Unfiltered Story #100039

, , | Unfiltered | November 18, 2017

(When my mum had just moved to our city, she needed to find a dentist for me. I was three years old, so finding one that was good with children was a priority. A co-worker recommended someone, and she made an appointment. She knew it was a mistake right from the get-go. The dentist seemed to be in a very bad mood and obviously had no patience whatsoever with children.)

Dentist: SIT STILL!
Me: *whimpers*
Dentist: Open your mouth. Wider. Oh, for Pete’s sake, what’s wrong with you? I said WIDER!
Me: *not used to strangers yelling at me, I start to cry*
Mum: Um, excuse me –
Dentist: Quiet. I don’t need to hear from you.
Mum: I BEG your pardon?
Dentist: I said be quiet.
Me: *starts to cry louder*
Dentist: Now, see what you’ve done? You’ve upset your child.
Mum: I’VE upset her?
Dentist: *tries to put fluoride on my teeth, accidentally squirts it down my throat instead*
Me: *throws up all over him*
Dentist: THAT’S IT! OUT! OUT!
Mum: You don’t have to tell me twice. Come on, sweetheart, we’re leaving.

(She found another dentist shortly afterwards who loved children and was patient and kind. She gave the co-worker royal heck later for recommending that sadist!)

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Unfiltered Story #100036

, , | Unfiltered | November 18, 2017

I have a history of coughing up blood for no particular reason. Despite a lack of a diagnosis explaining why it happens, its happened three times. Two out of the three times, it was copious amounts. The first time, it happened when I was 16 and within a few hours, coughed up several cups before I was able to get to a hospital. A vein in my right lung had burst! The docs never figured out why it happened, but it happened again when I was 18. Fortunately, it was only a few mouthfuls – it ended up just being a busted capillary. Then it happened when I was 22.

I had dealt with multiple nurses and doctors in the ER down the street telling me I was probably just over exaggerating, which was incredibly infuriating. To prove that I was telling the truth, I began to collect the blood by spitting it into a container, and keeping the container in the fridge. It was disgusting. Between Wednesday afternoon and Friday morning, I had coughed up and collected almost two cups of blood.

I had a bronchoscopy at a different hospital go bad – a negative reaction to the light anesthesia they gave me – so they sent me back to the ER to get myself admitted. It was then that I dealt with the most stuck up doctor in my life.

I had no makeup on (obviously, who has time to worry about that when one’s life is possibly on the line), and in the past that’s led people to mistake me for a high schooler more than once. It seemed to fool this doctor too, unfortunately. He approached me with a haughty, unbelieving demeanor, and treated me like some sort of hysterical, loony teen.

I started arguing with him about my honesty in the situation, and it began to escalate to a frustrated yelling match. While I regret resorting to yelling at a doctor, I don’t regret how this ended. Not one bit.

I finally reached a breaking point, and yanked my purse from my mother’s arms, shoved the container of blood at the doctor, and screamed.

Me: “*THIS* IS WHAT IVE BEEN COUGHING UP!”

The doctor’s face went completely white as he gaped at me, stared at the container, looked back at me, and took it to run out of the room. Another doctor came in right then, and the first doc grabbed his arm to drag him out with him. They closed the door behind them, but there was a huge window in the door, so I could see both of them holding up the container, arguing, and acting generally panicked.

Join the club, dudes.

When Doctor Jerkface came back in, he had a huge change in attitude: sweet, attentive, eager to help.

Doctor: “Alright honey, don’t you worry, we’re going to admit you to the ICU right away. We’re going to take care of you and figure out why this is happening.”

I let myself become the smug jerk in the room, and gave him a victorious smirk.

Me: “You’re damn right you’re going to.”

Unfiltered Story #100034

, , | Unfiltered | November 18, 2017

(My sister has had a terrible few years culminating in her leaving the army due to “failing to adapt” to training in a combat oriented job despite having been told she’d just be a translator. She’s too empathetic for that kind of thing and the training was hard for her kind heart. Unbeknownst to my family, she became depressed.

But one day, she and I have an argument, and I get a weird feeling. I ask her if she’s going to hurt herself. I tell her if she ever does anything to herself, I’ll do the same to myself. Later I get a call from her saying she took a lot of Benadryl in an attempt to kill herself. I send her to the emergency room and follow in a car behind the ambulance. When I get there, I hear screaming behind the doors to the ER from the waiting room and I know it’s her but the receptionist pretends she couldn’t hear it. Finally I’m allowed back.)

Nurse, attempting to pin my sister to the medical bed: “You need to hold still and cooperate!”

My sister, shirtless, terrified and still drugged, crying: “No!” She sees me and cries, “[Sister], save me!”

I’m standing there helpless, at a loss, crying. My sister gently pushes the nurse off her and runs back to the bathroom to hide in the corner with her shirt clutched to her chest. The nurse tries to follow and I stop her. My sister just spent time in the military and in my mind it’s a miracle she hasn’t hurt this woman already.

Nurse: “She needs to change into a medical gown and get her blood drawn so we can see how much she took!”

My sister has a phobia of needles.

Me: “Let me talk to her.”

Nurse: “She needs to cooperate! Either I can do it or I can call an anesthetist. That,” she’s angry and ranting at me, “that is not the behavior of someone under the influence of Benadryl!”

Me, now angry: “No. That is my sister, and she is hurt and scared. Now you need to back off and let me talk to her. You said she needs her blood drawn? Just a minute. Stay out here.”

Me, coming into the bathroom: “I know you’re scared. That nurse is a f****** jerk, but you do need to have your blood drawn to see how much you have in your system. Either the nurse can draw your blood, or anesthetist can do it. Which would you like?”

Sister, shakily: “Anesthetist.”

We walk out and she lays down on the table and holds her arm out. I ask if it’s okay for me to hold her and she agrees, so I take her other hand and put my arm around her shoulders and she hides her face in my neck while the anesthetist draws her blood. That’s when the nurse finally seems to feel some sympathy for my sister.

However, when our family arrives and after the doctor is with my sister, she asks my parents a bunch of nosy questions and then asks why we didn’t see this coming. That’s when we finally ask to speak to the head nurse. I know that our worst day is the ER nurse’s every day, and I don’t know what the training is on handling people like that, but a modicum of empathy goes a long way with a lot of people even if they’re under the influence. A couple years later, my sister is okay now, and she knows we love and need her.

Unfiltered Story #100141

, , , , | Unfiltered | November 17, 2017

I work in a chain fast food restaurant, at night, and it is pretty slow. A sfamily comes in. At this place you have to ask if they’re eating for here to go, I asked and she said “To go” So I put that in the computer and continued with their order. It was a pretty long one, cause it was a big family, so I made sure everything was right and she said it was.

They go to sit down and I get their order ready and put them into bags. I call her name and she comes over the counter and looks very confused/angry. Then she looks at me and says “Um. I ordered this for here.”

I just pause for a moment and decide not to argue with her. Instead I said “I’m sorry, I can put it onto a tray if you’d like.” A process that would have taken less than a minute, and she grabs the bags from me and says “No. It’s TOO LATE.”

I just think she wanted something to b**** about. Not the rudest customer but probably one of my favorite stories about working there.

Unfiltered Story #100139

, , | Unfiltered | November 17, 2017

(I am at a sports bar watching football with my parents and little brother. We have been there for a while and my mom has had a little too much to drink.)

Little Brother: “Dad, please can we go now? I’m so bored.”

Dad: *looking at beer to see how much he has left* “Okay, fine we’ll leave soon, hang on, Just give me four inches.”

Mom: “That’s what she said.”

(At this point I was laughing so hard that I almost spit out my soda.)

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