"How many desolate creatures on the earth have learnt the simple dues of fellowship and social comfort, in a hospital." - Elizabeth Barrett Browning
After a very busy week and weekend, I jumped into work on Monday with ferver. I had some projects that couldn't wait even a day longer. Of course, the best laid plans....
Shortly after three o'clock I got a call from my sister Nancy's neighbour. Nan was sick, suffering from vertigo, nausea, headache, sweating and slurring her speech. One side of her face appeared a bit droopy. Julie had called Tele-Health who recommended that Nan go immediately to the hospital but Julie didn't want to call an ambulance without speaking with me first. I told her to make the call and then call me to advise which hospital Nan was being taken to and I would meet her there. About twenty minutes later she called from the ambulance to say they were on their way to Mt. Sinai. I called Cath and we both went immediately to the hospital.
The last time I was at Mt. Sinai was a year ago when my mom nearly died in my car. I remember how responsive the emergency staff was and what good care they gave my mother. I expected the same for Nan. The best laid plans...
During the time we spent in the corridor of the hospital emergency room, I saw many things and heard many stories. We waited an unconscionable number of hours to even be seen and have Nan's condition evaluated by a doctor. She was desperately sick and the general concern was that she had suffered a stroke or a neurological incident. Apart from a perfunctory check by the emergency room doctor at around 5 o'clock, we didn't see another doctor until 1:20 A.M. He told us she was being admitted, he was unsure what the problem was though it was likely not a stroke, and he hoped it wouldn't take long to get her in a room. At 1:30 I sent Cath home. We saw another doctor around 8 A.M. He finally diagnosed an inner ear condition and advised there is no real treatment other than time. He wants to keep her in the hospital for a day or two for observation. We got into a room shortly before noon. By that time we had been in the corridor of the ER for twenty hours.
The Mt. Sinai ER was a veritable zoo. The vast majority of patients were very drunk or very high. They were beligerant, argumentative and at times violent. They also got the rooms where lights could be turned off and patients could have a modicum of privacy. The staff spent the vast majority of their time managing these people. The rest of the patients, like Nan, were stacked up like cord wood in the hall. There was little care offered and little attention given. To our immediate right was a woman with MS who had suffered a fall in her apartment and was in a great deal of pain. To our left was a woman who had an auto-immune disease, the specifics of which were still being determined. Around 2:00 A.M. she had three skin biopsies without the benefit of an anesthetic. I could see her shoulders shaking from the pain. When the doctors had finished I went to comfort her. She was alone, sobbing. While Nan slept with a towel over her eyes to block the bright flourescent lights, I sat next to the woman's stretcher, stroking her head and speaking softly to her. She cried for her pain, for the miscarriage she had suffered a decade earlier, for the distance between herself and her brother, for the mess she felt she had made of her life. She cried at the touch of someone to stroke her hair and tell her it would be alright. On the other side of my sleeping sister, the woman cried and moaned and vomited. An older man with a middle European accent piddled all the way down the hall then peed all over the bathroom floor - three times. The bathroom was right next to Nan. The smell, an endless assault to my sensitive nose. A very drunk man begged the nursing staff for cab fare instead of the subway token offered. Another accused the security staff of being vampires. Yet another accused the staff of stealing his keys and wallet from his blood and vomit covered clothes. And on. And on. And on.
It was a long night. A hard night. The plastic chairs hurt my back. The bright lights hurt my eyes. I was ravenously hungry though there was nothing open where I could eat. I am tired but I will sleep. I will order dinner, too weary to cook. I will be gentle with myself and allow some time for quiet reflection. At the end of it, Nan is okay. I am profoundly grateful.
