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Tingtwatter asks: Ever been on the receiving end of some quality health care? Tell us about it

(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 11:49)
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This question is now closed.

A few years back, I went out boozing with a work friend of mine and his mate from Uni turned up, who happens to be a Doctor.

Anyway, pint followed pint, we ended up going on somewhere else for a few more, which resulted in the manager of a very posh bar informing us that we couldn't have any more drinks as we were 'the drunkest people I've ever had in my bar. Seriously, the actual drunkest... '

Next morning, I turned up to work about 45 minutes late, in a terrible, terrible state, and there was a voicemail waiting for me from my colleague:

'Hey Snowy... Ed was wondering if you might have accidentally picked up his bag last night. It had his stethoscope and some other stuff in it, and he needs to perform surgery in an hour.'

I don't know whether to be impressed or scared.

Also, all the Med students I knew at Uni were bonkers. One of them's favourite meal was apple and ketchup. She'd slice the apple, drop it in a bowl of ketchup, and microwave it. She once asked me casually 'Do you ever wonder what the belly button looks like from behind?', then explained it based on her morning's dissection. It damn near ruined my toastie...
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:53, 3 replies)
The doctors at my local surgery
This is unfunny, and genuine.

I would like to thank the doctors at my local surgery, and some of the doctors at the local hospital. And also the paramedics who got me to the hospital in time.

I'd like to start by thanking the doctors at my local surgery. Despite my effort to leave this mortal coil prematurely back on February 1st 2008, and again on the 23rd Feb, you guys firstly tried to get me into counseling, and then co-ordinated with the mental health care team to try and find drugs that would leave me able to function with as few side effects as possible. There was one doctor who I ended up getting as my full-time GP who always spent the last five or ten minutes just chatting with me about anything and everything at the end of the appointment. Thank you for this small show of human kindness as I had no-one else to talk to at the time.

I would like to thank the paramedics who got to my house in time when I deliberately overdosed and then panicked and called for you before passing out in the doorway waiting for you. Without you guys, I would not be here to type this. I'm sorry that I don't know who you guys were, on account of me being unconscious, but I'd still like to thank you.

Lastly, I'd like to thank some of the doctors and nurses at the local hospital. You gave me another chance at life, one I didn't deserve, and yet here I still am, typing away on various websites and wanking like a madman whenever I get bored. Without your help, I would not be A) on this Earth still, and B) in a relatively well off position. I've still got most of my major motor functions and slowly I'm getting better. My memory is still fucked, but there's not much that anyone can do to repair that due to the years of drug and alcohol abuse.

Oh, and I'd like to thank one of the nurses there too, for having the most amazing pneumatic tits ever. So, thank you for livening my days up in hospital.

I would not like to thank one of the doctors at the hospital though. Specifically the one who when told that I was suicidally depressed, had attempted to do myself in once before the second attempt (this was before my overdose), had a family history of mental illness, and most specifically "That this isn't because of the break-up I had earlier today, this has been happening for far longer than that", immediately says "Oh, it's because of your break up. Go home and come back to your GP in a few days for some anti-depressants." (I paraphrase, I can't remember his exact wording but thats the gist of it) I was not impressed with you. I had been waiting around for hours, which I can understand as at that point I was not deemed to be a high level risk, but to fob me and the notes the GPs office had sent on ahead of me off in about thirty seconds of me seeing you? That was not cool.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:53, 1 reply)
Funny name
At Norwich and Norfolk University Hospital there resides a Dr Dick.

At least he's not in gynaecology.


(I know, I know...)
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:42, 8 replies)
The concussion wasn't funny, but the examination was...
One Sunday evening, whilst at home, I managed to crack my head pretty hard by misjudging the height of the underside of the stairs, after crouching down to pick something up. I remember feeling a bit painful, and quite sleepy after that, so I decided to go to bed.

A word of warning: if you feel sleepy after a bang to the head, get over to A&E

The next thing that I remember is it's Monday, late morning and I'm at work. I don't quite know how I got in, I'm feeling a bit dizzy, and for some odd reason, I'm wearing trainers not shoes.

I tell the boss something is wrong and she tells me to go home; I realise the bang to the head might have been a bit more serious than I thought so I do the only sane thing - call good ol' Dad, who promptly leaves work, drives over and picks me up.

"Right, you're going to A&E, as you should have done last night!"

Things at this point fade out a little, although I have been told I only had to wait 5 minutes before being seen, and the first doctor to look at me was quite cute, but I still can't remember her.

What I do remember, was the second doctor who came to examine me - he checked my eyes with a light, then made me stand up, hold onto his fingers and told me to push and pull so as to test my balance.

Unfortunately, I suddenly found being asked to stand there and pull someone’s finger incredibly funny, and I ended up in hysterics. I can only blame the concussion for my lapse in sensibilities.

I was ordered to stay at home in bed for at least a week and a half due to the quite bad concussion, and if any visual impairments occurred, I was to call an ambulance immediately.

Dispite my silliness, A&E saw me very quickly, and were bloody brilliant!
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:41, 2 replies)
When I was 5 or so
I had a circumsicion because my bell end was too big for my foreskin (well that's what I tell people anyway).

After I came out of the surgery I was but on a bed with a metal casing to stop the covers sticking to my blood soaked helmet.

What they didn't do was put the covers down on the end of the bed. This meant everyone that walked in the ward got a view of my crusty cock and possible arsehole dependent on how I was sitting.

I thought my dad would have noticed and sorted it out but he was in his own world watching MOTD on a tiny black and white handheld TV.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:36, 1 reply)
I went to hospital to have a wisdom tooth removed
Before the slightly sadistic surgeon started maiming my mouth he said:

"Have you seen the film Marathon man"

I have, and I didn't appreciate the joke, but saying so was a bit tricky with a mouth full of cotton wool. This is what he was talking about: www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPQ7KMCrPLE

After the surgeon had finished abusing my face he said:

"This is a prescription. You need to take this to the pharmacy to get some painkillers. Take 4 of the immediately and hopefully they'll kick in before the local anesthetic wears off... if they don't you'll be in SEVERE pain"

So off I trotted to the hospital pharmacy. I gave them my prescription and was promptly told I'd have to wait until their computer was fixed before I could get my drugs.

I love the NHS, me.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:35, 1 reply)
I had water on the elbow last year, and had it drained, and was prescribed antibionics to make sure it didn't infect.

Herewith conversation with 40ish year old doc before she did it:

Doc (approaching me with large syringe):"Right, erm ... god ... I haven't done one of these since I was at uni!"

AV: Erm ... well let's hope you remember how!

Doc (sincerely): Yeah ...


Doc: Right - keep that on for the week - now I'll prescibe you these to stop any infection.

AV: OK - cheers. Now - doc - I don't want to appear hedonistic or more idiot than I am, but since it's Easter this weekend - can I drink on these? Only I know there are some forms of them that you can, and some you can't.

Doc: Oh! Erm ... ah ... OK - I think you can ... *WIKIPEDIAS* erm ... well ... there's nothing here about not being able to drink on them, so ... yeah - you should be fine - fingers crossed, eh?!

I'm totally going private. It's what successive governments have wanted for decades anyway - hence their running down the NHS - private medical care is worth more.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:34, 10 replies)
Ever been on the receiving end of some quality health care?
Nope. Never really needed it.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:31, 3 replies)
Sorry for the serious manner but i feel it needs to be said..
It annoys me that so many people slate the NHS. Yes there are problems but there are many brilliant things about it.

My father was diagnosed with a heart murmur in 2003 and was receiving a double heart valve homograph within 24 hours. When things are really bad the NHS stands head and shoulders above other health services. anyways..

On the other hand I current work doing marketing for a dentist who yesterday told a group of mothers that they had all effectively negatively altered their babies facial appearance by not breast feeding them properly. I thought he was going to be lynched! (he practices orthopaedic orthodontics (orthotropics))

(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:31, 2 replies)
Dear Dr Scraggins
I apologise to you for that day that I came in to ask for some Hayfever medicine, only to look you in the face and suddenly get very emotional and walk out of your room.

I probably should have realised that with a name like 'Scraggins' you were probably related to David.

I should also have been more mature than to break down in tears when we spoke about your brother, my friend, and the rest of your family that died in that car crash in Spain.

If I had the chance to speak to you again, I would apologise for how I reacted.

Take care
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:29, 2 replies)
I'm allergic to Latex.
My dentist doesn't have latex free gloves. He does, on the other hand, have incredibly hairy knuckles.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:28, 7 replies)
I've spent six months in hospital, two months of those in Intensive Care, and in that amount of time the number of bizarre things that happened was beyond belief.

However amongst all of the weird things that happened, the one that stands out was not actually a hospital matter. However it did happen there, so here goes.

I'd just been moved to a ward, but thanks to being infected with MRSA I had my own room. It was quite a nice room actually, but the downside was that although I could breathe again I still had no movement below the neck. Which meant I had no access to a call button, so was checked in on every hour or so. Evening drew on one day and I heard gentle footsteps. Since I had a neurological disorder I was on a ward with the other neurology cases- mostly strokes etc, which meant everyone else was old (as far as I know). Into the room came an absolutely massive, quite old black man. I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not, but in he came right up to the bed and stared at me. He sat down and looked at me and I remember squeaking 'go away' and he nodded and walked slowly out.

Quite bewildered by this experience I settled back, only to see I had another unexpected visitor. An old, old lady in a nightdress, with floaty grey hair. Again she drifted up to me and said 'Are you my fairy godmother?' When the nurses retrieved her (apparantly her mind had pretty much gone, and her favourite method of entertaining herself was pressing panic buttons) I asked why she'd called me her fairy godmother. The nurse explained the old lady thought she was a child again and tended to give everyone names that reflected that. This nurse had been called mum, and the other nurse (an older woman) had been called grandmum (much to her dismay). Not being exceptionally tactful, the first thing I said was 'at least she didn't call you Rover.'
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:26, Reply)
The NHS is great
I'd like to thank the staff of Luton & Dunstable Hospital for seeing me right after I totalled my motorcycle on the M1 a dozen years ago. They kept me high as a kite on pethidine for a week, and even coped with my bid to escape to freedom in a drug-fuelled haze (I got as far as rolling out of bed and ended up on my knees on the floor, wondering what the hell I was going to do next).

I got tip-top healthcare, all for free, for something which was, basically, my own fault.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:26, Reply)
Following my rant about prescription changes from the last QOTW:
Here are some rather fantastic convos I've had with the same nurse at my "compulsory reviews"

NURSE: So do you know how to use your inhalers properly?
ME: Yes, I've been using them since I was eight.
NURSE: Oh. But can you show me? I have an inhaler here...
ME: Wait... Does that have blisters in it?
ME: So...you want me to double dose my medicine just to prove I can do something simple?
NURSE: ...yes?


NURSE: A lot of asthma sufferers have started using this medicine now. It works well.
ME: Is there something wrong with my current meds?
NURSE: No, I just thought you might like to try it.
ME: Well... what is it?
NURSE: I don't know. You use it alongside your normal meds and it makes them work better.
ME: So... it's a catalyst?
NURSE: What's a catalyst?
ME: Will it react with all the medicine I take, or just the asthma stuff? Does it have any side effects? What are the ingredients?
NURSE: I don't know. They gave me a wikipedia page though! Why don't you look it up and tell me what you think?


NURSE: Why don't you try this?
ME: I tried it when I was ten. I'm allergic to it.
NURSE: Oh. **pause** Well, why not try it again? If you have a reaction, just stop using it.

(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:24, 6 replies)
Fags save lives...
a top Harley Street specialist told my dad outright that smoking saved his life.

Admittedly, it's a bit more complex that that, as he actually said "the tar in your lungs caused by the fact you have smoked since you were 10 is probably what stopped the lethal cocktail of chemicals killing you unlike 90% of the rest of the people you worked with, so you've only got Asbestosis and scar tissue in your lungs." Oh how we laughed...and wait for mesotheleoma to kill him at some point when his luck runs out. Got to love working for a chemical plant...
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:18, Reply)
I'll get the repost out of the way
This embarrassing escapade may necessitate a brief description of my appearance. Despite having a thick mane of long, dark hair - at least, longer than is currently socially acceptable for men (fuck you, Waitrose*) - I am a gangly 6'2" or so, with a distinctly non-feminine gait and a large, unsightly corvine nose (hence the screen name).

A few years ago, my flatmate came home looking very ill, describing nausea and a sharp pain in his lower abdomen. He elected to lie down, but after half an hour or so he had vomited twice, and the pain was not subsiding. I, fearing appendicitis, decided to take him to hospital.

We only lived five minutes' walk from Charing Cross Hospital, so I made him walk.

So at reception, because he wasn't registered with this particular hospital, and because the NHS seem to be completely unable to share information across their network, I have to stand at the desk and watch him sweat and wince as he gives the unsympathetic receptionist the details of his parents, their home address, their contact numbers, names of any pets and their medical history, the consistency of his semen, stools and blood and for what it's worth his opinion on the death of Princess fucking Diana, and eventually he is told to sit down and wait for a doctor.

We take a seat at the far end of the waiting room. Eventually a doctor calls for him. He staggers over to this chap's office and is examined. Eventually the doctor says
"We'll have to keep you in overnight. Does your girlfriend want to come through?"
My flatmate is a little confused...
"Oh...him? That's not my girlfriend, mate, that's my flatmate."
"Oh, that's fine, she can come through."
"You mean, he can come through."

It apparently took my friend a lot of effort (in spite of his swollen appendix) to convince this doctor that I was, in fact, male.

And even when I was beckoned over to this guy's office, he had the nerve to say to me
"I'm very sorry, I thought you were female."

This, b3tans, is the state of the NHS: we now have doctors who cannot distinguish male from female.

Length? Evidently he wanted proof...

*Shortest job interview I ever had
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:17, Reply)
The Medical Mystery of Snowy's right foot...
... which puzzled the cream of the medical profession for three weeks

GP One:

Me: Hello, my foot really hurts
Doc: OK, take your shoe off, I'll have a look.... mmmm probably fine, do your shoes up less tightly.

One week later, GP Two:

Me: Hello, I saw your colleague last week and she said it probably wasn't serious, but my foot really, really hurts
Doc: OK.... well it's very unlikely to be anything serious, take some anti-inflammatories and try and rest it

One week alter, GP Three:

Me: Hello, my foot really hurts and your the third person I've seen and it's really, really not getting any better:
Doc: Well, I doubt it's broken but I'll send you for an XRay since it doesn't seem to be getting better

...back to GP Three with XRay results:

Doc: My God, you've broken your foot, did you not notice?
Me: Yes... I did... because it really fucking hurts, frankly.
Doc: Well, unfortunately there's nothing we can do now except let it set, as we didn't spot it earlier.
Me: Brill. Thanks a lot..

I appreciate they see lots of people, with a variety of problems, and generally do good work, but I had a massively swollen foot and a pain that wouldn't go away... it's not like I'm expecting House, MD, but a bit of common sense wouldn't go amiss.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:13, 6 replies)
Unless any of you were also a child in Laindon in the 80's...
...then I expect that I am the only person here that had the Dr that writes for The Sun every Wednesday as their childhood doctor.

I got my youthfull healthcare from Dr Keith...
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:11, 4 replies)
Root canal
Surprised I didn't tell this one when we did dentists a few years back...

I needed root canal work. Oh joy.

It was far too complex for my regular dentist, so I had to go on Fridays to see a Mrs Booth, who had the special root canal hummus and she set to work on my poor, dead tooth.

She also had – which I would imagine being a disadvantage in the world of dentistry – the most enormous bosoms.

For every time she leaned over to insert something into my gob, they would stick to my head, rendering it impossible to see. Or in some cases, breathe.

Each and every Friday for a month, despite the terrifying drills and the industrial vacuum cleaner in my gob, I felt no pain. I lay there in a trance, her enormous cleavage pressed against the side of my head.

"How's that feel?" she asked as I lay there, my world completely blacked out by the sudden eclipse.

I was only supposed to nod my head to indicate I was fine. But no.

"Nice," I replied. "Nice tits."

She completed her work in silence, ramming the final filling home with what appeared to be a large chisel.

"Rinse and spit," she ordered, pointing to the plastic cup of poison pink stuff, "Now LEAVE."

I never returned.

The whole 12" remix of the story HERE, if you can be arsed.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:04, 4 replies)
The best healthcare I've ever recieved
I broke my jaw quite badly (I've got 3 metal plates in my face) and went to Ealing hospital. But due to the appalling state of the NHS they kept fucking around with my operation date so I had to wait a full week without eating or drinking and barely smoking.

I had to sit in a room full of old people, one of which kept trying to nick my laptop in the early hours of the morning.

But I have to admit they done a good job in the end. Even if it did take them a week.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:02, Reply)
My great grandfather suffered massive memory loss in his last years
To the point that he knew who no one was - even some of his regular nurses.

My great-grandmother went to visit him every day, however, and on the day before he died, after having chatted for a couple of hours, he turned to her and said, with all sincerity:

"You're a lovely lady. Would you like to marry me?"
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 12:02, 5 replies)
Doctors don't like me
I like to ask questions. A LOT.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 11:58, 2 replies)
I had a stomache pain.
I went to hospital in agony. I got kept in overnight. My parents stayed with me from around 9pm on a Thursday until about the same time on the Friday.

Then I farted.

And the pain went away.

Surely I could have done that at home?
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 11:58, Reply)
The surgeon had two seperate goes at 'making me jewish'
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 11:56, 3 replies)
My friend told me a story
about when she was pretty much permanently in the cancer ward when she was a kid. Some of the nurses decided to cheer her up and brought in super soakers, buckets of water and so on. They went up to a floor that was being developed and had a massive water fight.

My hospital had nothing like that- it did, however, have a SuperNintendo with Aladdin on it. My brother used to sneak in to the hospital on visiting days and pretend he was sick so we could play together. :-)

(One console between two wards is quite bad. We used to go on missions to steal it from the other kids. There was also a Buckaroo set which we used as a makeshift catapult.)

EDIT: Might as well add some more.

When I was first admitted to hospital for dermatological investigation (aged 7) I had a series of abscesses on my legs that were infected. If you'd looked at me you'd have thought I was well, as I could sit on the floor and play lego with my brother quite happily. The matron on duty came into the room and screamed at me, "What's going on?! Aren't you supposed to be ill?!" As soon as she realised what was going on, a simper of extremely patronising levels appeared. "Ah, so you're the little girl who's here with the itches?"

A completely different nurse was on night shift that week during a massive thunderstorm. There were only three people in the ward that week- me, a kid with a broken leg, and a girl with asthma. We all woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. So we sat on the bed of the guy in traction and the nurse taught us how to play poker.
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 11:55, 2 replies)
After breaking my ankle
And having metalwork fitted, the kind hospital was good enough to give me (for FREE mind) MRSA.

And they wondered why I was nervous about going back to have the metalwork taken out a year later?
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 11:53, 4 replies)
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 11:52, Reply)
Edit: Oh!
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 11:51, 1 reply)
oh dear..... what have I become
(, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 11:51, 11 replies)

This question is now closed.

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