A week ago, I found myself in the emergency room. I won't bother with details. I'm alive and will never be healthy; c'est la vie. What I found most disturbing is the fine line between being compassionate and logical.
Doctors and nurses alike were yelling at patients. They were abrupt and then invisible. I understand they need to get all the pertinent information from a patient without incessant rambling. I understand they were short staffed. The old woman that was vomiting, shitting herself in the bed next to me and asking for help in a panicked voice did not understand.
I do understand. She can be washed, hydrated and will live. Those with heart attacks, stab wounds and whatever else was rolling in ambulance by ambulance may not have. I was in Rapid Assessment Emergency, (nine hours later that name was an irony unto itself), and I saw the nurses from my partially curtained bed. They were getting coffee, flirting with doctors, chatting about some damn cheese festival and complaining about patients. I can't shake it.
It isn't the hospital system. It's my society. It wouldn't have taken much for any nurse to stop for a second and tell the old woman that she would fine and the doctor would see her soon. I didn't say anything either. I feel sicker now than when I went in.