I have never been one to feel comfortable around doctors. This has been the case from very young girlhood. You see, I was a rather sickly little girl. I had very severe asthma , and several times caught pneumonia . As a result, I have a thousand mental pages full of the memory of being poked and prodded and lied to by medical personnel.
And so as I walked int Summit Medical Center, the little girl in me began to wail, “Oh no, I don’t want to be here – take me out of here”.
As this mantra rattled in my soul, My adult persona, approached the registration desk and said in a clam but unhappy voice, that I was here to register to see a doctor, that I was having chest pains. I guess I didn’t look ill, because the gentlemen at first asked me if I was here to support someone in the ER. I said, “No, I am here to see a doctor.” He asked me to fill out a form and give it to him. I sat down and completed the form, handing it back to him and sat again, watching the as the registration desk changed shifts. Gentlemen leaving and woman arriving – I realized that my entrance had fallen into a black hole. I realized that he has not looked at my form – simply passed it on, and as a result no one was directly aware that I was here with a complaint of chest pains.
I watched this happening through the fog of my childself’s helplessness, to her there was nothing I could do. I was told to wait and I was waiting. They would figure it out – and they would get to me. Tears were beginning to form in my eyes and I remember hanging my head. The arrival of my good friend, Shekinah woke me from this despairing.
She was returning from parking the car, she sat beside me and took my hand. her touch woke me, and brought me into the present – I began to say to her ” you know , folks have died because they have walked calmly into an emergency room.”
She said, ” yeah, I guess you have to be dragged off an ambulance to get swift attention.”
Yeah, “I said dreamily. “I guess so.” My chest hurt, my brain was dulled, yet slowly reality was returning – and another voice, a stronger one prodded me . I heard again – “people have died patiently waiting their turn in emergency rooms!
I slowly got up and walked to the desk, where I was greeted with warm smiles – I introduced myself and said to the new staff, calmly but with a tremble in my voice , ” I am here with chest pains.” I could see that immediately both women became very intent, one touched my hand and the other immediately went into the triage area. The women who touched my hand said, ” don’t worry, we will get triage out here right away”. I nodded and so it was that within 2 minutes, I was called in.
I write about this moment because it is the only time in my 5 hours at Summit was there was anything close to a lack of care. From the moment I entered triage, I report the most considerate , compassionate and professional of service.
i am very happy to say this, because my childhood experiences as well as my experiences ans a birth doula, have profoundly affected my opinion of health care persons. I have seen first hand cruelty, disrespect, overt racism and abuse – more times than should ever be possible in hospitals in the most powerful county on earth – and directed towards birthing women, some of the most vulnerable persons in our society.
And yet, on this day, I was being compassionately questioned by the woman in triage – as to what was wrong, where was my pain, when did it begin – what steps had I taken, etc. She praised me for taking an aspirin when the pains began and said that was a very smart thing to do. (this pleased my inner child.) I asked her what the next steps were and she said that an EKG would be ordered and based upon that, we would know where we stood. She told me not to worry – that they would take very good care of me.
It was at these words that tears again flowed freely down my cheeks – and again the kind woman touched my hand, “really” she said -” don’t worry.” I nodded and got up to return to the waiting area.
Take care of me, take care of me, was that possible? She’d said that they would take care of me… The last few years of my life have been the most stressful of any since my childhood. I have had to whether the end of a marriage, the incarceration of a son, accepting the full time guardianship of my grandchild – and potential loss of my home, and the struggle to continue my midwifery apprenticeship, I have been brave, I have been strong – I am admired. But cared for, I have not felt. How dangerous that might be for stressed out persons and how enchanting it might be to just be sick always – just to have people willing – to take care of you!
I sighed and let that thought pass through me.
(to be continued)