We were above Dublin. “Hon, you’re looking pale,” my mom said. It’s not like I could call my doctor—or could we? Again we buzzed the attendant, who returned with a satellite phone. I said, “Thank you, now I can call my physician.”
She looked at me sternly. “You’re not calling your doctor,” she said. “I’m calling our doctor.” We were stunned…
“I have a Nexium,” a male voice said from two rows back.
I exhaled. “You are a life-saver,” I said.
“You can’t give it to her,” the flight attendant told the man.
I turned to Nexium Man. “You’re going to give it to me, right?” I pleaded.
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I’m a pilot for this airline and whatever she says…goes.”
Disgusting.
It’s hard to fathom a sick passenger not being allowed to accept a medication from another passenger.
I’ll preface this by saying that flight attendants are some of the most frequent targets of abuse from rude passengers.
That said, their response here and in some other circumstances is ridiculous. I’ve never seen an industry more obsessed with enforcing pointless rules.
Ditto Nancy.
I also feel sory for the flight attendants. But we don’t need cookbook medicine in the friendly skies.
WTH