You NEVER Want the ER Staff to be Nice to You

LESSONS I HAVE LEARNED LATELY:
So the moral of my medical story is . . .
You do not want the ER staff to be nice to you. Ever.

To go back to the beginning, PAIN.

Any of you who have ever had a Migraine will vouch that they can be the most painful things in the world (and I have had 3 REALLY long labors, so I am speaking with some authority on the subject). I, among millions, suffer from chronic migraines, but when the pain gets too intense, and the medications they prescribe aren't enough, the hospital can help.

So there I am, flying down the highway in Todd's brand new car, puking out the window as he rushes to the hospital. How terribly glamorous. He arrives, drops me at the ER door, and goes to park.

Cape Fear Valley Hospital serves Fayetteville, the 4th largest city in the state of NC. This is NOT a small hospital. As I stagger forward, I make note of the fact that the line for the ER stretches out the door. All I can think about is the cool medicinal relief that awaits inside. One of the helpful volunteer workers rushes a wheelchair out to me (do I really look that much worse than everyone else in this line?) and hustles me inside.

So, you can't hold a decent conversation while crying. Sobbing is even worse. I was wheeled directly to the nurse's station (certainly I couldn't look as bad as all that, could I?) and my temperature and BP measured. Todd finally returns to translate my sobbing answers to the helpful nurse, and he informs her that the parking lot for ER is overflowing. Wow, what a great day to have a migraine.

Our nurse recommends a CT scan. So we wait in the hallway of the ER for our turn. To my joy, I get to hold my vomit in my portable container, while listening to a drunk homeless veteran blame all the world's ills on all those "Damn New York Yankees."

LIGHTS. DRUNK GUY SCREAMING. PAIN. Oh, im gonna be sick again.

It takes about 15 minutes to get me my CT scan. Todd watches over the technician's shoulder as he mutters "hmmm, that's strange." You never want to be strange, in the ER.

I get wheeled into the back, and the nurse (who suddenly became very nice) has a hurried conversation with the attending. I see them gesture urgently, then kick someone else out of the only trauma room in the ER ~ an honest to god room with solid walls and no sheet dividers. All four ER doctors on the whole floor come into my room. A doc even ran my IV.

The ER Doctors smiled at me reassuringly. It was then I realized: you DO NOT want ER Docs to be nice to you. You want them to be brash, dissatisfied with the importance of your injury. You WANT them to walk away shaking their head at you for wasting their time.

To make an ER doctor feel truly useful, one must have something sufficiently wrong with them to warrent their attention. You know, an eyeball popped out, a limb chopped off. . . or blood in your brain. They were thrilled.

To make a long story short, after calling in Neurosurgeons and Cardiologists, they sent me to Intensive Care, which is a whole different story.