What's the dumbest way someone has tried to act like an expert? скачать в хорошем качестве

What's the dumbest way someone has tried to act like an expert?

I was sitting in the emergency room with my mom who was having chest pains when this guy in golf clothes started loudly lecturing the nurse at the desk. Everyone in the waiting room froze as his voice carried through the otherwise quiet space. "You need to get my daughter in IMMEDIATELY. I can tell she has appendicitis. My cousin is a surgeon so I know EXACTLY what it looks like." The nurse, who looked like she'd been working for 12 straight hours, tried explaining that triage was based on medical assessment not parental diagnosis. The man's teenage daughter was slumped in a chair looking mortified, clutching her stomach but not appearing in severe distress. "Listen to me very carefully," Golf Shirt Dad leaned over the counter, jabbing his finger at the nurse's computer. "If you don't get her a CT scan in the next 15 minutes, I'm going to have this entire department investigated. I KNOW people on the hospital board." Everyone was staring now. An elderly woman next to me whispered, "That poor girl." The nurse maintained her professionalism but I could see her hands shaking slightly as she typed. That's when a disheveled man in a hoodie and jeans who'd been quietly waiting stood up. He looked exhausted, with coffee stains on his sweatshirt and messy hair. "Excuse me," he said, approaching Golf Shirt Dad. "I couldn't help overhearing. What symptoms is your daughter experiencing?" The father seemed relieved someone was taking him seriously. "Stomach pain, nausea, low fever. CLASSIC appendicitis. My cousin sees it all the time." Hoodie Guy nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting. And the pain - where exactly is it located? McBurney's point or more diffuse?" Golf Shirt Dad hesitated. "It's... in the appendix area." "And has she had a psoas sign test?" Hoodie Guy asked casually. "Of course!" The dad said confidently, though his daughter looked confused. Hoodie Guy turned to the nurse. "I apologize for interrupting. Please continue your work." Then to the father: "I'm Dr. James Harrington, Chief of Emergency Medicine here. I just finished a 30-hour shift and came back because we're short-staffed." The entire waiting room went silent. The father's face drained of color. "Your cousin, the surgeon," the doctor continued calmly, "would tell you appendicitis diagnosis requires physical examination, blood tests, and often imaging - not shouting at our triage nurses who are following evidence-based protocols designed to ensure the sickest patients are seen first." The father started stammering excuses but Dr. Harrington wasn't finished. "Your daughter will be assessed properly according to her symptoms. Meanwhile, there are three cardiac cases, a stroke patient, and a child with respiratory distress being treated. If your daughter has appendicitis, we'll catch it. But threatening my staff because you once watched a medical documentary is unacceptable." The daughter whispered, "Dad, please stop." Her face was burning with embarrassment. The father grabbed his daughter's hand and retreated to seats in the corner, not making eye contact with anyone. As Dr. Harrington turned to leave, my mom squeezed my hand and whispered, "That's actually the doctor who saved your grandfather last year." The nurse at the desk gave Dr. Harrington a grateful look as he headed back through the secure doors. Twenty minutes later, the teenage girl was called in - assessed fairly like everyone else, not pushed to the back of the line despite her father's behavior. The most satisfying part? As we were finally leaving after my mom was cleared, I overheard the girl telling her dad in the hallway: "It wasn't appendicitis. It was just really bad constipation from those protein shakes you make me drink for tennis. Dr. Harrington said I should drink more water and eat more fiber." The look on Golf Shirt Dad's face was worth the five-hour wait.