Unfiltered Story #199879

, , | Unfiltered | July 4, 2020

I have a service dog due to an invisible medical condition. She wears a beige and red coat and has a bright blue collar, leash and head harness that read SERVICE DOG in two-inch letters all over them. Because she is a very large dog and an unconventional breed, she gets a lot of attention when we go out and it’s usual to have questions about her role and training. On this day, it was only our third outing in public and I was feeling confident because I hadn’t been challenged all day. I was in a pharmacy to pick up my medication.
Sales assistant: *running down the corridor* Excuse me!
Me: Yes?
Sales assistant: I don’t want to be mean, but next time you come you need to leave your dog outside.
(I look at [dog] standing beside me in all her gear, then at the door which is fifty meters away, then at my medication held plainly in my hands)
Me: Um, no. I’m not going to do that.
Sales assistant: It’s fine this time, but next time you really need to leave her outside. We can’t have dogs in here.
Me: I can’t leave her behind. She’s an assistance dog. MY assistance dog. I need her.
Sales assistant *nastily*: Well I wasn’t aware of that! And we don’t let dogs in here.
(I look at [dog] again to be sure – she is still clearly marked. Literally the only parts of her that don’t have some kind of identifying equipment are her tail and her paws. I’m confused by the hostility in the woman’s tone, and starting to feel anxious because I’d never faced being sent out of a store before. I really need my medicine, so I stand my ground.)
Me: But she is a service dog. She’s legally allowed to go anywhere I can go. It’s not safe for me to leave her behind.
Sales assistant: *throwing her hands up* Ugh! I know that! I wasn’t aware that she was an assistance dog! *glares*
Me: I – I don’t know what you want me to say here. She is one.
Sales assistant: Ugh! *storms away*
(I completed the rest of my shopping and left as soon as possible. It wasn’t a big deal but for someone relatively new to my condition and just learning to be independent again with the help of a dog, it was a devastating thing. It was very difficult to be brave enough to go into the next shop that I needed to, although the people working there were totally kind and absolutely appalled at the behaviour when I asked if there would be a problem bringing my dog inside.)

The Cat’s Meow Isn’t Worse Than Its Bite

, , , , , | Healthy | June 15, 2020

I consider myself a bit of a medical disaster; if something goes wrong, it does so in the most spectacular or strange manner. 

This story begins the day before I head to the ER. My indoor cat makes a mad dash for the front door while I am taking rubbish out and disappears for a few minutes. As he is a black cat, and it is 1:00 am, he’s practically invisible.

His presence is made known when he starts getting his a** handed to him by a cat half his size across the road. I sigh, knowing that separating them will get me scratched up, but as a lifelong cat owner, I decide it’s worth it just to get him safely indoors.

What I am not expecting is my cat latching onto my hand, violently. He bites my hand and digs his claws up my arm! I get him back home and begin to clean the wound. It’s deep, but not bad enough for me to realise it needs medical attention. It’s late at night but I wake my parents to let them know what’s happened because I know how dangerous cat bites can be. With copious amounts of disinfectant, and closing up the most suspect scratches, I head to bed. 

During my shift at work the next day, it becomes apparent it needs further attention. I get out of my shift at 9:00 pm, call a nurse hotline, and am told that I really need to be at the hospital within twenty-four hours of the initial bite. Off to the ER I go, much at the dismay of my parents. They’re convinced I’ll be given a prescription of antibiotics and sent home.

Funnily enough, the reception nurse is a lady I assisted at work during the day, and we have a chat while waiting for the doctor. She asks me to take the bandage off my hand, and her face falls. I haven’t really looked at it for a few hours, but it has clearly swollen to almost twice the size of my other hand.

I get taken out back, but there are no beds available. I apologise for taking up valuable time and resources, but they say that they trust my judgment and that it was the right call to come in. The doctor finally makes it in and starts preparing me for an IV. I’m kind of shocked because at this stage I was still just expecting them to clean it and send me home with a prescription. I call my dad, who has been sitting in the car waiting for this “inevitable” outcome, but when he sees the situation, he is shocked, too.

I have terrible veins, which is great fun for all the blood tests I’ve needed in my time. They try to get one into my left arm, the one without injury, and fail. I’m informed it’s really against all best interests to have the injured arm stuck, but they have to go for it anyway. I receive the first round of antibiotics, and some painkillers, too. I’m asked when my last tetanus shot was. I think for a second, and then laugh.

My last tetanus shot was in 2012 when I was hospitalised… for a cat bite that pierced a hole through my skull! (Different cat!)

I’m admitted overnight and placed in the children’s ward, despite being an adult, as they really need to monitor my situation. I also need my arm suspended above my head, which is very uncomfortable with the attached drip. A sleepless night ensues.

The next day, as I’m about to be discharged, four rounds of antibiotics later, I hear the doctor speaking to the patient in the bed beside me. He mentions an animal bite, and I think that he may have the wrong patient.

Nope! The lady beside me, who was admitted mere minutes before me, is there for a snake bite! We end up laughing over it and realise that my situation is actually worse; I am genuinely at risk of losing my hand, but Snake Bite Lady is comparatively fine!

Although I now have a few scars up my hand and arm, it was almost worth the pain when the hilarity of the situation hit realising that my house cat bite was worse than a venomous snake bite!

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Unfiltered Story #192211

, , | Unfiltered | April 17, 2020

(I am female born but don’t like to be called a girl or female or by any pet names. Recently I’ve been trying to curb the use of pet names in general, and unfortunately Australian culture is using overly familiar pet names and nicknames. This instance was the second time I’ve properly asked someone to respect me and my wishes on the subject.)
Customer: Hi love, can I get a pack of [cigarettes] please?
Me: Sure thing, however, I would like to ask you to please not call me pet names anymore.
Customer: What?
Me: Like just then when you called me love?
Customer: Oh psshht
Me: All done, have a nice day.
Customer: Thanks love
(The customer just scoffed and disregarded my request. This has happened every time that I’ve asked someone not to call me pet names. My new tactic is to start calling them emasculating nicknames. It tends to make them feel uncomfortable and start to respect my wishes more.)

His Memory Is Being Wiped More Frequently Than His Behind

, , , , | Right | April 6, 2020

It’s the height of panic buying and Australia apparently runs on toilet paper. We haven’t subscribed to the panic, but we do run out of toilet paper, so I go to look for some. I go into a supermarket and find the toilet paper aisle COMPLETELY empty, but a worker is stocking the shelves. I stand back a moment to make sure there’s nothing and realise the worker is stocking paper towels. An old man is in the aisle.

Old Man: “Do you have toilet paper?”

Worker: “Nah just what’s there.”

Old Man: “What about unscented home brand toilet paper?”

Worker: “Nah man, just what’s out.”

Old Man: “Do you have any unscented tissues?”

Worker: “Just what’s there.”

Old Man: “Do you have any home brand unscented tissues?”

Worker: “We’ve only got what is on the shelves.”

Old Man: “You sure you don’t have anything out back?”

Worker: “Nah man, this is all we have for the day.”

Old Man: “What about a small pack of homebred unscented tissues?”

Worker: “We only have what you can see.”

As I left the aisle I could hear the man getting frustrated asking more questions.

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You Probably Shouldn’t Tackle Civilians, Either

, , , , , , , | Friendly | March 13, 2020

I take a ferry to get to work most days and the ferry dock has a lot of interesting people hanging around. I utilize the time on the ferry and the walk up to work listening to audiobooks on my earbuds or planning my meetings.

One day, I am suddenly tapped on the shoulder by a tall man who does the most interesting Inspector Clouseau impression saying, “You slowed down suddenly and my face hit your bag.” 

This is almost physically impossible but I just say, “Okay, look where you are going.”

Next thing I know, he is in my face saying, “I did not hear you. Are you going to say sorry or say something smart?”

I just say, “I am not going to say anything to you,” and start walking away along the walkway along the river.

I go maybe ten steps before instincts from years as a front line public safety officer get me to step sideways; I move just in time for the idiot from before to barrel past me for what must have been a charge meant for me. He runs unchecked into a support column for the shade structure and splashes into ankle-deep stinking muck from the preceding day’s stormwater discharge.

I would have the guy arrested but he just had karma served right in front of my eyes. Also, his female companion has spotted my badge and is hauling the stinking idiot towards the tap, muttering, “Of all the people, you pick on one with a badge.”

For the record, I am not a street cop.

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