I'd had a pain in my abdomen since Sunday and it was now Friday morning. My regular doctor hadn't been able to help me, so after a sleepless night of moaning and pacing the decision was finally made to go to the emergency room.
There weren't very many ahead of me in the waiting area. But I still had 45 minutes to observe; a lady with a broken hand, a sick baby - possibly with pneumonia, an older lady in a wheelchair that couldn't breath (she was given priority and taken right in), and a few other pale and sickly faces.
After giving my medical history, insurance information, being given a bed, a gown, an IV and after filling a cup, I was wheeled down the hall to have a CT Scan taken. I was surprised that I was being taken care of in such a timely manner. But then I was returned to my room to await test results. I laid there shivering as I listened to and caught glimpses of suffering and trauma as they passed my room for the next two hours.
About every 15 minutes someone would arrive by way of the ambulance. I saw and heard the noise of paramedics as they passed by with silent patients strapped to gurneys. Since the nurses station was right across from my room I heard words like: "diverticulitis", "car accident", "two ambulances on the way".
Finally, the doctor came to deliver my test results. The CT Scan showed nothing unusual and the urine test was negative. She had no idea what the problem might be and suggested that I see a specialist. After all of my worrying and suffering, I was shocked to hear this news. I was now being sent home with no answers or help. If the emergency room couldn't help me, who on earth could on a Friday night!?
In shock and still shivering I hurriedly put my warm clothes back on. I had to wait for my release papers and for someone to take out the IV that was never used. Leaning back in the bed I had another 30 minutes to observe and listen. Instead of feeling cheated that some big illness hadn't been discovered, I gradually began to feel gratitude that I was getting out of there. I wouldn't be admitted, or scheduled for surgery or any more torture.
Finally I was given the okay to leave. On my way down the long hall to the big double doors, I walked by rooms with people in hospital gowns and serious faces. I was the lucky one. I was set free! I was walking out of there on my own two feet!
Walking out through the big double doors, I observed that the waiting room was packed. Every seat was filled and all suffering, anxious eyes turned to me as I gratefully exited. As if to reinforce one last time my great fortune, I passed a car that had just arrived delivering a woman who I was sure would be "taken right in". I won't describe the tone of her voice or the stiff angle of her body or the redness of her face. Suffice it to say, my step was quickened as I made my way to the car. The 4 hours of waiting and the dull ache in my abdomen seemed like a small price to pay for getting out of that place under my own power and driving away.
