No Bald Announcements

Medical Office, New York, USA | Healthy | December 13, 2017


(I have noticed a small bald spot at the top of my hairline. Concerned, I make an appointment with a dermatologist to get it looked at.)

Nurse: “Okay, what seems to be the problem?”

Me: “I noticed I have a small bald spot on my head and am concerned about it.”

Nurse: *looks at the spot* “Oh, that doesn’t look to bad. Don’t worry about it, hon. I’ll have the doctor come in and help you.”

Me: “Okay, thank you.”

(I then wait about half an hour on the exam table until the doctor finally comes in to the room. He sits down in a chair without acknowledging me and reads my chart. He then stands up and leaves the room. About five minutes later he comes back in and walks towards me without speaking. I see a large syringe in his hand. He reaches up to my head with the syringe and is about to inject me when I back away from him.)

Me: “Okay, wait. What are you doing? What’s the syringe for?”

Doctor: “I need to give you an injection.”

Me: “Why, what’s the problem?”

Doctor: “You have a spot of alopecia. This will help it.”

Me: “What is in the syringe?”

Doctor: “Steroids. It’s fine.”

(The doctor then proceeded to grab my head and injected the area with the huge syringe. He disposed of it, took off his gloves, and left the room giving me no information about the condition, what caused it, or if it would go away. I left there pretty angry and worried. Thank god for the Internet because I was able to do enough research on it to not freak out. It cleared up and hasn’t been a problem since but, Jesus Christ, talk to your patients before stabbing them in the head with a needle.)

A Needling Suspicion They Did That On Purpose

Dentist, Texas, USA | Healthy | December 13, 2017


(The dentist’s assistant has treated me like a child the whole time because I said I have a needle phobia. Important note: I am in therapy for this, and the coping mechanism I learned was to steel myself for it, to watch it. I know most nurses think that it’s better not to watch, but I got the phobia from a bunch of medical students practicing on me at age 10, and not letting me say no or have any control over the situation at all. They practiced until my parents came in and threatened them. Since then, I have needed to prepare and watch.)

Assistant: “So we’re going to give you some numbing, okay, sweetie?”

Me: “Okay. Just tell me when you’re using the needle. I need to know.”

Assistant: “Of course, honey. Now I’m just going to make sure your teeth are squeaky clean for the procedure.”

(She starts using different tools, and I let my mind wander… until I feel a needle pierce my gums. I jump.)

Me: *mumbling because of her hand* “Hey! I told you to tell me!”

Assistant: “Tell you what, sweetie?”

Me: “When you used the needle!”

Assistant: “There’s no needle, silly!”

(I push my tongue against the side. I can also feel it on my lips. This is freaking me out worse than if she had told me.)

Me: “Uh-huh!”

Assistant: “Stop being ridiculous!” *finishes the injection, pulls out the needle* “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

(I started having flashbacks so I couldn’t even respond. I got up and ran into the bathroom, barricading the door. The dental assistant acted confused and surprised and asked me what’s wrong. I didn’t answer her. The dentist ended up rescheduling my appointment, but brushed it off when I told him what she did. I didn’t let her touch me again.)

Death-Defying Expectations

School, USA | Healthy | December 12, 2017


(An EMT has come to our school to train us on how to use the new defibrillator. He’s not impressed with our skills.)

Me: “So after it’s done shocking, do we take the pads off their chest?”

EMT: “No, just let the coroner do that.” *pause* “I mean the doctor.”

Will Have To Reorient Your Understanding On Lifestyle

Canada, Medical Office, Ontario | Healthy | December 12, 2017


(My husband is an RNA, and the doctor asks him to explain the procedure going forward to a patient who is experiencing symptoms relating to diet and lack of exercise.)

Husband: “So, the doctor has told you that many of your symptoms are related to diet and lack of exercise. I’m going to go over some programs you can take advantage of to help change your lifestyle.”

Patient: *startled* “I have to change my lifestyle?!”

Husband: “Yes, your going to have to change it completely if you want to start feeling better. I have some brochures here for the various programs we are going to offer to get you signed up for. They all offer professionals in various fields who can help you learn how to incorporate these changes into your routine so they became a natural part of your life.”

Patient: *getting up, trying to gather her jacket and purse to leave, while shaking and clearly outraged* “I can’t believe you are asking me to join these programs! I always told my husband he was being silly, no one was trying to change lifestyles and that he was just wrong, but he’s right! I can’t believe this is happening. The news is going to hear about this!”

(Then she stormed out. My poor confused husband told the doctor what happened, and the doctor called the patient later in the day to try to find out what set her off. It turned out she didn’t understand that the doctor’s office was trying to set her up with a dietician, a charity-supervised walking group, a swim aerobics class, and publicly-offered healthy cooking classes. She legitimately thought that the ‘professional services’ would help her seamlessly change her ‘lifestyle’ to gay!)

I’m Gonna Go With Time-Travel

Colorado, Denver, Phone, Time, USA | Healthy | December 12, 2017


(I am calling my doctor’s office to make an appointment and she is asking for basic information like my name and date of birth.)

Receptionist: “And when is your date of birth?”

Me: “February first, ‘94.”

Receptionist: “Is that 1994?”

Me: “Well, unless I’m from the future or look great for 123, yes, 1994.”

Mouth Wide Shut

Dentist, Louisiana, USA | Healthy | December 11, 2017


(For some reason, all of my baby teeth didn’t come out on their own, so at 13 I had to have all four of my canines removed. The dentist removes the ones on the left side without issue and I go back a few weeks later to have the ones on the right removed. The bottom one comes out easily enough but when the dentist tries to pull out the top one, he winds up roughly yanking my head forward.)

Me: *yelps but keeps mouth open* “Ow! That hurt!”

Dentist: *grasps my tooth again and tries to wiggle it* “Hmm, looks like it’s still got the root. That’s weird.”

Me: “Does it need cutting out?”

Dentist: “Nah, it just means you have to open your mouth wider.”

Me: *frowning* “It doesn’t get wider than that.”

Dentist: “Sure, you can.”

(He then proceeds to put one hand in my mouth and tries to force my mouth open wider than is physically possible. My jaw makes a loud, clicking sort of pop as he does and I shout in pain then, without thinking, I bite down on his hand. HARD. He screams and he and his assistant pry my mouth open. I’m given another shot of Novocaine and he finally RIPS my tooth out. He gives me the tooth as a souvenir and his assistant packs the holes in my mouth then sends me on my way. I can’t get out to my mom out fast enough and refuse to let her schedule a follow-up or the cleaning I’m due.)

Mom: *as we’re getting in the car* “What was that screaming? Was that you?”

Me: “Nope, I bit the dentist. And I bit him good, too.”

Mom: *shocked* “Oh, my god, [My Name]! Why?!”

(I relate what happened and she stares at me with her mouth hanging open.)

Mom: *muttering as we drive off* “We are NOT coming back here. Ever. And I’m telling everyone I know to never come here.”

(About a year later the dentist closed his practice.)

A Pathological Vapo-Rub User

Chicago, Grocery Store, USA | Healthy | December 11, 2017


(I’m out grocery shopping, and I’m having trouble finding something, so I go to find a store employee. It’s worth noting that I’m a very petite blond woman in my early thirties.)

Me: “Excuse me, do you happen to know where the VapoRub is?”

Stocker: “Oh, yeah, it’s over here.”

(He hands me a tub of the stuff formulated for babies, and I thank him and immediately swap it out for a jar of the menthol mint formula.)

Stocker: “Ma’am, you don’t want to use that stuff with your kids. It’ll be too strong for them.”

Me: “Well, that’s good, because I don’t have kids.”

Stocker: “What’s it for, then?”

Me: “Cadavers. I’m a pathologist, and peppermint oil just doesn’t last through the workday. Water deaths, especially; you would not believe the smell…”

(The guy went sheet-white, and hurried away as fast as he could without running. I felt kind of bad, but it was definitely the funniest part of my day! My mentor always said that pathologists have the weirdest sense of humor…)

Scream Bloody Murder At The Sight Of Blood

Canada, Daycare, Ontario | Healthy | December 11, 2017


(My son is 18 months old. I am planning on entering him in daycare and returning to work. I check around, and choose a daycare in part because of the above and beyond training the staff all have, including comprehensive (instead of emergency only) first aid training, annually. About three weeks after I enroll him, I get a call at work from a frantic daycare worker, who speaks perfect English, despite what happens next.)

Worker: “Your son was climbing on a chair and fell. He hit his head quite badly. There is a lot of blood coming out of his ear, and he hasn’t moved in 15 minutes!”

Me: “Is he talking or doing anything!”

Worker: “No, he hasn’t done anything at all since he fell. Maybe you should come pick him up.”

Me: “Call an ambulance. That’s very serious. Call right away. I’ll be there soon!”

(I throw my keys at my boss, barely tell him that my son is hurt and I have to go, run out of work, and drive like an idiot, all while picturing the most horrible things, and arrive just as the ambulance gets there. The ambulance attendants and I rush inside to find my son calmly lying in a staff member’s lap, getting read to, trying to reach up and grab the book closer to himself. When he sees me he gets up and runs over to me, gabbing away the whole time. The staff member I talked to originally turns to me and the ambulance attendants.)

Worker: “That’s the first time he’s gotten up since he fell. He’s been lying in her lap reading books for the last half hour. We checked him over and he’s nicked his earlobe, which HAS bled quite a lot. That’s why I thought his mom should pick him up, but she insisted I call the ambulance, so I thought I better comply. Lawsuits, you know.” *stupid giggle*

(The ambulance attendants were extremely disgruntled to be called out for something that clearly wasn’t an emergency of any sort, and the worker keeps trying to blame me (‘New parents! Always overreacting to normal childhood bumps and bruises. Insisted I call an ambulance, etc.’) I may have lost it a little bit, yelling at her that her wildly inaccurate description of his injuries is why I insisted on her calling the ambulance, and that she had caused not only a huge waste of time for emergency services, but also extreme anxiety for me in her effort to make the story seem more interesting, or whatever her problem was.)

1 Thumbs


538


Share on Facebook

Share on Reddit






0






Pumpkin Season Finally Turned Deadly

Canada, Farm, Ontario | Healthy | December 10, 2017


(I am working at a pumpkin patch and we have to move the rotting pumpkins to a huge garbage bin. I and two coworkers have the pumpkins in a ranger, a huge garbage bin, and are throwing them into the dumpster. [Coworker #1 ] throws the pumpkin and it hits [Coworker #2 ] on the head, like, smack dab in the middle of the head.)

Coworker #1 : “OH, MY GOD, ARE YOU OKAY?!”

Coworker #2 : “Yeah, I blacked out for a bit but I’m fine.”

Me: “Oh, god, hold on; let me get someone!”

Coworker #2 : “I’m fine; I’ve had a concussion before I know the drill. Let’s finish this!”

Me: “What? No, I need to get someone! You said you blacked out!”

Coworker #2 : “It’s fine; I’ll have my sister wake me up every few hours.”

Coworker #1 : “She says she’s fine. I didn’t mean to hit her anyway.”

(Against my better judgment, we finished the pumpkins and all signed out and went home. [Coworker #1 ] called in the next day and I saw she posted on her FB wall she was in the hospital with, guess what? A concussion!)

Prescribing Some Business Advice

home, USA | Healthy | December 9, 2017


(I’ve just gotten back from the pharmacy, having filled a new prescription for some anti-anxiety medication. The prescription was for a much larger supply than I’m used to. Also, my boyfriend works in mental health, and as such is fairly familiar with psych pharmaceuticals.)

Me: “So, do you think they gave me enough?” *showing him the huge prescription bottle*

Boyfriend: “Whoa. They’re tiny, too. Is that, like, a year’s supply?!”

Me: “Not really. See, look: they’re in little bars. It just looks like lots of tiny pills.”

Boyfriend: “So it’s Xanax?”

Me: “Um, the doctor said it’s BuSpar.”

Boyfriend: “BuSpar is a Xanax analogue. Not one-to-one, but still, you could sell those for $15 a pop!”

(He gives a thoughtful pause, then turns on the voice chat with his friends on his computer, which he’d muted to talk to me.)

Boyfriend: “Hey! Anyone wanna buy some Xanax?”

(He was joking, of course.)