I work as a phlebotomist. One day, I get a little hypoglycemic while working, and I grab a Capri-Sun to get some glucose in me.

My hands shaking a little bit, I keep stabbing the pouch with the straw, and the straw keeps not penetrating. Finally, with a grunt, I manage to work it through. I bring the beverage to my mouth only to find a patient staring at me with wide eyes.

Patient: “Uh… Is there someone else — anyone else — who can draw my blood, please?”

Me: “Why?”

Patient: “No offense, but after watching you stab that juice pack seventeen times with the straw, I can’t help but imagine you doing that to my arm.”

Me: “Oh. Okay.”

I fetched someone else to do his arm. It was a very embarrassing event, and I felt bad about it for weeks after. I’ve never since attempted to drink a juice pack while at work.

I work in an orthopedic office, so I see a lot of broken legs and feet, and I do my best to make sure that I’m happy and joking with the patients when I check them out of their appointments. Sometimes the jokes are a little off-kilter, but I figure if I can make a patient laugh when they’re not feeling well, I’m doing okay.

A patient is pushed up to my desk in a wheelchair with his family in attendance.

Me: “How are you?”

Patient: “I’m… I guess I’m doing all right. How about you?”

Me: “Well, I’m not in a wheelchair, so I guess I’m doing great!”

Patient: “Oh, yeah? Are you calling me out?! I tell you what. Give me three weeks to get healed up, and you and I will go a few rounds. We’ll see who’s in the wheelchair then!”

Me: “Ah. I’ll start training today, then.”

The patient laughed, his family laughed, and I laughed. He was a good sport and not at all upset about the fact that he was injured. It was a good interaction.

And then, after he was checked out and ready to leave:

Patient: “Three weeks!”

Me: “I’ll be ready!”

I will not be ready, but I will see him again in three weeks. And I have no doubt that he will be fully capable of putting ME in the wheelchair.

While out and about, I faceplant on some stairs and cut my face badly. After the usual attempts to stop the bleeding, I realize that this is worse than I thought, so my husband and I head to the nearest urgent care clinic for some stitches.

When I see the doctor, he starts to clean and prep the cut.

Doctor: “I’m going to do as few stitches as I can — my thinnest sutures. It’ll barely scar; you won’t even be able to tell!”

Me: “Oh, okay. Great.”

The entire time he works, he reiterates that “it won’t scar” over and over. Around the fifth time, I’m starting to get a little annoyed. I’m sure he sees a lot of people, specifically women, who are anxious about scarring, but I never once expressed any kind of concern about it. I don’t care if I walk out of there looking like the Joker as long as he stops the bleeding and prevents infection.

But I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’s a talker who gets stuck in a loop and doesn’t like to work in silence.

Doctor: “—so, not to worry, you’ll barely notice any scar.”

Me: “Well, if I do have a scar, then it’ll be a badge of honor, right?”

Doctor: *Startled* “But… that’s what we tell the boys!”

I gave up. In his defense, there really was very little scarring.

I need to get nasal surgery for the second time; when I lay down, my nose completely closes. I am in my room, waiting to be taken to the room to be prepped, just watching TV. The nurse comes in.

Nurse: “I’m sorry, but it looks like your surgery will be delayed a half-hour. The doctor is still in the middle of another surgery.”

Me: “Okay, no problem.”

I continue watching TV and send my mum a text to let her know it was delayed since she will be picking me up later. About forty-five minutes later, the nurse returns.

Nurse: “I’m so sorry. Another patient accidentally pulled out their gastronomy tube. It’s the tube that goes from the side directly to the stomach, and it’s an emergency. So… it’ll be a little while longer. Is that all right?”

Me: *Staring in shock* “That’s fine! Life-saving things come first. I know I would want it that way for me if something went wrong.” *Pauses* “How many people say no and throw a fit over saving someone else’s life?”

Nurse: “You’re so sweet, thank you! And… you really don’t want to know.”

They told me the patient was doing well, and my own surgery went off without a hitch once I was in there.

I work in a retail pharmacy in a somewhat small city/big town. There are three locations in town, but only one of them has a drive-thru.

One day while I was working at the drive-thru, a patient drove up with a dog in her car. This is pretty common, so we actually keep treats to hand out. 

The patient was pleasant throughout the transaction, and as usual, I offered a treat for her dog. It was around this point that she noticed my name tag, with [My Name] written on it. It’s an older name, so not many people have it, especially people my age.

She started gushing about how much she loved that name, and the dog with her even shared the name, as well! 

Ever since then, every time she sees me at the drive-thru, she gets excited and tells [Dog], “Look, there’s [My Name]!” On a phone call that I happened to pick up, she made sure to tell me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year if she didn’t get the chance to see me before then.

She is quite easily my favorite patient.