Velvet Verbosity

I just realized that even though I posted twice yesterday that it doesn’t excuse me from not posting today, and now I only have 37 MINUTES before the clock strikes midnight! I’m a little behind the ball since I spent SIX HOURS in the ER this afternoon-evening. My son, henceforth referred to as Evil Knievel, got into an accident on a friend’s dirt-bike.

“This is why I didn’t have boys!”, my mother would say.

I think it’s a little late for that.

I learned some things about emergency rooms. What else was I going to do for six hours? My laptop died after two and Evil Knievel fell asleep after three. But first, a question. Why do they call it the Emergency Room? It is not a rooooom. It is a maze of hallways, and desks, and yes, rooms. ROOMssssssss. Plural.

Now for what I’ve observed.

Our small town ER was pretty busy this afternoon. Since Evil Knievel only had three broken bones he was not a priority for a room, so we were given a nice hallway bed. Actually, he got the bed, I got the wall to lean on, until I accosted a housekeeper and asked where the nearest chair was so I could get it myself.

As I stood/sat there in the hallway I saw several nurses walk by. The same nurses, over and over. Nurses who had taken Evil Knievel’s vital signs, asked questions, examined all his sore places, and set up his paperwork. They knew us, and as the hours ticked on, they knew just how long we had been there. They were all well-seasoned, experienced nurses. Then, there was the new guy. The new guy made eye contact when he walked by. The experienced nurses did not make eye contact. They knew, when you work in the ER where no one really knows how long you’ll be waiting? DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT! It will only slow you down to have to answer questions that you do not have answers to. Poor new guy. He’ll learn.

I also learned that the old adage that the squeaky wheel gets the oil is true. I saw it in action. It was the most annoying patients that got out of there in under three hours. Yeah. Like the guy in the room next to our hallway? He had been waiting an hour and a half (we were well on three at that point) when I overheard this.

Nurse: I know you’ve been waiting a while but you’re next in line.
Cranky McCranky Pants: No I’m not. Don’t lie to me.
Nurse: No, you are. I don’t know how long it will be but you are next.
“I’m miserable and so shall you be”: Whatever.
Nurse: Can I get you a blanket?
What a Jerk: No. Don’t worry about me. I’m just in pain. I’m not important.

He was outta there within the next 30 minutes. Him and the little old lady who kept moaning like a scorned sea demoness, and the 20-something who wanted narcotics and cursed at the doctor when he wouldn’t deliver.

The final thing I learned is that when you sit in the hallway for six hours, not uttering a single complaint, but inquiring kindly now and then as to when you might expect a doctor, you get the best treatment they can give you. You get a free cup of coffee with four sugars and lots of cream. You get people wishing you well when you leave. You get a little bit of extra attention when they can give it because they’re just so grateful that you’re not screaming obscenities or having the gall to almost die on them. And you don’t turn them into serial nurse killers like Kristen Gilbert. And that’s a good thing.