Emergency Room

It was the middle of the night when I opened my eyes and began to visually scan the dark room in vain. Then, the pain started seeping in all at once. All of a sudden my abdomen was being attacked by a very sharp pain; a pain I could only close my eyes very tightly and hope for it to pass. I tossed and turned in my sheets as the hours passed by until the night slowly went by and dawn was now creeping through my window. I dared to open my eyes once more only to be horrified that the pain had worsened. As I crawled out of my bed I could not bring myself to stand up straight because the pain would stab me immediately, reminding me of the restless night I had just awoken from. 

Truth be told, I had had these stomach aches for around three days, but they were not strong enough to make me slouch around my house instead of walking upright. This was definitely more than an ordinary stomach bug, so I decided to go to the doctor. Unfortunately for me it was a Friday and my two primary doctors do not work on Fridays. My mom suggested I go to the emergency room at the local hospital so I would get a somewhat speedy service. Very unfortunately for me, I had a Biopsychology test in an hour that I simply could not miss. But how was I to drive in my condition? Luckily, my mom offered to take me to the university so I could take my test. After I took the test in my personal best time in this class of 45 minutes, I slouched my way back to the car and drifted in and out of sleep all the way to the hospital. 

It was a small hospital, very quaint and all too familiar since about a year and a half ago my grandfather passed away in the same emergency room I was walking through. I still remember every detail of that day because I stood there in awe of what was happening and took everything in. I was abruptly shook out of this flashback by the screeching sound of a woman's screams. She was an older woman in a wheelchair with eyes that weren't all there. She seemed to be frantically searching for a reason for her being in a hospital and after observing her body language, I believe she never quite understood why. The sound of my name brought me back once more. I was swiftly taken into another room for my vitals to be checked. After I was cleared, the hospital protocol demanded I be hooked to an I.V. -still not knowing what was wrong with me. As I looked the other way while my blood was being drawn I heard my name being called once more. This time, there was an obese woman in mint green scrubs holding a chart and pointing at me to come and sit in the wheelchair she was trotting around. With my blood drawn and tightly sealed in a tiny crystal tube, I made my way to the wheelchair and the impatient woman behind it.

As the woman in the mint green scrubs turned my wheelchair around I could see the beds where sick people that where laying there, hoping to get an answer to their sickly prayers. I dared to take a look at the bed where my grandfather passed away. It was taken by an old man that reminded me of my grandfather. It was still the same bed, it was still in the same position, it was still in the same hospital, yet it had been through so many stories and patients-before and after my grandpa died- that it seemed very different now. The moment we passed by the bed and unleashed very vivid memories seemed like a long time, when in reality it was a mere instant. 

After waiting for X-Rays, blood results, urinary specimens, and whatnot, I was exhausted. I was still in a wheelchair, but I felt strong enough to sit down in a normal chair. However, hospital protocol reminded me that I would continue to be in the wheelchair for the rest of my visit. I was wheeled into the emergency room once more and started to look around me at the people who where coming and going. I wondered why were they visiting the hospital? What did they stop doing midday to come to the emergency room? Why where some of these people alone? None of them looked deathly ill or in dire need of medical attention, yet again neither did I and I was the one in a wheelchair. After attempting to do a complete sociology and psychology report on ER patients, I was wheeled back to another room only for the doctor to inform me that I just had a infection. I waited six hours to find out I was not being stabbed in the stomach, but was just fighting a very simple and treatable infection. In the end, I was left with a fifty-dollar emergency bill, a prescription for antibiotics and a amateur, yet complete analysis of the patients that visited the hospital's ER that day.