiatrist’s office as an X-ray tech. Most of our patients are elderly and are near and dear to my heart — the kind of people who are like second grandparents to you whose feet you happen to be very acquainted with. Then there’s patients like this woman.

[Patient] is that kind of woman who’s sickly sweet to your face and then complains to your superiors like you killed her puppy. We dread looking at the schedule to see her name on the daily patient appointment list. Some of my coworkers have flat-out REFUSED to take her back to a patient room and get vital signs, prep her room, etc. Everyone at my office has a [Patient] story. It’s practically a rite of passage.

She has been coming to our office for about three years. In my own personal experience with her, she acts kind to my face but slightly entitled. She once complained to my doctor about something I did, and to be honest, it was so mundane that neither I nor the doctor she complained to — who owns our practice — took it seriously. The doctor told the patient she’d speak to me about it and told me, “Oh, [Patient] complained about you, [My Name], but she complains about everyone.”

When she didn’t get the proper reaction that she expected from the doctor, she then tried to call a day or so later and speak to our office manager. My coworker picked up the phone and spoke to her. She had the NERVE to say, “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, but I think it needs to be addressed.” Lady, you went out of your way TWICE to complain about me. You wanted me to get in trouble.

On to the main event: [Patient] FINALLY gets her comeuppance.

I am on maternity leave when this happens, so this is second-hand from my coworker.

[Patient] comes into the office in apparently a very foul mood — more so than usual, anyway. One of our nurses calls [Patient] back to a room three minutes after her scheduled appointment time. [Patient] proceeds to contradict all of the nurse’s questions and information out of spite.

For example:

Nurse #1: “[Patient], your blood pressure is 142/90.”

Patient: “That’s not right. My blood pressure is usually 140/80.”

[Nurse #1] is an older woman and is over the years of [Patient]’s bulls***, so she merely says:

Nurse #1: “Okay then.”

Then, when the doctor comes in, [Patient] starts making demands.

Patient: “You have to give me an injection! My feet hurt and you’re going to fix it now.”

The doctor’s policy is that these injections, which can help with certain types of foot pain, are a once-in-every-three-months deal, and if something stronger is needed, they’ll look at physical therapy, so they don’t just throw pain pills at you. [Patient] had her injection about one week ago and has constantly refused physical therapy despite having no valid or medical reason to not go. She is very lazy and just wants a solution NOW; she doesn’t want to correct things in her life that would easily stop the problem for good, instead of temporarily.

Then, [Patient] demands new diabetic shoes. Normally, we do offer this service with [Nurse #2], who is the only one with the certification to take the measurements for these shoes. However, [Patient] burned that bridge a long time ago because she repeatedly treated [Nurse #2] like garbage and called her a b****. [Nurse #2] refused to measure her ever again long ago.

Knowing this, the doctor tells [Patient] that she will send orders for new diabetic shoes to another company we work with. But [Patient] doesn’t WANT shoes from them. She wants them from US. The doctor doesn’t want to throw [Nurse #2] under the bus, so she simply tells her that we’re not offering diabetic shoes from our office at this time. [Patient] keeps getting angrier but has no choice but to accept defeat.

She goes to our receptionist’s window and pays with a credit card.

Receptionist: “Would you like your receipt?”

Patient: “Ugh, no! Why would I want that?”

She then proceeds to stomp on out to her car. Three minutes later, she calls our receptionist from the parking lot.

Patient: *Angry* “You need to print me off a receipt for our transaction today! Why wasn’t I given one?!”

Receptionist: “Ma’am, I offered it to you before you left. I can send it to you in the mail or you can pick it up from our office at your convenience.”

Patient: “You did not offer me my receipt! I’m in the parking lot; you need to bring it out to me now!”

Receptionist: “Ma’am, you can come back inside and get it or I can send it to you in the mail. I can’t leave my desk as I’m the only receptionist in the office today.”

Patient: “You have to bring it out to me now! My legs hurt and I can’t walk in there!”

This is crap; she just walked out of the building just fine and had no leg injuries.

Then, [Patient] just starts yelling about how she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this and how someone needs to bring her the receipt NOW, and so on. It’s so loud that [Nurse #2] can hear [Patient] yelling on the phone from several feet away.

Nurse #2: “Is that [Patient]?”

Receptionist: “It is.”

Nurse #2: “Give me the phone; I’ll handle this.” *Into the phone* “Hello, this is [Nurse #2]. How can I help you?”

Patient: *Yelling* “You need to bring me my receipt now. My legs hurt and you need to bring it now! I should have been offered it in the first place when I checked out! This is ridiculous. You’re all incompetent! Bring it to me now!

Nurse #2: “Ma’am, your legs seemed to be working just fine when you walked out of the office. Now, you can either come in and get your paper yourself or we can mail it to you.”

[Patient] starts yelling incoherently, repeatedly calling [Nurse #2] a b****, etc.

Nurse #2: “You have a nice day ma’am.” *Hangs up*

[Nurse #2] told me how great it felt to just call [Patient] out on her bulls*** and it was so satisfying to hear about. But it gets BETTER! Apparently, the doctor that was working that day had overheard [Patient] yelling on the phone and was NOT having the way [Patient] treated the entire staff. She told our other doctor — the one that owns the practice — and they agreed that they would dismiss her from the practice.

The rest of my workdays are looking a lot more [Patient]-less every day I go in.

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Seven And A Half, Apparently

, , , , | Healthy | April 1, 2021

I work for a dermatology office that is temporarily renting an office inside a cardiology company, and we even share a waiting room with one of their doctors. I’m used to their patients coming to my window, but most notice the signs around the window that notify everyone we are a dermatology office. I’m still baffled how this lady didn’t get the clue.

She comes up and taps on the glass, right on the sign that says, “Please Do Not Tap On Glass.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Lady: “I don’t understand some of this wording.”

She places a clipboard with cardiology new patient forms on it in front of me. 

Me: “Oh, I don’t—”

Lady: “What’s a triple bypass?”

Me: “You should probably—”

Lady: “Do I need to mark any surgeries, too? I haven’t had any. What do I mark here?”

Me: “I don’t know. I work for the derm—”

Lady: “How many of these do I need to mark here?”

Me: “I don’t know. This is—”

Lady: “And what is hypertension?”

Me: “High blood pressure. And this is the wrong office.”

Lady: “How do I know if I have high blood pressure?”

Me: “I think you need to ask the other window over there.”

Lady: “What’s a PCP?”

Me: *Sighs* “I don’t know.”

I do but I’m tired of being ignored.

Lady: “What about tachybradia?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

Lady: “How do I find out if I had a tachybradia?”

Me: “I don’t know. This is [Doctor’s] office. Not cardiology.”

Lady: “Am I going to get a stress test today?”

Me: “I don’t know. This isn’t cardiology.”

Lady: “If I get a stress test, do I need my husband to do anything for me?”

Me: “I don’t know. This isn’t cardiology.”

Lady: “Why don’t you know anything?”

Me: “Because this isn’t the cardiology office.”

I point to the specialty sign for our office right in front of her. 

Lady: “Oh. I need to use the restroom. Let me in.”

Me: “Sure. Go to the second door and I’ll let you through.”

She walks over to the actual cardiology window instead so they can buzz her through. Since she forgot her paperwork, I carry it over to their window and explain that she has some questions.

Cardiology: “Yeah, we heard her from over here. You had more patience than we would have. How many times did she need to hear, ‘I don’t know,’ before she got a clue?”

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