During the last few days I must have been in the ER twenty or more times. Before that, over the course of years I'll bet the person I walked in with never spent more than a few minutes on my stretcher before we waltzed in and deposited them in the good hands of the ER Staff. That's literally thousands of calls, transports of all kinds, and "bing" go to the head of the line. I will never take that position for granted again.
I have seen the dark side and I didn't like it one bit. Powerless does not even begin to describe the feeling of desolation and abject uselessness as you sit there in the waiting room, well, ahhh, waiting. But let me back up a moment.
My wife and I were honored to host several of my daughter's college friends for a weekend get away before finals. They had fun, ate and slept too much and finally prepared to depart with me as their chauffeur. Half way through the trip one of the young ladies developed abdominal pain and within a few minutes we decided that a visit to the ER was in order. Cue music from the Twilight Zone.
Name, address, do you have an insurance card? Now what seems to be wrong? Severe stomach pain What's your age? Oh, 17 and are you her father? Ah, no. In loco parentis? Ah, no. Form, power of attorney, verbal approval? No to all. Well then I guess we will just assume she needs care. Cue evil organ music in the background.
There are now four other groups of people sitting strategically in the waiting room. We walk in and are ignored, stared at, summarily dismissed, and given the once over as if we were there to take children from their mother. No one looks sick. I assume that our person, unable to sit without constant movement and moaning about pain, should rocket to the top of the Triage list. I was mistaken.
The kid that was sleeping, the guy holding his finger, no not that one, and the old guy that sneered at us as he walked by to the coveted triage room all were seen before our now laying down and crying young lady. I looked around momentarily for the "take a number" sign worrying that I had missed it on the way from the desk. Instantly that reminded me of a bakery and I realized I would be starved until we sorted this whole mess out.
As my charges vacillated back and forth between school work and abusive comments about the staff I realized that they were planning a coup. The girls marched on the RN receptionist and said "This is unacceptable. Our friend is obviously sick and we have waited an inordinately long time to see a doctor. Something must be done" I marveled at their rookie attempt to intercede for their friend but I also immediately tried to distance myself from the expected volcanic eruption of wrath by quickly grabbing my cell phone and dialing 9-1 as I prepared to seek emergency help for these young and less than worldly girls who were about to be instantly chewed up and spit out by this wily veteran of the trenches.
The woman barely moved as I watched the drama unfold in the reflection of the TV tube, taking a breath and not even looking up from her computer monitor she quietly retorted "I don't know where you're from honey, but in my world you have to be the sickest one here to go next. Please sit down." She made Cool Hand Luke look like a nine year old with A.D.D. I was in the presence of an ER God! They did as they were told.
Eventually it was our turn and with the speed and reflexes of a hockey goalie the ER nurse took in the sick girl spun into the ER and closed the doors in front of the other three friends while at the same time mumbling something about limited space. Not even the Great Gretzky was scoring an entrance in those doors! I made the translation for the distraught crew and they again assumed the waiting position.
Mom arrived from her home hours away. She is an ER nurse and through code words and body positioning she quickly bluffed her way past the receptionist, as if by miracle touched the unknown ER door opening mechanism, and gained entrance into the treatment area. She stuck her head out and asked the girls to come with her. They smiled and Cat Walked past the receptionist without realizing that she knew she held the true power and they only gained access to the inner sanctum of treatment with her unspoken approval. I nodded my appreciation to her and for a nano second I thought that the corners of her mouth were curling up as if to smile, but she immediately regained her super powers and thousand yard stare as she returned to the computer screen.
Blood tests, CAT Scan, poke, and prod and the medical experts, along with the ER Nurse Mom, determined that an appendectomy was warranted and we received notice of such as we completed our return to school.
I now understand the hierarchy of an ER in much more detail than I had ever anticipated. I appreciate the pass I get from the receptionist when I arrive with my patient, and to some degree I can now sympathize with those poor souls watching me walk by with another patient as they continue waiting in "Waiting Room Purgatory." It's now time for bed.
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