"I went in to see my gynecologist because I needed my birth control prescription renewed. I was 18 and had just started getting intimate with a man. She came in and scolded me for having relations with someone I wasn't married to, said that he didn't love me and was just using me and that I would end up pregnant and alone. I paid her no mind but made a mental note that from then on that I would not see her for my appointments.
When I went to the pharmacy for my prescription, they said the office had never sent it. I called a million times/went into the office, and each time it was some bullcrap excuse about why it wasn't sent. It turned out she did the same thing to a classmate of mine. I firmly believe she didn't send my prescription on purpose like she was trying to teach me a lesson. Safe to say, I switched doctors immediately after."
"I can't really remember this but my parents told me about it. I was super hyper as a kid and one day I was being really lethargic so my mother brought me to the local doctor. He gave me a quick look over and said, 'Nah, he's grand.'
When I got home, my father was back from work, and said, 'No, there's something wrong with him.'
They brought me back to the doctor and after arguing with him for like 20 minutes, the doctor got sassy and said, 'Fine, bring him to the hospital,' and wrote a letter for my father to bring with him to the hospital. My father got a look at the letter later, and it was this big passive aggressive rant that basically said, 'Ugh, sorry you have to deal with these pushy parents.'
Meanwhile, as soon as I got to the hospital, they were like, 'Oh my God, this kid has pneumonia.' For the record, the doctor never apologized."
"I had a major issue with my eye a few years ago and most of the nurses were amazing even though I was in so much pain. I'd been there about a week when they replaced the cannula in my arm for the fifth time. This older Irish nurse did it. 'Short, sharp pain!' she warned. Now, I was in because my tear duct had exploded and I had cellulitis in my eye, which was total agony. Getting a cannula should've been nothing compared to that, yet I screamed when she put it in.
Every time I moved my arm, I screamed. I called her in twice, telling her I thought there was a problem with it. I knew there was, but she didn't listen. She didn't care and treated me so badly. An old man next to me dropped his blanket, so I got out of bed to help him. I picked up the blanket with my cannula arm, and literally bent over in pain, screaming. The old man called the nurse in and pleaded with her. He insisted the pain wasn't normal, but she ignored him. I started crying and she ignored me.
The next day, my eye started gushing blood so they took me in for emergency surgery. The anesthesiologist gave me a relaxant and wheeled me into the operating room, and I was lying there while they did all the prep. After several minutes I was like, 'Uhh, should I be feeling sleepy yet?'
Someone asked, 'You're not sleepy?' Then there was a sudden wave of activity and the surgeon checked my cannula. I screamed when he touched it, and he blurted out, 'Idiots! How long has she had this in?'
Someone else replied, '13 hours.'
The surgeon gasped, 'It's stuck in her muscle tissue.'
I was told later that that is one of the most painful things that can happen and that it was insane I had lasted those 13 hours. I also hadn't received any IV antibiotics for those 13 hours, which is probably why my eye started bleeding. The infection had actually burst through my eye because there was nothing stopping it. It might be spiteful, but I really hope that nurse was punished for her incompetence."
"I have a pretty long history of ulcers. Occasionally, I'll slip from my ulcer diet (love me some Indian food) or get super stressed about an exam and one will reopen. No biggie, just take some Tums and eat nothing but a bland diet. Easy peasy.
However, once in a blue moon, multiple will open and I'll poop blood. Usually not a big deal, looks more concerning than it actually is, blah blah blah. Well, during one particularly bad episode, not only did I poop blood, but A LOT of blood. And it was dark looking. Oh, that's new. To the ER we go.
So I checked in at the ER and told them what was wrong. They put me in a gown, had me lay on the table, and told me that the doctor would be in shortly. The doctor was an old dude, one of those guys who always talks to everyone like you're at a bar, meaning loud and brash.
The doctor looked at my chart and apparently only saw two things: 'symptoms: pooping blood' and 'patient is a gay man.' So he just opened with, 'Well, you need to stop taking it back there and the bleeding will stop.' Super loud. Super direct. Super awkward.
My boyfriend and I just kinda stared at one another and laughed nervously. I explained that I did not, in fact, bottom much because of my ulcers, and that these were caused by ulcers. The doctor also didn't believe me about the ulcers and thought I was just 'embarrassed' about butt stuff, but I insisted that they do some tests. After a back and forth for a good 15 minutes about whether or not I was getting pounded on the regular, he ordered some tests, insisting it was a waste of time and money. Low and behold, I had three open ulcers. I got my prescription strength tummy medicine and got the heck out of there."
"I had a 'doctor' order the nurses to give me Elavil after I had specifically refused it. She was convinced that my symptoms were caused by 'depression' and 'wanting to get off work.' Yes, she actually said that to me. She prescribed Elavil, saying that it would help with pain and 'also it will help with (my) depression and (I'll) see that everything will look brighter.' I refused, saying that I wasn't depressed other than my frustration about getting a diagnosis. I tried again to convince her that my pain and inability to hold down food was not a mental/emotional issue.
About a week later, I collapsed and ended up in the hospital. She told the nurses to give me Elavil via IV and not tell me. I almost immediately started having extreme tremors and what they called pseudo-parkinsonism. One of the nurses slipped up (or actually stepped up) and told me it was caused by the Elavil. I was furious, as I had said I did not want to take it.
Later on, after going home and several more weeks of constant vomiting, I ended up hypokalemic and completely paralyzed. I was taken by ambulance to another hospital (not in my health maintenance organization) and it took them less than a week to find that I had a grapefruit sized tumor 80% infiltrated from my uterus into my abdominal wall. They sampled the tumor and my lymph nodes and found I had cancer with lymph involvement on both sides.
I underwent a hysterectomy/oophorectomy with radiation treatment and my pain magically disappeared. To this day though, I have the twitching and tremors as a souvenir. As a bonus, the first doctor told me she had been convinced it wasn't cancer because 'cancer doesn't hurt.' When I saw her again after the surgery, I said something along the lines of, 'Well I guess cancer does hurt after all!'
Her response was, 'It's not cancer that hurts, it's the nerves it was compressing.'
I told her, 'In that case, step over here by the door and I'll slam your hand in it. The door slamming won't hurt, just the nerves the door compresses!'"
"I'd had a stomach virus for four days and could barely keep anything down. My nurse randomly asked if I'd been taking my bipolar medication and I said no because it would've been a huge waste of money since I was throwing up, but I assured her I was fine.
My documents said I had a history of hallucinations and she got visibly nervous and her voice was high when she asked if I had any problems because of it. I said I'd had a few very mild hallucinations, but nothing like I've had in the past.
She proceeded to excuse herself, go into the hallway, and loudly freak the heck out to the doc and other nurses. She was saying my full name where other patients could hear. I immediately jumped up and ran to the door, telling her to please shut up and stop breaking HIPPA. I wasn't that crazy for her to be losing her mind over four days without quetiapine."
"I was really wasted at a party, fell, and got a huge cut on my head that wouldn't stop bleeding. I went to the hospital, where they stapled my head together and let me rest for about three hours. Then they handed me a brochure without saying anything and told me I could go.
So there I am in the street, completely wasted in nearly freezing weather. I hailed a cab and when I got out, I literally fainted in the street. A neighbor asked if I needed to go to a hospital, to which I replied, 'I just came from the hospital.' I got helped up to my apartment where I passed out on my bed for about 10 hours.
When I woke up, I pulled the brochure out of my pocket which said, 'You may have a concussion. It's very important that you not be alone for the next 24 hours.' I still can't believe they released me in such a condition. Idiots."
"A little while back, I had a kidney stone removed and a stent put in. Something didn't feel right about it and I was in more pain after the procedure than before I had the stone removed. By day three, I was peeing a ton of blood, I wasn't eating, and I just looked like death.
When I went back to the hospital, I got sent home. They told me it was normal. I went back in two days later and was sent home again. Both times, they barely checked me (I was told I must go back to the same hospital I had the surgery done at if there were any complications, which is why I kept going back there instead of another hospital). Two days later, I collapsed.
I actually went to my general practitioner before going to the hospital because I wanted a second opinion. He took one look at me, ultrasounded me immediately, and found I had a massive blood clot in my bladder and a couple smaller ones where my stent was. The hospital was around the corner, so my ride rushed me there
He called ahead and told them off, saying that he would help me sue them if something happened. They admitted me and had the nerve to say, 'Why didn't you come in earlier?' I told them how they'd already sent me home twice. Then they made me wait a couple hours for another ultrasound, even though the GP has just given me one.
I had to stay in for two days while they flushed out the clots. But they refused to take out the stent and said it must stay in the full two weeks. Even after they flushed out the clots, I was still in extreme pain, like getting up off the bed was agonizing, and I still wasn't eating. I begged them to take the stent out. I felt like it was constantly ripping my insides.
The nurse told me to come straight back if I saw any bleeding, which I thought meant they would take me seriously. Not even 24 hours later, I was bleeding again. At that point, I felt like I was slowly dying. My mom and aunt found me just lying on the ground, looking like a ghost.
They took me back to the hospital where, I kid you not, the triage nurse basically rolled her eyes when she saw me. They were going to send me home again! They said it was normal! After everything that had already happened, it was like they were ignoring my file. They finally admitted me after my mom stepped in, but still wouldn't take out the stent. The urologist saw me twice that day, I begged him to take the stent out, and he told me to wait a couple more days.
Then I found a nice nurse who was concerned when she saw the blood in the pee bowl, so she spoke to another urologist over the phone. He said he would take the stent out that afternoon. When I got there, he didn't seem to have the history of what had happened. He just took a look at me and how I couldn't walk properly and took it out straight away. They used some camera so you can see them do it, and while he was operating, you could see all the blood clots coming out.
Afterward, he freaked out, asking why I hadn't I got it out earlier since the clots were so dangerous, and I told him what had happened. He was so angry that he called my original urologist to ask what he was thinking. He also drafted a document in case I wanted to pursue legal action (my GP wrote a formal complaint, too).
The moment he removed the stent and the clots came out, it was an instant relief. I ended up passing a part of a stone and three more clots at a public restroom on the way home. Some guy saw me crouched on the ground, asked if I was in labor, and before I could answer, he offered me some DMT then rode off. By the next evening, I was walking around, eating, and had my color back. No more bleeding.
It was so crazy. I felt like such a burden going back to the hospital each time, but I knew something was wrong even though they told me it was normal after-effects of having a stent in. I don't understand how they could think losing the amount of blood I was losing every time I peed was normal. They didn't even seem to care that I hadn't eaten in days and I looked like death warmed up. Honestly, that GP was my life saver. I went back to him after a few days to get a check up ultrasound for any blood clots, but they were all gone."
"I spent two years going to and from monthly or weekly doctor's visits with my general practitioner and multiple specialists due to several car accidents. I have diagnosed spinal damage, TMJ, fibromyalgia, and chronic pain.
During a visit with my GP, I joked that I see her and my other doctors more often than my own mother. She looked at me and said, 'Wow? Really? That's really sad,' in the most judgy voice ever.
So I said, 'Yeah, I can't leave my house or drive most days. I literally save up my strength for doctor appointments and spinal shots for the spinal damage.'
She looked down her nose at me and said, '...what? Spinal damage? Are you sure?'
I was very sure, as she had recommended me to most of the specialists I was seeing (including a psychiatrist for my depression due to CHRONIC PAIN). I ended up switching doctors literally that day. It was the best decision I ever made."
"When I was in my 20s, I was getting a ton of blood taken to rule out a bunch of diseases and zero in on the horrible one I knew I had/was eventually diagnosed with. So I was a mess from that weighing on my mind and add to it my severe phobia of getting my blood taken and I was a crying mess.
Now, the phlebotomist didn't know what I had been through or what was going on with me. I looked perfectly healthy, right? I guess she thought I was just a drama queen because she was so incredibly rude to me. She told me how her brother had just died from ALS and so I had no right to be crying and basically called me a loser.
Some people might've been able to toughen up a little, but I was not that person on that day. At that point, I got angry and told her that I hated her. Well, that did not go well for me either because she launched into a verbal beat down while taking nine vials of blood from me. It was just a really bad experience. It was really unprofessional on her part, and did zero to help with my blood phobia."
"When I first got insurance through my husband, I had to find a new doctor. I had an ear infection and went to see the random new doctor. I frequently have ear infections, so it's usually in and out. The doctor looks at my ear, clucks, and gives me a prescription.
This doctor asked me about my symptoms and I told her. Instead of looking in my ear, she started asking me other questions.
Doctor: 'Well, are you nauseous?'
Me: 'Right now? No.'
Doctor: 'Are you ever nauseous?'
Me: Well, yeah, occasionally...'
Doctor: 'Oh honey, I can't prescribe you anything because you're pregnant! That's why you're nauseous. Now don't even take any pain medication or you'll hurt the baby!'
So I found myself back in my car with orders for a blood pregnancy test and an anxiety attack. During the whole appointment, the doctor never even looked at my ear or did anything else except ask about nausea.
After I calmed down, I ditched the test orders and went to urgent care, where, surprise, I had an ear infection. I never went back to that doctor, but I did get a call months later asking if I'd done the pregnancy test and to come back for prenatal care. Over ten years later, I'm still not pregnant."
"I once took my college roommate to the emergency room after someone had attempted to violate her. It was a guy from our floor who ran into her at a party. At one point, he disappeared into the kitchen to make her a 'special drink,' which she accepted because she was 18 and naive, believing this guy was her friend. Half an hour later, the resident assistant caught this guy trying to drag her unconscious body into his dorm room. The RA told the guy, 'Nope, this isn't happening,' picked my roommate up, and brought her back to our suite.
She was still really messed up the next morning, way more messed up than she should have been after having only two drinks the night before (as in, she could barely stay awake), so I brought her to the ER. The doctor couldn't have been ruder or less sympathetic. He rolled his eyes when I explained that she'd only had two drinks and said something along the lines of, 'You expect me to believe that?' He heavily implied that she'd deserved what happened to her and that the incident would teach her a lesson about drinking too much.
When we asked for a test, he refused and went off about how it was a waste of time because less than 1% of people actually test positive for roofies, and he knew that she was just wasted and lying because she regretted going home with the guy. We loaded her into a car and drove her to the hospital one town over. She tested positive for rohypnol. Surprise dude, sometimes people are that 1-in-100 case.
The story still doesn't have a happy ending, sadly. When my roommate went to the university with the test results, they sat her down for a meeting about how the guy in question would be 'ruined' and 'lose his football scholarship' if she accused him, and they asked if she really wanted to do that. They implied that she'd voluntarily taken the substance and that she would get in trouble for violating the school's substance policy if she came forward. Her grades tanked and she barely finished college. I switched my major to psychology later that year, and now I work with victims like her for a living. This incident was five years ago and I'm still mad."
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