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I had to take our two-year-old to the ER last night at about ten o'clock. Turns out he just has croup, but when he woke up he seemed not to be able to breathe, and we didn't want to risk waiting until morning to see his pediatrician. So to the hospital we went.
I'll cut to the chase and say that he's doing fine and should be fully recovered in a few days, but that's not quite what this story's about.
In the past, we've had generally good luck with this particular ER, especially with our kids, because we've always gotten into an exam room in under twenty minutes, and the care has been entirely satisfactory.
Last night, though, the ER was packed, and we had to wait a while before we even got to talk to the triage nurse. After that we went to the admitting desk, and then a brief stint with yet another nurse to take his pulse and temperature. Then back to the waiting room to wait.
And wait. And wait.
I don't know if you've ever had a two-year-old strapped into a stroller in an ER for three hours, but after about 45 minutes it got really hard to entertain him. To his credit, he held up admirably well, especially when an ambulance pulled in and he got to see the flashing lights.
About two hours after we got there a young woman came in nearly doubled over. She was crying and holding her lower abdomen and also clutching her forehead, and she was actually shaking from the pain. She appeared to be alone, and after a brief chat with the triage nurse, the woman sat down to wait. The small room had about 18 people in it, and we'd all been waiting for quite some time by this point, but a glance around the room confirmed that we'd all reached the same conclusion; whatever brought us to the ER, it wasn't as bad as what brought her. So one woman stomped up to the admissions window and demanded that the pain-wracked woman be seen immediately.
The triage nurse then seemed to notice the woman for first time and told her to come back to an exam room. We were shocked that they didn't give her a wheelchair, but--sobbing--she made it back there, and that was the last I saw of her for a while.
Eventually my son and I were taken to an exam room, and a doctor checked him out pretty soon thereafter. While I was waiting for a nurse to bring my son's prescription, I saw the woman who'd been suffering in the waiting room. She was being pushed in a wheelchair, and she was smiling--clearly in relief, rather than happiness--but I was glad that they'd done something to lessen her pain.
I have no idea what was wrong with her, of course, but it was strangely comforting to see a bunch of total strangers silently agree that one among us deserved to be bumped to the head of the line. To be honest, I was surprised, but maybe we're not all the selfish brutes that we sometimes seem to be.
After all, have you ever been to a deli that doesn't have a number-dispenser? It's pure angry chaos.
But last night in the ER, at least, a few people got it right, so maybe there's a reason to hope...
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