What Crawled Up Her Diaper And Died?

I work in a clinic and we are slammed. It’s flu season, years before the global health crisis. Coughs, croups, asthma, and intestinal issues abound. Instead of a regular appointment schedule, each day, we have at least one provider scheduled to take care of nothing but urgent care — basically whoever walks in off the street needing immediate care.

The provider on schedule is a very sweet, capable lady. A woman walks in with a toddler and explains that she is his aunt and he needs to be seen. She has a note from the mother stating she can be present for his exam. [Provider] takes a look, finds some minor infant issues (along the lines of diaper rash, nothing serious), explains things to the aunt, and sends them on their way with a topical cream.

An hour later, [Rude Mom] calls in demanding to speak to [Provider]. Apparently, the cream [Provider] prescribed is not a satisfactory solution.

The front desk employee actually breaks protocol and goes back to speak to [Provider], who explains the situation briefly but cannot stop to talk to [Rude] Mom because she has at least five other genuinely sick patients in various rooms. [Front Desk Employee] relays the information and tells [Rude Mom] that for a more detailed consult she’s either going to have to wait until [Provider] has a minute to respond to messages or come back in with the kid and get a time slot.

[Rude Mom] goes off about how she can’t take off work. [Front Desk Employee] murmurs sympathies, stating that she has her own children and knows how hard it can be. [Rude Mom] does NOT care for that and snaps back.

Rude Mom: “I don’t give a f*** about your kids! I care about my kid, and I don’t want to hear your f****** problems!”

She continues in this vein, getting more and more irate until [Front Desk Employee] hangs up the phone.

Another hour passes, and suddenly, I get a frantic call to the front. [Rude Mom] has managed to escape her workplace and is in the waiting room making a scene. [Front Desk Employee] is hiding in the hallway to avoid escalating things, but I can tell she’s about to lose her temper. 

I go up there to try and calm things down.

Me: “Hi, I’m [My Name]. I hear you’re having some problems. Would you like to come back and talk with me?”

Rude Mom: “H*** no. I don’t care if I’m making a scene; y’all deserve to sweat a little!”

Me: “Ooookay. Well, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? I’ll see if I can fix it for you.”

Rude Mom: “Just bring the phone b**** out here and I’ll fix it myself!”

She gestures toward the door and makes a fist.

Me: “I sent her on break, and I certainly won’t be bringing her back up here. I’d really like to help you if I can.”

Rude Mom: “Fine, then. I just want to let you know that all your staff are rude b****es, and you’re a rude b****, too.”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Rude Mom: “I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY SON! I AM A GOOD MOTHER, AND Y’ALL DON’T GIVE A S***, AND THAT’S MAKING ME PISSED!”

She rants like this for a few more minutes. As far as I can parse out, we were lying about the diaper rash, and she wants an explanation that fits her personal diagnosis of a real problem for her toddler. No, it isn’t diaper rash! She knows her own son! Stop lying about diaper rash! STOP LYING ABOUT DIAPER RASH AND TELL HER THE TRUTH!

Me: “Look, I can get you records of the visit, I can let you sit down with a nurse, or I can take you to a room and we can talk more. I don’t know how else to help you.”

Rude Mom: “WHAT DO I CARE? WHAT’S ONE MORE INCOMPETENT B****?”

Me: “Okay, listen. If you want to come back and talk to me when you’ve calmed down, great. But right now, you’re upsetting my other patients and you need to leave.”

At this point, she’s making threatening gestures, so I put my hand on the phone and start to dial the police.

Rude Mom: “Oh, I’m leaving. I’m f****** leaving, and I won’t be back!”

Everyone heaves a collective sigh of relief as the door closes behind her. I apologize to the other people in the waiting room, especially the children, who are looking a little shell-shocked. They all mutter that they understand and it’s okay, but I feel terrible.

After I calm the front desk staff down, I go back and find [Front Desk Employee] and tell her to take a few more minutes and get herself a cup of coffee.

I go back to my desk, but ten minutes later, my phone rings. It’s [Rude Mom].

Rude Mom: “I just want you to know that I could sue you. Those receptionists were not telling you how things really went down, and they made it look like I am a bad mother. Just thought you should know.”

She hung up. I popped two Tylenol and laid down on a couch for a while.

Afterward, I contacted the owner and got the woman banned from the clinic, but it still bothered me. I was so afraid she was going to throw a punch at me or something, over a diaper rash and a little cream.