Hey, dipshit,
Medicines have different brand names, and you know this. I know you know because when I gave you your hydroxyzine, you asked me the brand name. I remember it distinctly because I said I wasn't sure of the brand names, and let me google it. Oh, look, one of the names is Vistaril. It might have some others, though, because every company calls it something different - just like acetaminophen is called both Tylenol and Paracetamol. You said, 'Ohhhhhhh,' and took the pill.
So why is it that you stuck your head out of your room at change of shift and yelled at the first nurse you saw that you wanted to talk to your doctor because 'that fucking night nurse poisoned me'? The doctor was awfully puzzled when she came in and talked to you, and you revealed that you are allergic to Vistaril because it made you sick and dizzy. She was especially puzzled when you demanded 200mg of Atarax to deal with the panic attack I'd inflicted on you with 25mg of Vistaril.
Because. Those are the same. Damn. Drug. The same! Damn drug!
Oh, and demanding my license because I'd given you medicine without your consent? I was standing by the door, and I heard that long pause before the doctor asked how I'd managed that. It warmed my heart to hear the contempt in her voice after you told her that my handing you a medicine cup with pills in it was force. That doctor has been in the room when I've given medicine. She's heard me read out the medications and ask if those were all okay with my patients. I've seen her roll her eyes when I ask that question. It bugs the hell out of them when they have to wait a few more seconds to do their thing after I've given medication.
So good luck on your complaint, you taint-sucking fecal crust of a human being. I am meticulous and thorough, and everyone knows it. And hey, good luck with tomorrow night. I hope you enjoy your icily polite standard of care, because I assure you, after this bullshit, the next night nurse is not going to be rubbing your fucking shoulder.
Go jump off a cliff,
-Metody
(And the worst part? This wasn't even my worst patient tonight. I am awfully tired of being assaulted.)
Medicines have different brand names, and you know this. I know you know because when I gave you your hydroxyzine, you asked me the brand name. I remember it distinctly because I said I wasn't sure of the brand names, and let me google it. Oh, look, one of the names is Vistaril. It might have some others, though, because every company calls it something different - just like acetaminophen is called both Tylenol and Paracetamol. You said, 'Ohhhhhhh,' and took the pill.
So why is it that you stuck your head out of your room at change of shift and yelled at the first nurse you saw that you wanted to talk to your doctor because 'that fucking night nurse poisoned me'? The doctor was awfully puzzled when she came in and talked to you, and you revealed that you are allergic to Vistaril because it made you sick and dizzy. She was especially puzzled when you demanded 200mg of Atarax to deal with the panic attack I'd inflicted on you with 25mg of Vistaril.
Because. Those are the same. Damn. Drug. The same! Damn drug!
Oh, and demanding my license because I'd given you medicine without your consent? I was standing by the door, and I heard that long pause before the doctor asked how I'd managed that. It warmed my heart to hear the contempt in her voice after you told her that my handing you a medicine cup with pills in it was force. That doctor has been in the room when I've given medicine. She's heard me read out the medications and ask if those were all okay with my patients. I've seen her roll her eyes when I ask that question. It bugs the hell out of them when they have to wait a few more seconds to do their thing after I've given medication.
So good luck on your complaint, you taint-sucking fecal crust of a human being. I am meticulous and thorough, and everyone knows it. And hey, good luck with tomorrow night. I hope you enjoy your icily polite standard of care, because I assure you, after this bullshit, the next night nurse is not going to be rubbing your fucking shoulder.
Go jump off a cliff,
-Metody
(And the worst part? This wasn't even my worst patient tonight. I am awfully tired of being assaulted.)
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