I once waited in the emergency room of the Royal Victoria Hospital for eight hours, doubled over in pain with unexplained uterine bleeding. Emergency rooms, as I found out, are frequented by a vast assortment of psychotics and senile persons, probably on unsupervised leave from the neurological ward.
One of them proceeded to tell me that I put on "a good show" and that "they" were going to stick needles in my arms, but that I was a whore anyway, so it probably wouldn't bother me.
Considering the personal and frightening nature of my injury, this casually insane comment still sticks in my mind.