Blank Patient Registration: Fill & Download for Free

The call usually follows a similar script - a child belonging to a poor family suffering from an ailment needs donation urgently. There is a lot of emotional appeal and extreme urgency. What struck me was the similarity in the phrases they used to appeal for donations.More than 70% of such NGOs are fake and they operate underground from residential areas. When you get a call from them, they also share a patient registration document which makes you think that the case is real.What actually they do is “illegally buy” papers from the hospitals of patients who were operated or deceased and modify them. There are multiple ways to counter check whether the call you got was real fake.Check whether the NGO is registered? NGO Partnership SystemAsked for last 3 years report - fakes will not revert backLook for NGO’s letter head with contact detailsAsking for office phone number - They wont have one.A good board, financial disclosures in the annual report, a fixed address/phone number and an invitation to visit them whenever you like are all indications of a good organisationAsking for patients parents number - Even patient’s parent are not aware of this.If you look at the document scan - Check whether hospital's address and phone numbers are manipulated and altered.PDF do not contain any properties and kept blank.Time difference between : Brief clinical history, Progress Record, Admission Sheet.visit the hospital personally or google Contact number of the hospital, ask them about the patient in Room no (mentioned in the document) and OPD registration number.Asked for TAX Exemption active certificate. Check the validity of the 80G certificate.Bluff - one of my friend wants to become become volunteer of organization.Helping some one is what we want to do but lets not give away our hard earned money to these scumbags.

The rush hour commute from my job in our Connecticut office back to my hometown was unbearably frustrating. It would literally take me sometimes close to 3 hours to drive 50 miles if I jumped on the highway. That drive would push me to levels of insanity that I did not know existed.After doing that drive a few times to visit friends and family in my hometown, I discovered a back road route that was not nearly as congested and saved me a ton of time.One day, I left work with plans in my hometown so I headed toward the backroads that went through a wealthy town in New York. This road lead back to CT, while skipping all of the traffic. The roads were windy and unpaved so you rarely broke 30 mph, but it was still better than sitting in my car staring at rows of unmoving vehicles.I took a right hand turn into one of the neighborhoods like I normally did. As I turned, I saw a cop car pulled over to the side and a Police Officer was standing in the road waving for me to pull over. I pulled off to the side thinking there must have been a tree down or an animal in the road so I waited patiently, listening to my music until the Officer gave me the okay to resume driving.The Officer approached my car and began knocking and signaling for me to roll down my window. I turned down my music and rolled the window down.“License and Registration, please.”Wait, seriously?I complied and asked him what the problem was with utter confusion. I was making a right hand turn in essentially the woods and could not have been going more than 15 mph.“Ma’am, are you aware that you cannot take a right hand turn into this neighborhood?”I gave him a blank stare. “Ummm, no. There are no signs indicating that. Why can’t I take a right hand turn?”He looked down at my license and studied my registration paperwork, but did not go back to enter anything in his car. He looked up and repeats, “you cannot take a right hand turn into this neighborhood anymore.”He still did not answer my question so I asked him again. Why?He cleared his throat, “These are the wishes of the residents of this neighborhood.”To translate, the rich older folks did not want people from my side of town to enter their pretentious community so they hired an officer to intimidate us from coming in.Okay, got it.The officer returned my registration paperwork and license.“Okay ma’am, I will let you go this time.”I smiled, thanked him and politely responded, “with all due respect officer, you will let me go every time. There is no law you are enforcing here.”He nodded and waved me forward.

This, fortunately, was a day I had a long time ago, in an entry-level position in a small hospital's emergency department.It was a bad night. Things were very busy, several traumas arriving at once, radio going off constantly, ambulatory patients with really serious stuff coming in left and right. The staff were handling everything capably and effectively, because it's their job. The patient load was stressful, but it wasn't the problem. The problem was the people in the waiting room.You have normal people who accompany patients...they're concerned for their loved one, they're wringing their hands or scolding or trying to be helpful. Maybe they're really keyed-up and wanting to place a bunch of frantic calls to everyone they know (the word "rushed" gets used a lot). Then you have the needy people. They came in with the patient, but they're not particularly supportive or helpful, and they're hellbent on making the entire episode about themselves. And the balance in the Emergency Department waiting area that night was definitely skewed toward the needy type.So we were racing around, triaging all of these patients and getting their registration done so that tests and medications could be ordered immediately, and the two people assigned to the front are constantly being diverted by a series of bell-ringings, door-poundings and desk-kickings by people in pursuit of utter nonsense. Wanting out/in/out/in/out/in/out of the patient treatment area, trying to smuggle a Big Mac to a chest pain patient. Wanting to know if pizzas can be delivered to the waiting room. Wanting to borrow phone books. Wanting to see if friends of theirs were listed as current patients, getting angry when we wouldn't tell them. Wanting someone to listen to the story of the last time they were injured. Wanting the name of the cute EMT who just walked past. That sort of thing.In the midst of all of this, a woman spotted me behind the desk where I had come to pick up a fresh pen, to replace the one that had just been bled all over by a patient. She hit the "call for emergency" desk bell several times, as hard as she could, and I'd been conditioned to leap to the rescue when I heard it. I came running. She proceeded to tell me that the vending machine had stolen her dollar.I have to confess, I stared at her blankly for a moment. I had just come from some guy who'd had his hand ground to bits in a piece of machinery, and I couldn't make the two worlds meet. She just gazed back at me with this sort of ominously placid look and asked me what I was gonna do about it.I gathered all of the professionalism I had and said, "I'm sorry that it happened. We can't give refunds here, but I believe there's a toll-free number on the machine. If you call them and give them your information, I believe they send you a refund that way." Then, smiling, I turned away, because I had people waiting on me and I had to get back to what I was doing.The second I turned, she started hitting the bell again. I looked back and she had assumed a much more confrontational pose. "The machine took my dollar. I want my money."I glanced toward the little security office across from the desk. Neither of the two officers were in it, because they were in the back assisting with other things. I decided I was on my own. "I'm very sorry. I can't refund the money, but if you call the 800 number, I'm sure they'll be glad to."She pursed her lips. "Fine. Gimme the phone."At that moment, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of one of the desk people returning to the front to grab a form. I thought, if I can give this lady the phone, this other employee can keep an eye on her for a second while I run this chart back to where it's needed. In the back of my mind, I was thinking, "But she doesn't have the number in front of her. Who is she calling? Danger! Danger!". But I decided I didn't care, I just needed to get on with this. I handed the receiver to her and was in the process of lifting up the base and delivering the "dial 9 first" spiel, when the right side of my skull exploded in pain.It was like something out of a Jackie Chan movie. In my memory, it was in slow motion. She took the receiver and gave it a little toss upward, smoothly caught the cord about a foot down, and swung it at the side of my head with all her might. It connected directly with my right temple, a little higher than midway between my ear and eye. I saw stars, bright bursts of light and zigzaggy optical-illusion looking things. I literally reeled backwards. Through the fog I heard her shout something about "my damn money". I fumbled under the desk, hit the hidden security-summons button, and staggered backwards through the doorway into the clinical area, clutching my temple in a cupped hand.The Triage Nurse popped out of a room. I told her that the visitor at the front desk had hit me upside the head with a phone, and that I'd hit the security button. She took that in and said, "Is that the chart for room 2? We just got the ambulance in 3 and I took a chest pain to the back." And off she went. I didn't have much to do but deliver the chart and keep going. Later, the very businesslike charge nurse came to me with an incident report form, which I filled out. I never heard a thing about it again. In the normal world, someone who assaulted someone like that would be led away in handcuffs. As lovely as that mental image was in my bruised and throbbing head, the healthcare world is far from normal. That's just how it goes.As with any job, there were good days and bad days, but life in the Emergency Department is never boring.