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I Told You to Warm Up before Football!

April 10, 2011

WooOOOoooOOOooo!

I cut in front of the wailing ambulance (Malaysian driving skills FTW!) and screech to a halt in front of the Emergency Department.

“I need a stretcher stat!” I holler. One is promptly wheeled over and I fuss over Badger as he is loaded onto it. Then he is whisked away and I am left behind.

To wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

I want to be a doting girlfriend. I’m very concerned about Badger and his back, but it has been 2 hours without any word. I’m also extremely concerned about my growling stomach – it’s not happy that I missed lunch and is threatening to eat my insides. Besides, the TV is set at a boring channel and my iPhone battery is dying. If this goes on any longer, I might accidentally make eye contact with one of the patients, and end up having to listen to a detailed account of aches and pains. I can’t do that today. I left my Fake Interest Face at home.

My stomach rumbles in warning again. I can sense people looking at me. That settles it. I’m off to lunch. It’s not like Badger is able to wander off anyway.

I enjoy a nice, leisurely lunch then amble back to the waiting room. A nurse is there, waiting to take me to Badger. Hooray!

Badger is in bed, drugged up and dopey. “Where were you?” he asks plaintively. “I’ve been waiting for ages. I kept sending people out to look for you. I thought maybe you’d left and gone home.”

I soothe him. I tell him that I was only gone for a very little while, a teeny tiny while, and that I had to repark the car. It’s the drugs, you know, they mess with your time perception.

He is suspicious, but accepts my story.

A nurse tells us that a physiotherapist and a doctor will come round to check on Badger. And that we should just sit tight in the meantime.

So we wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

It is not too bad at first. Enough happens in the emergency ward to mildly amuse. Like the man in the next bed who is snoring so loudly that everyone walking in stops and stares in disbelief. Or another patient sporting panda eyes and a broken limb – we try to guess if he was in a punch-up or an accident. There is also the disappointment of a male patient who finds out that the pretty nurse won’t be helping him shower after all.

Dignity's sodden death

But mild amusement only lasts so long. After 4 hours, I am ready to smother the snorer with his pillow. Panda Eyes keeps groaning in pain. And the whinging in the ward – Nurse, I’m thirsty! When will I be discharged? My TV’s broken! – everyone is gonna get panda eyes soon! There is also a lingering smell of poo in the ward. I thought hospitals were meant to be sterile! Doesn’t anyone care that we are inhaling someone else’s poo molecules?!

The physiotherapist finally arrives. She gets Badger to do a series of movements and says that it doesn’t seem too serious. There isn’t any nerve damage so it’s probably just deep inflammation and sore muscles. She gives us a list of symptoms to watch out for and tells us to wait for the doctor so we can get a prescription for muscle relaxants and painkillers.

More waiting! This is ridiculous! I start drafting a strongly worded letter to the people in charge about this:

Dear People in Charge,

As a recent visitor (at least, I hope I won’t still be a current visitor by the time you get this letter) to your hospital, I would like to bring a few matters to your attention.

  • Parking: Woefully inadequate. If I had to get to the ER on my own, I would probably die of exhaustion first wouldn’t.
  • Cafeteria: Too far and too crap.
  • Waiting time:

The arrival of the food trolley interrupts my letter-writing. Badger tries to say that he’s not hungry, but I quickly jostle his back and send him into a spasm. Hullo, FREE food! I thank the lady and contentedly devour the meal (under the pretense of feeding Badger – funny how the food never reaches his mouth). The food is a little mushy,  but the fact that it’s free and stolen more than makes  up for its lack of taste. I am happy.

Badger starts getting huffy about the wait but I tell him to be patient. Really, you just gotta understand that the staff are doing the best they can.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. April 10, 2011 10:57 pm

    I always tell folks who are going to the hospital to arrive loaded with a picnic basket, a boombox and a good paperback to while away the time!

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