This is an old note that I wrote on Facebook, but I've always been really proud of it. For the three of you that have probably already read it and are disappointed by not having something fresh to read today, I apologize. For everyone else, enjoy.* * * *
It has been said that life is like a roller coaster. One minute, you’re up and the next minute you’re down. Every once in a while I will find myself in a situation where I feel like the most normal person in the general vicinity which can be a real boost to one’s self-esteem. Sometimes, that place is standing in line at the post office. Other times, it’s waiting patiently at the ice cream counter at the local Rite Aid at two o’clock in the morning. Today, it was the Lehigh Valley Hospital’s Emergency Room.
Before I get started, I want to assure you that I’m fine. I jammed a finger a while ago while playing basketball and it has yet to properly heal. Because I don’t currently have health insurance, visiting the Emergency Room to get an X-Ray was my best option.
I walked through the automatic sliding glass doors expecting to see a woman with a caved in skull or a man who attempted to shake hands with a wood chipper. I would have put money on at least seeing a kid with a bloody knee and tears in his eyes, but I didn’t get any of that. All I was treated to was a black girl in pink scrubs with a room full of empty chairs and a TV set into the wall behind a locked plastic plate blaring on about some former American Idol contestant.
When the receptionist saw me, she handed me a clipboard to fill out and then was reminded by the black girl that she had been there first. The receptionist simply replied with, “I know” as if to say, “There are two of you and only fifty of us. Please be patient.” As I filled out my paperwork, the girl was called to the back. With a look of discomfort, she slowly stood and walked gingerly through the doors towards recovery.
Shortly thereafter, I was escorted through a series of hallways to get my X-Rays. On my way, I passed a dark-haired woman wearing a floral print hospital gown who was taking great caution with each barefoot step. As the woman limped passed me she gently held her stomach with fingers that had inch-long purple claws for nails. She wore an expression of pain and confusion that clearly said, “This baby is about to fall out of me onto this cold floor and I can’t find my room!” From the back of her opened hospital gown a thin clear tube led up to the extended arm of the woman’s overweight, sluggish, late-teen daughter who held the woman’s half-filled IV bag.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that the X-Ray process took a total of five minutes, but when I was finished the nurse escorted me back to the waiting room where it was miraculously filled with people. Although there still wasn’t any blood or tears to entertain me, I did get the pleasure of overhearing a Hispanic woman start a conversation on the provided telephone in Spanish only to yell in English two seconds later that she was using that particular phone because it was free and she didn’t have any minutes left on her personal phone.
After watching a Hispanic teen-mother’s children play with a Lion King book that plays sounds (like they really know what Hakuna Matata means) for about fifteen minutes, I was escorted back into the hospital labyrinth of hallways, senior citizens on stretchers, and wandering expectant mothers being followed by fat offspring (Yes, I did see that dynamic duo again).
I was directed into a solitary room (also known as the second waiting room) that had a bed on wheels and one chair. “The doctor will be right with you.” I waited patiently with my book until a female nurse burst through the door and asked if I had sat on the bed. “I’ve been here for two minutes. Not only did I sit on the bed, I rolled around in it, jumped on it, and rubbed my face on the linens.” I told her I hadn’t and she let out a very audible sigh of relief. She said something about a patient being in there earlier, but she didn’t go into any more detail than that. Hospitals give me an all-too-eerie feeling as it is, but did she really have to tell me that an unoccupied bed in a room that I was assigned to was so unsanitary that I couldn’t even sit on it? She then led me to the hallway where, wouldn’t you know, she wanted me to sit on a bed! There was a curtain divider between my hallway bed and another hallway bed on which sat the black girl in pink scrubs from the waiting room.
It was on this bed that I was able to hear what happened to the girl. Apparently, she was at work (do the scrubs mean she worked at that particular hospital?) when she discovered a “giant” bug. In her attempt to flee the scene, she jumped onto a chair, fell off, and broke her leg.
I was sent home with the reports that my finger was simply sprained and would heal with time. So, after spending the better part of an hour and a half in the Emergency Room, I was left with expecting a bill that won’t pay for anything I couldn’t have done myself. More importantly, though, I left the hospital with a giant grin and a feeling of pride and self-respect.
The next time you’re feeling down about life and you need a natural pick-me-up, may I suggest visiting the Emergency Room?
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