Friday evening on the way back from work, D~ felt unwell. At home she got progressively worse and we hustled off to the nearest ER. At 6 p.m. we walked into a crowded waiting room. For someone watching from the sidelines, the ER is a interesting window into humanity and for the three hours that we are there, I have ample time to watch and listen as folks amble in and out of the ER.
A few minutes after arriving, D~ is triaged and asked to wait until she is called. We amble over to some chairs in the back that are empty.
Next to us is a man who has his arm in a sling doubled over in obvious pain. On the other side a man holds his wife who is slumped over in a wheelchair and throwing up into a bowl. It's not a pleasant sight and I turn my head away. A short while later, he pushes the chair over to the registration window and pleads with the nurse for immediate attention. The nurse politely tells him she is doing everything she can to get a room, but that they are full and backed up and he has to wait his turn. Agitated and frustrated, he sits forlornly holding his wife in his arms. His car blocks the entrance and I offer to park it, an offer he accepts with some relief. I return with his phone and he calls his doctor and asks him to intervene. The nurse talks to the doctor, but her answer is the same - they are busy and he has to wait his turn.
Another woman dressed in a black leather jacket has her head buried in her hands. She is crying softly. A man stands next to her and looks on helplessly. They are waiting their turn just like the rest of us.
Forty five minutes after we arrived, D~ is called in; I choose to wait outside.
A girl, her right arm in a sling walks out with her mother; another, her left arm in an ice pack walks in with her father.
A lady in her mid-twenties is pushed in on a wheelchair by an attendant. She cannot walk, she says. The nurse wants to know how she got from the parking lot to the ER. She explains.
I disappear to catch some fresh air outside and by the time I return, there is not an empty seat to be had. I stand in the back leaning against the wall.
The lady sitting opposite me is there to get blood transfusion. Her sister-in-law strides in with her kid who has severe stomach pain.
A lady walks in and asks to see her husband who was brought in by ambulance from the scene of a car crash. There is no patient with that name, the nurse informs her. She is advised to check three other hospitals where victims of the car crash were taken.
An Indian couple walks in; the wife is obviously sick. The husband walks hesitantly up to the registration window and stands quietly, not knowing what to do. It's probably their first time in the ER.
Another Indian family enters; the wife has a broken thumb.
Two girls walk out; one of them has her left leg in a cast. Her attire suggests that she is a soccer player.
A tall man is parked in front of the restroom that he uses every few minutes. He waits his turn as well.
Three and a half hours after we arrived, D~ is prescribed a new set of medicines and is discharged.
It is a little after nine in the evening when we head home. There are more people coming in and for them a long night beckons.
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