An Emergency Room (ER) is not really where this story begins. I had an intestinal concern and went to a City MD clinic. After being sure to know which way the flimsy, cotton garb was to be worn – open in front, I met the doctor. I explained my situation and upon her hearing I had vomited, the doctor requested an EKG! I asked why are we worried about that when it’s the other end of my digestive system causing me concern? Apparently, now vomiting females are tested further with an EKG to be sure their heart is okay. Who knew?

The doctor reports, heart is fine, but I should go to a hospital’s emergency room for further tests. I know my jaw dropped and I probably said, are you kidding me? My expectation was a pill to sort out my intestines … like for H. Pylori or some other bacteria to be knocked off. The doctor said, “If you were my sister I would want you to go to the hospital ER.” Despite the fact she is at least 40 years younger than me, I listened to her and went to a hospital.

The hospital staff were very efficient in getting me into the emergency room. I was assigned 20L. Once again provided with a flimsy, cotton garb – oops, open in back now – and begins a parade of various personalities and medical staff. 

The resident doctor arrives with a female chaperone to ask initial questions and conduct an exam. He announces his departure so as to report his findings to the attending ER doctor. Fortunately I am not in pain, yet I am hungry since I had not eaten since the afternoon of the previous day. The headache begins.

The next person is a nurse who takes the vitals and sets all up for another EKG. Apparently one EKG taken an hour ago is not enough. We discover our birthdays are days apart and she finds my van travel fascinating. Every person who now interacts with me and the nurse are recalling Nomadland, the film and the book regarding a woman who lives in a van, etc … I will assume you know the story.

The attending ER doctor stops by to report he is planning a CAT scan for me. He looks like he is 18 years old. He may be 35. I wait hours. Despite the bright hospital lights, I decide to turn my attention to the television with a slightly dimmer light glare. It does not help watching the Food Network to pass the hours as I am getting hangry …. the term for hungry and angry that has come to our lexicon in the last century. Did I mention I have a headache?

I think I am just short of annoying the aides about food or getting me to the CAT scan. Finally, I am wheeled to a hallway in position number 2 for a CAT scan. At least a half hour goes by and someone gets wheeled right past 2 of us and into the room for a scan. WHAT!?! The guy in front of me had already complained about the bright lights bothering him and his wanting to cancel his scan because it was taking so long. A hospital person calmed him and then he says to me, “I could have called the person an A-hole, but figured I wouldn’t get any further”. I let him know I was proud of his self-control in this lousy situation. Soon we both had our CAT scans done.

Back in cubicle 20L, I have a person connecting me to what I think is saline solution. Every hospital employee before they talked or did something to me, would check my wristband for my name and ask me for my birthdate. So did this hospital employee. The person finishes hooking me up and the aide on the other side of the sheet in cubicle 20 asks, “Is anything there for Mary here?” Big oops, this was to be going to that Mary!!! What are the chances of two people with the same name being next door to each other … pretty good from what I see. Out comes that connection from my arm. A little time later I get my saline solution hooked onto me.

The attending doctor returns to break the news to me. I must wait at least an hour for CAT scan results to get to him before they know what food I can eat. I set my timer on my watch. So glad I carry a power bank as my phone was dwindling in its energy.

Just under an hour, the resident doctor now arrives to tell me I need to stay the night for a procedure the next morning. Whoa, what!?! After much discussion, I understand nothing is going to change the situation especially as he adds, “If you were my family member, I would encourage you stay the night.” Well that is easy for him to say and it must be how we are training doctors to have more humane bed-side manners, but I want out of here! The multitude of alarms, flashing and bright lights are getting to me and I saw an exit on the horizon … but I guess not! Does that mean I can get some food? Clear liquids, yes. Would you like orange jello or apple juice, I am asked. Really? You know I have a really, really bad headache!

Next folks to stop by are checking butts to see if I have bed sores. I must have looked at them incredulously. When they learned I wheeled myself and the saline solution stand to the rest room and back a few times, they decided I had none or at least no need to check this hangry person’s butt. The orange jello didn’t come yet thankfully my nurse got me some. I overheard the hospital rooms were full, so I asked my nurse if I would be sleeping in the ER. Answer: possibly could happen.

I am crazed! Fortunately, I had no pain, but to continue my travels I needed this intestinal issue solved. Then delightful, young ladies gladly handed me my overnight stuff: toothbrush, toothpaste, puzzle book, pencil, eye mask, earplugs and socks with sticky bottoms. My depression is surely kicking in and orange jello is really not a headache solution for me.

I cannot remember all the texts I sent my friends and family throughout the entire ordeal. I’m staying the night. I am depressed. Words of encouragement did help. Offers of others to come with whatever I needed. What I needed was to be out of there!

Finally the Gastrointestinal (GI) doctor arrived. The GI doctor says I am not staying the night as a colonoscopy cannot be done until 8 weeks after taking 2 antibiotics for 10 days. Yippee I am out! I could not agree with her more! No GI person would want to puncture an intestine, even tomorrow morning, so let it all calm down on drugs before any colonoscopy!

Well not so fast. I notify family and friends, put on my clothing, and share the update with my nurse. I ask my nurse how many hours she is working on this day: 12.5 hours. Good, she’s not leaving me yet! And how does she put up with the lights, alarms on machines: disassociates from it all. Hmmm…interesting work environment.

An aide says they’ll be some tests done before I leave so I ask for more of that awful orange jello. They said they would get real food but at the rate anything is happening I do not count on it.

I wait and wait, literally hanging half my body into the hallway. I ask an aide who it is I am waiting for. Someone in orange scrubs. I look both ways and see no one fitting that description. Then another medical doctor arrives. She is looking at her phone and tells me she is in the process of admitting me!! I lost it!! I believe I screamed at her, told her the GI report and that I am soon to be out of here. She left and returned soon apologizing. The GI report finally reached her. Wow, what happens if a patient has no memory?

While hanging out of my cubicle, I watch 2 women walk by and think, do I know that person? A few minutes later they walk back. Then I asked if I knew the one woman. Yes, small world, a friend of one of my sisters. We commiserated about being in the ER and just what were the chances to bump into one another!

Next time my nurse swings by, I let her know the latest info. She checks her computer and I am correct. Since I am still waiting to be discharged and indicating distress with all the noise and lights, she tracks down the discharge paperwork, goes over it with me and gets me discharged. Hoorah! Now to the pharmacy in town to get my meds … and hopefully never return to an ER again!