My latest pet hate is “professionals” who deal unthinkingly with the very people they are supposed to be helping.
A few years back my wife was taken to hospital by our son because of a damaged ankle. He was asked to take her by wheelchair to the appropriate place for examination. On arrival a nurse looked over my wife’s head at our son and asked, “Does it have MS?”
I recently had a spell in hospital. One nurse, brandishing clipboard and pencil, approached another at the foot of my bed and asked, “Is bed 14 going home tonight?”
So, my wife is an “it” and I am a “number”. How deep into the gloomy pit of unworthiness does that place us?