Waiting Rooms, Rude Receptionists, and the Old Lady Who Had My Back

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve written about this, but somehow it never gets better. If anything, it keeps getting worse: healthcare workers’ attitudes.

Now, before anyone comes for me with a pitchfork, let me make this clear—I know how hard their jobs are. I’ve met some absolutely phenomenal humans during my twenty-year health circus. Gentle, kind, patient, and genuinely invested in people like me, the chronically ill frequent flyers of the medical system. But here’s the problem: those unicorns make up maybe five percent of the medical workforce. The other ninety-five? Well… let’s just say they’re a little less angelic.

Quick shoutout before I start swinging: hospital nurses. I have yet to meet a hospital nurse with a bad attitude. Seriously. I’ve watched them take abuse from patients, families, and even doctors, and somehow they still keep going with grit, compassion, and maybe a little dark humor. Most of them clearly love what they do, and it shows.

But then there are the others. The ones in doctor’s offices and medical groups. The receptionists. The front desk staff. The ones who act like the absolute worst part of their day is… you.

Case in point: receptionists. If they actually look up when you walk in, it feels like winning the lottery. I always start with a smile and a cheerful, “Hi!” The response? A monotone “Name?” without so much as breaking eye contact with their computer screen. It’s as if my very existence is an inconvenience—like I’ve interrupted their sacred TikTok scroll. And heaven forbid I mess up their $90 gel manicure with the audacity of… needing to be checked in.

Then there’s the whole name-and-date-of-birth ritual. I hate it. I don’t need the entire waiting room knowing my personal info. So, I got clever: I type my name and DOB into my phone’s Notes app in massive font, hold it up, and boom—no shouting. Some receptionists even told me it was genius.

But on my last visit, it backfired spectacularly.

I held up my phone, expecting the usual nod. Instead, the receptionist squints at it, then at me, and says, “And what are you showing me?”

“My info,” I reply.

“And what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Uh… check me in?”

“And why can’t you just say it like everyone else?”

Cue deep breaths, me smiling to keep from snapping, and preparing to calmly explain—when out of nowhere, an elderly woman in a wheelchair becomes my unexpected hype squad.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Are you really this dumb, girl? He doesn’t want to yell his personal info for the whole damn room to hear. Can’t you fucking read? Just take the man’s info and check him in!”

The waiting room erupted in laughter and applause. The receptionist stormed off, announcing she didn’t have to “take this abuse,” and her manager came out to clean up the mess. When I showed the manager my phone, she smiled and said, “That’s a great idea!” and checked me in like a normal human being.

Meanwhile, the old lady shouted after the receptionist:

“Good! Get the fuck out of here, you woke-ass piece of shit!”

I swear I have never been more grateful to a stranger in my life.

And here’s the thing: as patients, we don’t ask for much. We know healthcare is stressful. We know people are overworked, underpaid, and burned out. But kindness costs nothing. Compassion is free. And the tiniest bit of humanity can make a world of difference to someone who’s just trying to survive another doctor’s appointment.

So here’s my plea: if you work in healthcare and you’re reading this—please, remember that patients aren’t your enemy. We’re not trying to ruin your day. We’re just trying to make it to tomorrow.

And if you’re a patient? Maybe bring an old lady in a wheelchair with you. Trust me—game changer.

Now it’s your turn: Have you ever had a healthcare worker treat you like an inconvenience instead of a human being? Or maybe you’ve had your own “angel in scrubs” moment that kept you going? Drop your stories in the comments—I’d love to hear them. And if you’re new here, hit subscribe so you don’t miss my next unfiltered rant on life, illness, writing, and everything in between.