The dance of the emergency room
I’m fine. Woke up with a sore leg, directed to the ER for some just-in-case tests, and ended up staying four hours as the least critical person there. I was in one of those medi-cubicles in the middle of the main hallway, separated by a half-closed sliding curtain, with nothing but time to observe and listen:
- The orderly who wheeled me to x-ray down a maze of basement hallways, dodging maintenance carts, workers on ladders fixing things above the drop ceiling, people moving at every speed, patients on beds against the walls sleeping off whatever they’d gotten into the night before, with inches of clearance on either side of the wheelchair but navigating with smooth confidence.
- A new doctor melting with questions and gratitude when a senior doctor came by on his off day to check in, and the senior doctor saying ten variations of “you got this.”
- Techs with rolling scanners knowing when to stay a little longer in adjacent rooms to comfort the people in there, and take their questions.
- A patient joking with his wife about the procedure he was about to go through.
- Medical personnel talking in clipped language I rarely understood but somehow still communicating support for each other.
- A nurse who had a telepathic sense of when people had been waiting too long, and would pop in with updates about what was happening, and what was next.
- An admin leading a tour of eight people dressed for a board meeting and/or an upscale happy hour.
- A doctor reading a diagnosis into a speaker phone, a medical translator at the other end speaking back in (I believe) Korean, and the patient being able to communicate detailed questions and responses in the language she was most comfortable with.
- The tech who laughed at the nervous joke I apparently needed to attempt in the moment.
- A dozen codes and announcements over the PA, some of which turned calm flow into calm urgency.
- They have a pneumatic tube system to deliver samples and physical items where they need to go. Maybe every hospital does, but I thought it was cool that a mechanical, non-digital transport system still has an essential role.
It did seem like a dance, the same kind a restaurant with a good crew can achieve during a rush, when everything is working so well their efforts almost disappear from the perspective of the diners. I've known people who made healthcare their career, and the training and formal procedures that make this dance happen take time, effort, patience and a high emotional cost patients usually never see. It's easy to appreciate them at the moment of care, or in large-scale emergencies, but my brief few hours there on a relatively normal day re-opened my eyes to the overt and subtle brilliance of the work they do. If you work in healthcare, thank you.