(I am having stomach pain, and go to the ER. I am over 40. A very young, male doctor comes in. The bed is only screened by curtains from other people.)

Doctor: “So, you’re having stomach pain?”

Me: “Yes.”

Doctor: “Are you pregnant?”

Me: “No.”

Doctor: “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

Me: “Certain. I’m not pregnant.”

Doctor: “Not everyone knows they’re pregnant. The symptoms are…” *reels off list*

Me: “I’m not pregnant. I’ve had two children, and know how my body reacts. Really: not pregnant.”

Doctor: “Every pregnancy is different.”

(Note: by now, everyone in the ER is listening.)

Me: “I am separated. I haven’t had sex in two years. Even a blue whale would have given birth by now. Not. Pregnant.”

Related:
Immaculate Misconception, Part 3
Immaculate Misconception, Part 2
Immaculate Misconception

(Though I am not due for another three weeks, I start getting very intense contractions. Since it is very late, I call the hospital to let them know I’m coming in so they can have a doctor waiting.)

Me: “I’m just calling to let you know I’m coming in. I think I’m going into labor!”

Nurse #1: “Oh… well, has your water broken yet?”

Me: “No, but I’m having very intense contractions every two minutes.”

Nurse #1: “You don’t need to come in until your water breaks.”

(The nurse then hangs up on me but I head over to the hospital anyway. An hour later, I have given birth to my daughter and am recovering when another nurse pokes her head into my room. Unbeknownst to me at the moment, it’s the same nurse that hung up on me.)

Nurse #1: “Hey, I’m back from dinner! I forgot to tell you before I left, some lady called claiming she was going into labor but her water hadn’t even broke yet. Has she called back?”

Nurse #2: “I haven’t heard anything, but we haven’t been at the desk since we had to help this young lady delivery her baby.”

Nurse #1: “Well, you should have called us, Missy! Then we would have had a doctor down here instead of leaving us to do it by ourselves.”

Me: “I did call. You hung up on me.”

(I’ve just had my appendix out and am only due to stay three days but I’m experiencing such severe pain that I can’t get out of my hospital bed.)

Doctor #1: “Okay you can pack up, you’re going home today.”

(I’m so excited to go home that I try and ignore the pain. An elderly nearby patient over hears my cries of pain.)

Elderly Patient: “Nurse! There’s something wrong with that girl.”

Nurse: “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

(I try to stand but double over again in pain.)

Me: *crying* “I can’t… my stomach hurts too much.”

Nurse: “You won’t be going home today. Pop back into bed, and I’ll get one of the doctors.”

(I get into bed and fall asleep. I awake to someone shaking me.)

Doctor #1: “I thought I told you to go home. We need these beds for other people.”

Me: “My stomach hurts too much.”

Doctor #1: “Of course it hurts. You’ve just had an operation on your stomach. Now get up! We need your bed.”

(I get out of bed and try to get dressed, but I’m in so much pain that I end up falling to the floor and I can’t get up. The elderly patient next to me starts pushing the nurse call button. The nurse runs into the room.)

Nurse: “Oh my God! Did you fall off of the bed?”

Elderly Patient: “No! That little rat of a doctor told her to get out of bed and go home.”

(The nurse runs out of the room and comes back a few seconds later with another doctor who helps lift me back onto my bed.)

Doctor #2: “What on earth happened?”

(The nurse and elderly patient explain to Doctor #2 what happened. He runs out into the hall and we can hear shouting for a few minutes until he comes back in with Doctor #1.)

Doctor #1: “She’s just being lazy! We need that bed”!

Doctor #2: “Obviously anyone in that much pain has something wrong with them!”

Doctor #1: “WE NEED THAT BED!” *storms out*

(After a full day of testing, they find out that fluid had built up where they removed my appendix. I stay in hospital for another two weeks on various pain killers and antibiotics. At the end of the two weeks, Doctor #1 comes up to my bed.)

Doctor #1: *avoids eye contact* “You can go home now.”

Me: “Considering what happened last time, I think I’ll wait for someone else to tell me I can go home.”

(I found out from the nurse later that he had been reported for trying to get other patients to leave the hospital early to improve his patient numbers in the hospital.)

(I work third shift as help desk at a hospital. Power has just completely went out, and we are calling everyone apologizing and getting them on “down time” procedures.)

Me: “Hi this is [name] from IS Help Desk.”

Customer: “My computer stopped working. It won’t connect to anything.”

Me: “I understand. We just lost power, ma’am. I’m very sorry.”

Customer: “I need more warning then that. My job is important. I need to give patients medications!”

Me: “Again, I am sorry.”

Customer: “You need to give me more warning!”

Me: “Ma’am—”

Customer: “I can’t do my job. You gave me no warning.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m currently sitting in a dark room with no power, using my personal phone to light up the work phone enough to make calls. Believe me, if I had any warning to give I would have. Now please, switch to down time procedures because I still have half the hospital to inform of the power outage.”

Customer: “Oh, you lost power. Why didn’t you say that?”

(While at the movies, I have to leave due to a severe pain in my side. It’s so bad that I black out. My friend who is with me calls the paramedics; by the time the EMTs show up, my friend and I both believe I have appendicitis.)

EMT: “Are you pregnant?”

Me: “No, it’s appendicitis.”

EMT: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes. I have never had sex.”

(The EMT gives me a disbelieving look and checks my ID.)

EMT: “You’re not 19.”

Me: “Yes, I am. I have appendicitis.”

(This continues until I arrive at the hospital, where I wait for several hours screaming in pain during which time my family and boyfriend show up. I try in vain to convince them I have appendicitis, but the doctors believe I am pregnant or have a cyst. After four hours, no doctor has been contacted. However, a nurse performs an ultrasound to find the nonexistent cyst/fetus.)

Nurse: “Huh. I can’t find anything.”

Me: “That’s because I have appendicitis.”

Nurse: “That can’t be right. Let’s try again.”

(She tries again and frowns when nothing comes up. She moves the ultrasound up and to my side where I’m clutching myself in pain. Suddenly, I see her smiling and happy.)

Nurse: “Hey! Guess what?! It’s just appendicitis!”

(My ‘just appendicitis’ nearly killed me within hours. The doctor didn’t want to come in, as the nurse had to tell him that yes, it was appendicitis, not some pregnant kid.)

Related:
Immaculate Misconception, Part 2
Immaculate Misconception