Gurney in the Hallway

The only thing wrong with this picture is that it doesn't show all the other gurneys in the emergency room hallway, nor the many nurses, doctors staff, machinery on wheels, or the crowd of people.  It is a very sterile view of the chaos and drama of the real thing.

Yesterday I spent at least twelve hours with gurneys in the hallway of emergency rooms when Gerry injured himself skiing.  It could have been life-threatening, considering that he has only one kidney, and that is what was hurt.

First we went to the Cortland emergency room.  Then they decided to transfer him to Syracuse.  After about five hours in the first emergency room,  they said they were ready to transport him, so I hurried home to get him some clothes (he only had ski gear) and rushed off to Crouse Hospital.  By far the hardest part of the day was the hour and a half waiting in the waiting room for his ambulance to arrive.  I was convinced that he must be in there somewhere in the hall, and I wanted to be where he was!  But they said he was not.

Meanwhile,  I experienced a slice of life I rarely get to see.  The waiting room of the ER was filled with people who are the lost, and indigent, the hurt,  misfits, clearly wounded in a variety of ways.  I sat next to a young man who I later learned was homeless and in need of detox.  (I heard the social worker talking to him in the hallway.)   Eventually,  the ambulance arrived and I was re-united with Gerry to go through the next six hours of waiting, praying, trying to relax, waiting, hoping, watching, listening, trying to rest, waiting, having CT scans, waiting.

Around midnight we learned that the injury seems to be a contusion or bruise of the kidney, and not a laceration, that all bodily functions were working properly, that x-rays showed nothing else broken.  Finally we were released and sent home for him to take it easy and heal.  We thank God that the diagnosis is good and the damage minimal.

I cannot recall a time when it felt so good to be home!