Kind Words

Another Saturday working overtime in the ER. So many people, so many problems. One homeless guy, (came in under police escort) who spends the day; he's been taken care of, dismissed with crutches and an aircast, yet he lingers outside the sliding doors, trying to bum cigarettes from everyone going in and maybe even trying to get money for a sandwich. We offered him crackers while he was waiting to be seen. He said, "I don't eat crackers." ???? Security goes out to tell him he can't hang around out front like that smoking and basically begging. He breaks down and cries and I guess tells them he wants to kill himself. All of sudden, he's back in, reregistered, this time under observation. I overhear his social worker talking to one of the nurses. She says he does this all the time; just when you think you've got him up and moving, he throws out a statement like that, knowing what the reaction will be, playing the system. Doesn't that just suck all you fellow tax payers? Then the 20 year old young man who came in by ambulance. I go to register him and he's holding his nose; seems calm, trying to be nonchalent about it all. Says he had a fight with a door and the door won. After I gather his info and get him registered, I go back in to get his signature. A nurse is there with him, his face is pretty much covered with blood and most of his facial skin is hanging from the right side of his face. That was SOME fight! Poor guy! I can't help but mother him while I'm getting him banded and collect his signature. It's workers comp and he is young enough not to know that he should be requesting a plastic surgeon. They stitch him up right in the ER. Looks like the ER doc is doing the work; no plastic surgeon. He may think it makes him look tough right now, but what about 10 years from now when he has a very noticeable scar swirling over his nose and down his cheek? Another guy comes in with a smashed and severed finger tip. He feels the need to show me what it looks like. Work related again. It looks like a sea anemone with bone splinters sticking out in several directions and blood everywhere again. UGH! Next guy cut his palm open accidentally while working with a tile knife. He has to hold his palm together so it won't gape open. Some old guy came in by ambulance with his name tag on him, born in 1916. The nursing home found him unconscious on the floor. Looks like he weighs about 85 lbs. He's apologizing for falling....wonder what goes on in that nursing home? I got more depressed as the day wore on. I really think this is not a good place for me to be in. A family comes in with a good looking young man, about 21, who has suffered several bee stings the day before, again while on the job. He's a landscaper. He is built so fine! He's got swelling and redness from the bee stings and he says he's starting to feel tightness in his chest. His mom is staying close to him, hovering a bit, trying to make him feel better. I can tell she is concerned and anxious. I stay calm and ask him if he had any symptoms the day he got stung, and he answers no, just the immediate pain of stings then nothing. I think maybe mom has made him anxious, or maybe, with time, he's worked himself up, but, just to be safe, I call the triage nurse to take a look. We put him in a wheelchair and he is wheeled back to a room then. His father apparently was disgusted with him because he didn't suck it up and wait til they got home from the scrimmage they just attended. He thinks benadryl would have handled it all. Hmmm, maybe this is why the kid is anxious. Anyway, mom is stuck between the two men; wants to stay with her son, but needs to take dad home so he can go to work. I reassure her that I will look in on her son for her and if he asks, let him know she will be right back. I look in on him a little bit later and he's doing okay, in a darkened room with the curtain drawn and looking a little sleepy. Maybe they gave him the benadryl or something a little stronger. Anyway, no big worries there. We had people with chest pain, more people with cuts, one with chills and fever and one who miscarried. I couldn't wait for the shift to end. Of course H was late so I had to wait for her to make her grand entrance before I could scoot out. As I was walking out the door and across the parking lot, the mom of the landscaper came over to me with a big smile and thanked me for the way I handled their visit today. She said, "You all do a good job in there but you went out of your way to make us feel taken care of and I thank you for that. J probably would have been okay with benadryl but you never know." I said, "Thank you for your kind words. It helps to know people appreciate your efforts. I'm glad he's okay and it's best to be sure. You did the right thing to bring him in." So maybe I didn't do so well with the homeless guy who refused to eat crackers; and the guy who insisted on showing me his brutalized finger with no tip, and some of the others. But I got some kind words from a mother that made me able to square up my shoulders again and get on with my day without being depressed. Thanks mom!