True story ⬇️

When I ruptured my pec tendon, I went to the emergency ward. All the staff were Indian, it was difficult to communicate with them.

I waited for 7 hours, then eventually saw an Indian woman GP.

She told me ‘looks like a strain,
you just need rest’.
She then abruptly left the room, leaving me sitting there in front of an unlocked medicine cabinet full of syringes, insulin and opioids.

I assumed she was coming back but I waited so long I got bored and started pacing the room, until I eventually decided to let myself out.

I asked the staff at the admin desk where the doctor had gone, nobody knew what I was talking about. I went home.

Two days later I saw a White GP at a suburban clinic. He sent me straight in for an MRI scan, confirmed complete rupture, got surgery a week later.

When I arrived for surgery, the nurse who puts the drip thing (called a cannula) into your vein was Indian. They do that in the waiting area when you arrive. But when I got to the operating theatre, the surgeon had to re-apply the cannula himself, because the original one wasn’t in the vein properly.

You’re not supposed to notice how unbelievably incompetent they are.