(An order comes to my pharmacy for a well-known antibiotic. This antibiotic is known to smell exactly like rotten eggs, so most of us just hold our breath while we count it and try not to think about it too much. We dispense it to a woman who is picking it up for her teenage son. Everything is normal and she leaves with the prescription, but about 10 minutes later she comes stomping back into the pharmacy, pretty much shoves the person that I am currently helping out of the way, and throws the bottle of medication on the counter.)
Customer: “I want to speak to your manager right now! You guys gave me rotten medication!”
Me: “Really? Let me look at the expiration date on your bottle. Normally we don’t keep anything that has one less than a year away.”
(I look at the bottle and see that the pharmacist wrote a date of over a year away, and I go over to our stock bottle and check and the numbers correspond with each other.)
Me: “Hmm. Well, ma’am, it doesn’t look like this medication is expired but I will have the phar—”
Customer: “You are just lying! I mean, come on and open that bottle! It smells totally rotten! I can’t believe that you would ever give someone bad medication! My son is very very ill!”
Me: “Oh, that’s just because the active chemical that is in this medication has a bad smell. Trust me, I wish there was something that we could do about it back here, too. Most of us hold our breath while we count it.”
Customer: “Stop ****** lying to me. You just don’t want to admit you did something wrong! I will have your job for this, b****!
(At this point the pharmacist who has been listening the whole time walks over.)
Pharmacist: “Ma’am, while I don’t like the fact that you are calling my staff names like that I will let you know two things. One is, certain chemicals have a bad smell. It’s just a fact of life. So, while I know that smell is unpleasant, it’s just one of those side effects that come with being able to take medications that will help your sick son. I assure you it’s supposed to smell that bad. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t work right. Two, since you don’t seem to want to listen to my employees and call them awful names, this will be the last time that you or any members of your family can shop or fill any type of medication here. Maybe in the future you can learn how to treat people the way you want to be treated.”
(The woman proceeded to turn bright red with embarrassment and tried to apologize, but my boss wouldn’t hear it. That was almost two years ago and he still will not allow her or her family to fill their prescriptions at his pharmacy.)
Doctor/Physician, Hospital, Ignoring & Inattentive, Nebraska, Non-Dialogue, Nurses, USA | Healthy | October 10, 2019
In 2013, at the age of 25, I begin to have tonic-clonic seizures. Prior to this, I have never experienced any kind of seizure. As the doctors are trying to understand what’s going on with me, they recommend an MRI to see if there are any physical indications in my brain as to what’s going on. Before the referral is made, the doctor asks if I have any metal in my body and I tell them no, and they note it in my chart. They tell me not to wear any jewelry when I go to have the MRI.
I go to the MRI clinic and throughout the paperwork process, I am asked several times if I have any metal in my body. I write “no” on all the paperwork and confirm this verbally with the intake person. I then speak with the nurse who takes me back to where the MRI is, and she asks me a couple of times if I have metal in me, as well. I tell her no and that I didn’t wear any jewelry. She writes that down and leaves me to change into clothing with nothing metal in it and to hang out in the room until the tech can come in and prep the machine.
After about five minutes, the tech comes in and begins prepping everything. “Before you lay down, I need to ask if you have any metal in or on your body.”
I am profoundly tired, in a lot of pain from the seizures, and scared I have a brain tumor, and so my coping mechanism kicks in. “Oh, no, just the implant the alien put in me when I was taken up on the mothership,” I say, as brightly as possible.
She looks at me quizzically and I repeat myself, smiling to let her know I’m kidding. She’s silent for a beat and then just sighs and tells me to get on the table. No chill at all.
I understand why they have to ask about metal due to the intense magnetism, but jeez, look at the charts, people! I don’t think I need to answer this question twelve times in the span of 48 hours.
Also, I don’t have a tumor, and my implant didn’t show up in the scan!
Bad Behavior, Connecticut, Pets & Animals, Revolting, USA, Vet | Healthy | October 9, 2019
(I work at a very busy veterinary hospital, and due to the volume of clients and the fact that we are near a highway, we have a “dogs on leashes, cats in carriers” rule to keep everyone safe. People often carry in small dogs, though, and today a woman sets her puppy down and lets it run around the lobby.)
Coworker: “Hi! I’m sorry, but could you please pick your puppy up? She’s very cute, but sometimes we get dogs in that don’t like other dogs.”
Woman: *scoffs* “I don’t let her run around. She had to pee, and it was either on me or on your floor.”
(Outside in the big grassy areas dividing the parking lot was, apparently, not an option. We get animals that piddle on the floor for a variety of reasons throughout the day, but I don’t think it’s ever been quite THIS intentional.)
Hospital, North Carolina, Nurses, Patients, USA | Healthy | October 7, 2019
(I’m pregnant with my daughter and at the hospital to have labor induced. The nurse is going over final checks and running down how the birthing is going to — ideally — go.)
Nurse: “We may need to give you a blood transfusion if you bleed too much. Let me explain the benefits–”
Me: “Approved. B+.”
Nurse: “Um… Okay… Sign this form.”
(We go through some other routine stuff and get to treating the baby after she’s born.)
Nurse: “It’s standard to give a Hep B and Vitamin K shot to the baby. You don’t have to, of course, but the benefits are…”
Me: “Do it. All the shots.”
Nurse: “Oh, thank God!”
(She caught herself and apologized for her breach of bedside manner. We have a few religious sects in the area that are anti-transfusion and anti-vax, so I can imagine the pushback she got day-to-day. I laughed and explained that we are a “science” family and the awkwardness melted away. The rest of the checks and forms were done relatively quickly now that the nurse knew she didn’t have to sell me on everything. The birth went mostly smoothly and my daughter is now a healthy fifteen-month-old.)
Blood Donation, Doctor/Physician, Health & Body, USA, Washington | Healthy | October 5, 2019
(I donate blood about every two months, provided that I’m healthy enough to do so. One thing the blood bank screens for is anemia: my hematocrit has to be 38 or higher to donate and not become anemic from it. Hematocrit in the low 30s is anemic; around mid-20s you’d probably need a transfusion yourself. But some time in the last eight weeks, the blood bank switched to testing hemoglobin instead, the minimum donation number for which is 12.5. I didn’t know it was a new test.)
Phlebotomist: “Okay, your temperature, blood pressure, and pulse look good. Let’s test your iron.” *pricks my finger, takes a few drops of blood, and puts them in the tester* “You’re testing at 12.6.”
Me: “My hematocrit is 12.6? Should I go to the hospital?”
Phlebotomist: “What? Why? Oh! No, your hemoglobin is 12.6, which for our purposes is equivalent to a 39 hematocrit. You’re fine to donate. If you had a 12.6 hematocrit, you’d be unconscious at least. I’d be calling an ambulance… or a hearse.”
Dentist, Patients, Silly, USA | Healthy | October 3, 2019
(It’s my first visit to the dentist in over ten years, and I tell the doctor that. What she doesn’t know is that I’m very nervous. The last time I was at a dentist, I was 15 and the doctor didn’t put in any anesthesia and drilled into my tooth. It was excruciating and I was crying a lot, and he didn’t seem to care. In fact, he seemed used to crying in his office. Anyway, I decide to bite the bullet and go for a checkup with a woman doctor, hoping she’ll be more sensitive. She finds three cavities, much to my dismay. She actually uses novocaine, and my gum is all properly numbed. However, I suffer from anxiety, so when she’s drilling my tooth, I can’t help but picture her slipping and drilling into my TONGUE, instead. This gives my tongue a mind of its own. It starts trying to escape, wiggling all about, trying to pull itself free and out! I can feel it moving, but the harder I try to stop it — since I don’t want to weird her out — the more it tries. Finally, she stops.)
Doctor: “You don’t have to wiggle your tongue around that much you know. Just try to keep it still.”
Me: “Sorry. I’ll try.”
(And I did, but I could still feel it moving. Finally, she was done and I zipped out of there to pay. I could tell she was relieved, too, and probably told her husband about my crazy tongue!)
Australia, Childcare, Children, Coworkers, New South Wales, Revolting | Healthy | October 1, 2019
(I work in a childcare centre. Every ten minutes we have to check on the sleeping children in the nursery to make sure they are still alive and breathing. A coworker who is quiet, sweet, and very unsure of herself does the check and comes out of one of the cot rooms to say
Coworker: “[Child] has thrown up a little.”
Me: “Oh, okay. Do you want to clean it up, or do the washing up I was about to do and let me clean it up?”
Coworker: “Ah, I’d like to do the washing up if you don’t mind.”
Me: “Sure thing.”
(I go grab what I will need –gloves, washcloths, bag for clothes, etc. — and walk into the room. The child has projectile vomited in her sleep; it is EVERYWHERE and the child is still asleep. The sheets need to be thrown out, the cot has to be disinfected, and the child needs a bath — it is in her hair and in her socks. I walk up to that coworker later.)
Me: “Um, [Coworker]…”
Coworker: “Yes?”
Me: “You led me down a bit of a fantasy there by saying it was a little bit of vomit.”
(She and the other coworkers in the staff room lost it with laughter.)
My mother has Alzheimer’s and lives in a care facility. Not long ago, she was taken ill and they sent her to the local emergency room for some tests as a safety precaution because she can’t communicate and so it was unclear exactly what was wrong with her.
Mum’s husband and a carer went with her from the home and I joined them in the hospital. Understandably, my poor mother, who had no idea what was going on — even though we tried our best to explain — was confused, upset, and maybe even a little frightened.
The nurse taking care of Mum wasn’t unkind as such, but she was brisk and abrupt, and she made little to no effort to try and reassure Mum or interact with her. Again, understandably, Mum became ever more flustered and upset despite our best efforts to keep her calm and reassure her ourselves.
Then, the shift changed, and a new nurse was assigned to take care of Mum. She interacted with Mum; she spoke to her, touched her, calmed her, and reassured her far more than Mum’s husband, the carer, or I had managed to achieve. She even had Mum cooperating.
When Mum was finally released, I went and thanked that nurse for helping a frightened and confused woman feel calm and safe. The nurse was totally shocked that I thanked her. Later, my sister, who’s also a nurse, told me that while people are quick to complain, they rarely say thank you. Nurses do a very hard job, working with people who are ill, frightened, confused, and many other things besides. They’re not perfect, but on the whole, most of them do an amazing job. Please don’t forget to say thank you.
(This was a few years ago. I have made an appointment with a new GP to give me a contraceptive implant since I keep forgetting to take my pills and I want to be safe. This is my first time at this particular office.)
Doctor: “So I’m just going to numb the area first and then we’ll get the implant in there.”
Me: “Okay.”
(I roll up my sleeve and turn my head away.)
Doctor: “Are you all right?”
Me: “Oh, yeah, I just don’t like watching the needle go in. So I’m gonna look at that wall there.”
Doctor: “All right, then.”
(She then stuck the needle in and lifted the skin of my arm up with the needle as she removed it. When she apologized she attempted to do it again. Both times were quite painful but thankfully the needle didn’t break and the rest of the appointment went fine.)
Doctor: “Again, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened there. Maybe if you didn’t have such tiny arms!”
(Three years later I went to get my implant replaced. This time I got a nurse to do it. She did it completely pain-free on the first try. I guess my tiny arms weren’t a problem for the nurse.)
Health & Body, home, Nurses, Religion | Right | November 14, 2016
(I am an RN that goes around to people’s homes. I get an order to obtain a blood draw from a particularly religious patient who refuses to let me try anywhere except the tiny blood vessels in her hand. As I’m on my second attempt, apparently she thinks I need a little help…)
Patient: *loudly, with eyes closed* “Lord Jesus, help her find that blood! Send the blood to her Jesus; she needs your help! Draw her to that vein, oh Lord, and show your power!”
Health & Body, Inspirational, Kind Strangers, Popular | Hopeless | June 13, 2016
(It’s my first day commuting to work off campus during summer term and I have a bike to get there. I’m feeling pretty good until three miles in, when it gets harder to keep going. All of a sudden, a van pulls over.)
Stranger: “Get in.”
Me: “I’m going to work and I really don’t—”
Stranger: “I’m a registered nurse and you’re showing signs of heat exhaustion. Get in now.”
(After stammering a bit, I let the RN put my bike in back and get me a water bottle.)
Me: “Thanks! I’m an out-of-state student so I’m not used to this heat.”
Stranger: “I get it. Do you need a ride home?”
(She showed up after my work and drove me home. I never saw her again, but I loved her.)
Awesome, Health & Body, Inspirational, Kind Strangers, Popular | Healthy | May 17, 2016
(My family is visiting my grandma, and we like renting bicycles to ride around the gated community where she lives. My mom and two younger siblings are just on our way back to the house. It’s a very hot day and I’m wearing a dark shirt.)
Me: “Hold up a minute. I feel woozy.”
(I pull onto the grass and sit down, panting, as my vision swirls with purple-green clouds. Usually they clear in a few moments, but they’re not going away. I can’t get back on the bike until I can see, so Mom is about to send my brother on ahead to bring Dad back with the car, when a car pulls up next to us.)
Little Old Lady: “Do you need help?”
(I’m a little fuzzy on the details after that point, but it turned out that she was a retired nurse! She offered to drive me back to Grandma’s house. I was doing a little better in the air-conditioned car, but I was still woozy and she talked to me to keep me awake. When we got to the house, I had to lean on her shoulder to get inside; my dad told me later that he thought I was helping her at first! She helped me into a reclining chair and got a cool, damp washcloth to put on my forehead before she left, with instructions to drink lots of water and not move for a while. She left before I could thank her, but I sent a thank-you note when I was better. Even after they retire, nurses are awesome people!)
(During first full week of Advanced Placement and IB tests of my junior year in high school I find myself struck with a particularly nasty illness called norovirus, which causes nearly non-stop vomiting and diarrhea. I am home alone, as my father is out the whole week for business, and I am taking the bus to and from school for exams. Since I knew I cannot miss any of these tests on such short notice, I manage to tough it out for four days, but at that point I have not been able to eat or drink anything that remains in my stomach for more than five minutes. Severely dehydrated and weak, I finally decide to go to a close-by clinic for IV fluids after school. Since they need a doctor on-site to legally be able to give fluids, I call ahead.)
Nurse: “Hello, [Clinic]. This is [Nurse]. How may I help you?”
Me: *very quietly as my throat has started to develop acid sores* “Hi… Do you have the… Do you do IV fluids?”
Nurse: “What’s that, sweetie? I didn’t quite catch that.”
Me: “I need IV fluids… I really need them.”
Nurse: “Unfortunately we don’t have a doctor with us right now, hun.” *I start crying, since at this point I’m worried I will not be able to get out of bed tomorrow for my next exam* “Sweetie, what’s the matter? Are you hurt?”
Me: “No… I think I got norovirus from that restaurant that was shut down last week and I’m home alone and I have my AP tests that I can’t miss and I haven’t been able to eat or drink anything for days and I’m getting too weak to do anything! I can’t go to the ER because my dad didn’t leave me enough money to cover anything and I really need to go to my exam tomorrow!”
Nurse: “All right, sweetie, give me one second.” *the line is silent for about five minutes* “Okay, hun, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to go out to you and pick you up, then we’re going to go to the [Clinic] downtown and get you your fluids. After that I’ll take you home and you give me your exam schedule. Is tomorrow your last day for exams until next week?”
Me: *shocked at her kindness* “Yes, ma’am.”
Nurse: “All righty. Then I’ll take you to your exam tomorrow morning and then we do need to check you into the hospital, all right, sweetie? Give me your address and I’ll be there in a few minutes. Call your dad and tell him what is going on, okay?”
(This nurse had negotiated with her supervisor to get the next two days off work so she could make sure I was taken care of and safe. After my exam the next day she picked me up and took me to the hospital, used a few personal favors to get me in quickly and hold off on payment, and stayed with me until my father could get there. We have since become good friends, and I am currently working on my own MD while volunteering at her clinic. This woman is why nurses really should rule the world!)
(I am pregnant and suffering from toxaemia, which is a form of blood poisoning. My blood pressure is extremely high and I have been admitted to hospital. I have been there for two weeks when my blood pressure goes even higher.)
Matron: “You have been scheduled for an emergency induction tomorrow morning; we can’t leave you like this for any longer.”
(Very early the next morning, she comes in and starts the preparation for the induction when a doctor comes in.)
Doctor: “[Matron], I need you to stop what you are doing. I need to speak to the patient. Please leave us alone.”
Matron: “Yes, doctor.” *leaves*
Doctor: *to me* “We are postponing your induction.”
Me: “But I’ve been told I have to have it.”
Doctor: “We’ve decided not to do it right now. It doesn’t really matter, seeing as this is elective.” *meaning I chose to have it done*
(He says nothing to reassure me and leaves. Later one of the nurses comes by.)
Nurse: “[My Name], what are you still doing here? I was sure you would have had your baby by now.”
Me: “Dr [Doctor] told me that it wasn’t being done, and told me it was elective.”
Nurse: “He said what? Did you elect to get pre-eclampsia? I’ll go and see what’s going on.”
(A few minutes later she is back.)
Nurse: “I found out why they postponed you. We only have four birthing rooms and there are a dozen screaming women down there waiting to get into them. You were considered stable enough to wait one more day”.
Awesome Workers, Health & Body, Medical Office, Nurses | Working | December 9, 2013
(I’ve been sick this past week and I go to the clinic at nine am. They tell me they will call in the prescription at ten am. At two pm, I go to check the prescription.)
Pharmacist: “I have no prescription here under your name.”
Me: “The clinic said it would be ready by ten am. Let me call them.”
(I call the clinic.)
Me: “Hello. I have a prescription that hasn’t been put through yet. I need to make sure I am at the right pharmacy.”
(I am promptly transferred without a word to the women’s clinic line, which is the incorrect department. I am instructed to leave a message, as the nurses are out to lunch.)
Me: “Um, hi. I am [My Name]. I was just wondering where my prescription was sent. It’s not at the pharmacy and—” *I cough and my head immediately begins to ache terribly. I sniffle and tear up* “—if you could please help me that’d be nice.”
(I hang up and go home. At three pm I go to the clinic to verify the location of the pharmacy. They tell me the order has been sent, and to wait a couple hours. I go home yet again. At five pm I get a call from the women’s clinic number at which I left the message.)
Nurse: “Hello, is this [My Name]? You left a message a couple hours ago.”
Me: “Yes. I’m sorry, I was trying to find out where my prescription was. I already checked back with the clinic and they told me where the prescription would be.”
Nurse: “Everything’s all right, though? This is the wrong department for your call, but since you’ve had the prescription filled…”
Me: “Well… no… I called the pharmacy and the prescription still hasn’t been ordered yet.”
Nurse: “Oh. Let me get on that. I’ll make sure they get it filled out.”
Me: “Okay.”
Nurse: “I will call you back in a minute, sweetie.”
(The nurse hangs up and calls back a few minutes later.)
Nurse: “Okay, I’ve gotten them to fill out your prescription and the pharmacy should have it soon. You are taking [Medicine], which is two pills twice a day. No matter how bad it is, take all of them. You can take decongestants and ibuprofen to deal with the congestion and pain. And, honey, popsicles are your best friends. Drink lots of fluids and warm tea, and get plenty of rest.”
(At this point, the nurse’s concern has caused me to tear up.)
Me: “Thank you so much! I’ve been dealing with this for a week.”
Nurse: “You just sound so sick, sweetie. I called the pharmacy and told them to work extra quick on your order. The pharmacist’s name is [Name]. She’ll have your prescription ready as soon as she can.”
Me: “Thank you.”
Nurse: “You feel better, honey.”
(To that nurse: You had me sobbing. You cared so much and it wasn’t even your department. You helped me and told me more about my medicine than the doctor in the CORRECT department did. I’m so grateful there are people as nice as you working in the women’s clinic!)
Bullies, Hospital, Nurses, Parents/Guardians, Wild & Unruly | Right | August 13, 2013
(I’m 18, and have been hospitalized for a severe case of mono. As a result of the illness, my throat is badly swollen and I can hardly speak. I’m on lots of painkillers. I’m sharing a room with a boy who swallowed a rock. The boy has been screaming since his mother left and his father can’t quiet him down.)
Nurse: “Okay, [My Name], I’m just going to check your vitals.”
Me: *whispering* “How much longer until I can have more pain medication?”
Nurse: “Not for a while, sweetie.”
(The nurse leaves. The boy’s father has been watching us the whole time.)
Boy’s Father: “Listen, you little b****! Don’t you f****** gossip about me to the f****** nurses! You keep your f****** mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for you!”
(I’m stunned, as I haven’t said a word to or about him. As I can’t move and can barely speak, I’m in tears and terrified. Not long after, my mom comes in to visit.)
Mom: “Hey, [My Name]. How are you doing?”
Me: *crying and whispering* “Mom, the dad of that boy screamed at me. He said to shut up, or he’d shut me up.”
(My mom is silent, but clearly fuming. She leaves for a moment.)
Boy’s Father: “WHAT DID I SAY?!”
(Just then, my mom comes back with security in tow.)
Mom: “Escort him from hospital grounds NOW.”
Boy’s Father: “B****! You can’t tell me what to do! You aren’t the boss here! I’m twenty-f******-five!”
Mom: “Actually, I AM the boss here! It’s my day off, but I’m head nurse on this floor, and if you EVER speak to my daughter ever again, I will have you arrested so fast that you won’t ever hear the sirens! And by the way, I’m forty-freaking-eight and I have the good sense not to let my kids eat rocks!”
(The man was removed from hospital grounds and was banned from re-entering for 48 hours unless it was an emergency. I have the best mom in the world.)
(My mother takes my younger brother and me out to a restaurant for dinner. As we are eating we witness a car crash in the road. My mother, being an LPN (licensed practical nurse), leaves her meal to rush across the street to offer help. We are seated by an elderly couple right next to a window.)
Elderly Man: “Did your mom just go out there to help them?”
Me: “Oh, well, she’s a nurse. Pretty much anytime an accident occurs and she’s there, she tries to help.”
Restaurant Proprietor: “That’s your mother out there?”
Little Brother: “Yeah. Our mom’s a nurse, so she went to help out.”
Restaurant Proprietor: “Wow! How cool!”
(My mother spends the next 30 minutes out in the middle of traffic, helping both drivers with their injuries, and waiting until EMTs arrive. She comes back in, and we resume our meal like nothing has happened.)
Elderly Woman: “Are they okay?”
Mom: “Yeah, but the poor girl — her parents are out of town. She has to wait in the hospital for them to come and see her. She pulled out, and that guy pulled out in front of her and rammed her car.”
Elderly Woman: “Well, at least they’re okay.”
(Another 20 minutes pass while my mother finishes her meal and the check is brought out to us. As the proprietor from earlier leaves the check, the couple next to us get up to leave.)
Elderly Man: “Let me tell you something…”
(He quickly snatches the check off of our table.)
Elderly Man: “If I were in an accident like that and needed help, I would want you to come and help me. Anyone who selflessly dodges traffic to help someone like that deserves to have their meal paid for. I hope that if one day I’m in an accident I have you there for me.”
(Despite my mother’s protests, the man pays the bill without even glancing at the total. When we go to the front to explain ourselves, the cashier isn’t surprised.)
Cashier: “Oh, that’s Bill. He’s a regular here. I’m not surprised he did that. He’s a real sweetheart. He was actually on his first date with that girl!”
(If you ever read this, Bill, you moved my mom to tears that day. You have forever made me want to be a better person! It’s people like you that re-instill my hope in humanity.)
(I arrive at work an hour and a half early because I forgot what time I start. I decide to sit in the lobby and have lunch before my shift. I notice that the trash can is in dire need of being emptied and that the front counter is busier than usual. I start to tie the bag up, when a customer screeches at me.)
Customer: “What do you think you’re doing?”
Me: “Just changing the garbage, ma’am. It was full to overflowing and it was too busy for someone to leave their post and do it.”
Customer: “You don’t have to do that, young man! You’re not one of these dropouts that lives in their parent’s basements who can’t do anything better with their lives! What are you taking?”
Me: “I’m planning on becoming an licensed practical nurse. But, ma’am, I don’t just go to school. I work to pay my bills. As a matter of fact, I live in a condo my mother owns. She does not live with me, and I pay rent to her. I pay for my electricity, my Internet, and my heating. How do I earn the money for this, you ask?”
(At this point I remove my hat from my bag, put it on and remove my coat, revealing that I am dressed in my work uniform.)
Me: “I work here, taking whatever hours I can get. A student without anything on their resume will take any job they can. ”
(I point to one of my coworkers who is mopping the floors at the back of the store.)
Me: “She’s a neuroscience student. Just like me she has bills to pay. In the future, please remember that people who work in fast food are not always drop outs, but more often than not students trying to fund their education. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take out this trash, unless you would like me to help extract your foot from your mouth first.”
(Flustered and obviously embarrassed, the customer leaves the store in a hurry. My manager, who is also a classmate of mine, speaks with me once I return from the dumpsters.)
Manager: “Technically, you could be fired for badmouthing a customer while on the job like that.”
Me: “Technically, I’m not working right now! I haven’t clocked in, and my shift’s not for another half hour.”
Manager: “Well then, brave citizen, how does free apple pie sound?”
(I accepted, of course. You just don’t say no to free pie!)
(I am out to breakfast with some friends from work.)
Me: “Excuse me, do you know if the cook uses milk to make the omelets or just eggs?”
Waitress: “Just eggs. Are you allergic to milk?”
Me: “No, but I am lactose intolerant and I forgot to bring my meds.”
(We all order our food. However, after the waitress leaves, I overhear someone from the table next to us asking for a manager.)
Other Customer: *loudly* “I want to complain about that waitress. I heard her interrogating that poor woman about her personal medical issues! I’m a doctor and I know you can’t just ask people about things like that! It’s against the law! She could sue you!”
Me: *to the other customer* “Excuse me, before things get out of hand here, I’m the person she’s talking about. First of all, our waitress asked if I had an allergy to milk. It was a good question considering I made a point of asking if some of your foods have milk in it. If I was really allergic, the kitchen would have to take extra precautions to avoid anaphylaxis. Secondly, there’s no such law that I know of unless you’re talking about the laws in place to protect your private health information from being accessed by other people without your permission. I don’t see how those would apply in this case.”
Other Customer: “What the h*** are you talking about? What are you, some kind of lawyer, smarta**?”
My Friend: “No, ‘doctor,’ she’s some kind of nurse.”
(We all pulled out our hospital IDs. The “doctor” shut up after that. The manager thanked us for clearing things up and left, and our waitress gave us a free round of cheesecake with a free lactose-free muffin for me!)
Adorable Children, Medical Office, Nurses | Right | October 29, 2012
(My five-year-old son has received a serious injury to his eye. After a pediatrician recommends us to an eye doctor, we are referred to a specialist that works out of a university two hours away from home.)
Nurse: “These are all the contact numbers you should need. I also went online for some directions, and called ahead to let them know it should only be a few hours.”
Son: “I don’t want to.”
Nurse: “What’s the matter?”
Son: *visibly getting upset* “I’m scared.”
Nurse: “But you’ve been so brave this whole time! How about this: if you go see the new doctor, I’ll give you my phone number and you can call me if you get too upset, okay?”
(The nurse writes down her work extension and cell phone number on a piece of paper and adds it to my paperwork, insisting that I feel free to call if I have any problems or questions. My son stays calm all the way to the university and through the appointment with the specialist until we’re told he’s going to need surgery. Crying and upset, he begs me to call the nurse from the clinic.)
Me: *on the phone* “I’m so sorry to bother you, I know you’re still working, but he’s really upset and asked to talk to you.”
(I put the phone on speakerphone so my son, crying on the exam table, can hear.)
Nurse: “Hey, buddy! What’s wrong?”
Son: *crying* “The doctor here wants to give me surgery!”
Nurse: “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’ll make your eye all better. You’ll be able to see again, like we talked about.”
Son: “But I’m scared! It’s going to hurt!”
Nurse: “Of course it’s not going to hurt. That nice doctor wouldn’t hurt you!”
Son: “Have you been given surgeries?”
Nurse: “Yeah, kiddo, a few.”
Son: “And you came back to life?”
Nurse: “Every single time.”
Son: “Promise?”
Nurse: “Swear.”
(My son has calmed down considerably throughout the conversation, and there’s not a dry eye in the room.)
Son: “Okay…”
Nurse: “See? I knew you were brave.”
Son: “Thank you! Love you!”
Nurse: *laughing* “Love you, too.”
(I thanked the nurse a thousand times, and she insisted I call her ASAP to let her know how the surgery went. Later that day, she texted us a picture of herself and her family with a ‘GET WELL SOON’ sign they made for my son!)
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