I got a Ph.D. placement abroad in Switzerland, but because I was starting directly after my Masters, I only got about three weeks’ notice that I had been accepted by the university. Of course, this meant that my choices in flat hunting were limited. I ended up renting a room in a flat with two other people both in their forties.

Things quickly started going downhill — things like being accused of not doing the cleaning when I had, not being allowed to use the kitchen if the main tenant was cooking (he was technically my landlord as I had the contract with him), and having to eat my breakfast while the main tenant was having his morning meetings at the dining table. While not terrible, it did make the whole situation awkward.

Finally, I’ve had enough, and I start flat hunting and find a nice place closer to the centre of the city. Once I have signed the contract, I arrive back at the flat to tell the main tenant I’m leaving with four months’ notice. (It’s May.) He starts speaking before me.

Tenant: “I’ve got a favour I want to ask you. Would you mind if you moved out during August so my daughter who is visiting can stay in your room? Don’t worry; you wouldn’t have to pay any rent for that month.”

I pause in shock for a second.

Me: “Um, no. I’m working over August. I need to use my room.”

Tenant: “Oh, but aren’t you going home for the summer?”

Me: “No, I’m working in the lab over the summer.”

Tenant: “But you’re a student.”

Me: “Yes, I’m a doctoral student. It’s a full-time job. I only get twenty-eight days of holiday, which I imagine is the same as you. I’m not going to put in for all my holiday just because you want your daughter to use the room.”

Tenant: “Oh. Really? Oh, in that case, never mind.”

At that point, I gave him the news that I’d found a new flat and would be moving out.

The next day, I had a thought. I’m young for a Ph.D. student in Switzerland. (I was twenty-two when I first arrived, and all of the other students in the building were three to eight years older than me.) It didn’t help that I have a baby face. I think that somewhere along the line, the “doctoral” part got dropped, and the guy thought I was an undergrad and based his respect on that. The whole situation made me so glad I’d already got a new place.

I start a new relationship and almost immediately start coming down with urinary tract infections (UTIs). For those of you unaware, these can be incredibly painful and often make you feel like you can’t get off the loo, so you want them treated quickly and avoid them as much as possible.

It becomes apparent over the next few months that this is not a one-off. It’s a long-distance relationship, and my partner and I work out that if we are apart for more than a month, as soon as we have sex, I get a UTI. We improve our hygiene and do what we can, but they keep occurring at a faster rate and getting more serious.

I go to my general practitioner every time, but as I get an infection every few months, to them it doesn’t look like a problem. (“Recurring” is classed at roughly more than three in six months, but as my partner and I normally meet up every three to six months, I only get one or two in that timeframe.) I keep trying to explain the link between my long-distance relationship, my boyfriend arriving, and getting infections. They give me a half-hearted response and send me on my way. This cycle repeats for four years.

When I start peeing blood, I’ve had enough. This time when I go for the antibiotics (in quite bad pain), I sit there with a chart explaining the flights and the infections. I talk through everything we’ve been doing to avoid UTIs.

Doctor: “Some women are just prone to UTIs, unfortunately.”

Me: “In the three serious relationships I’ve had, this is the only one where this problem has occurred; I have never needed treatment for a UTI before this. There is something about my boyfriend I don’t seem to get immunity from, or if I do, I quickly lose it.” *Starting to cry* “Please. I am begging you for anything you can do. I can’t go through this for the rest of my life, risking a kidney infection each time this happens. The problem is only likely to get worse when we finally get together full-time; I might be able to keep any immunity gained, but it’s not a given it will happen.”

The doctor finally put two and two together with the colour-coded chart my partner and I had made, and luckily, we’d been able to spend more time together, so the last three infections made this a recurring problem.

The doctor put me on an E. coli vaccine, which takes around nine months to complete. I’m only on month three, but since my boyfriend and I have moved in together (and this is after a gap, so we would expect an infection to occur) there have been no new infections.

Thank God a doctor finally listened to me and, while I may have bullied her into accepting that there was a problem, she finally accepted that there was one.

I’m baking in the evening and realise that I just don’t have enough of one ingredient. I check the time and realise I have ten minutes before the supermarket five minutes away closes. I know the aisle where the product is, so I think I can dash down, quickly look down the aisle, and pay before the shop closes.

I get there with five minutes to go, and I’m not surprised that there are signs that the place is closing. I go down two flights to where the food section is and get to the aisle. I spot the product I am looking for, but before I can grab it, an employee appears and starts speaking to me in German.

Me: “Entschuldigung, mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut. Sprechen Sie Englisch?” *Sorry, my German is not so good. Do you speak English?*

Employee: “We are closing. You need to leave.”

Me: “Yes, I know. I just came to get this.”

I grab the thing I need.

Employee: “You need to go; we are closing.”

Me: “Yes, I’m just heading to the self-checkout to get this.”

I try to walk around him.

Employee: “You need to go; we are closing.”

I check the time; I still have two minutes until the place closes.

Me: “Yes, I know. I am trying to leave. I just want to buy this first.”

I managed to walk around him. By that point, another employee was watching me. Both employees followed me to the self-checkout and watched me check out as if I were about to turn around and run to go and find another 500 items. I bought my thing and left.

I checked the time as I walked out and the grill shut behind me. It was closing time on the dot. I know the Swiss are punctual, but that felt like a joke. I never went to that shop within half an hour of closing again.

My family is visiting me, and I’m looking to find somewhere to eat with them for an early lunch before I have an important exam. We just want something basic, so we wander down to the shopping centre near my flat to see what is on offer. During the global health crisis, the centre set one door to act as an “entrance” door and the other as an “exit”. Since things have settled down, they’ve removed these signs and this is no longer enforced. Only one set remains and cannot be seen from the outside going in.

As any rational human being would do, we go to enter the shopping centre from the door closest to how we approach. As we do so, we encounter this elderly lady exiting. Naturally, we step to the side so we can walk in while she is walking out; however, she puts herself right in the centre of the door and yells in German:

Lady: “This is an exit!”

While true during the health crisis, no one is enforcing this, so I turn to my aunt and casually say (slightly smarta**e, I will admit):

Me: “It’s a door.”

The lady did not like this and started yelling in incomprehensible German as she walked out the door.

It gave us a good chuckle on a slightly stressful day.

My boyfriend is recovering after emergency surgery. As he had a spinal block, he needs more time to recover from the anesthetic. He has just regained full function a couple of hours after the operation is finished when a (male) nurse comes into the room. It’s about 11:00 at this time. Normally, someone would only need thirty minutes or so if they used a general anesthetic, which my boyfriend opted out of.

Nurse: “You guys need to leave.”

I’m here as support and to take down all instructions as my boyfriend is understandably a bit out of it.

Me: “Why?”

Nurse: “We are about to get very busy. You need to leave so we have this bed free.”

We are in the A and E department (emergency room). There are a few private rooms at the end of the corridor with the waiting room at the other end as it’s a small hospital. I literally stick my head out the door, look right, and look left. There is not a sound or another soul except us three.

I turn to look at the nurse, who stares at me and says:

Nurse: “What are you waiting for?”

It was the most unprofessional discharge I have experienced. What kind of emergency was going to occur on a Thursday morning that would require the entire A and E?