L'HÔPITAL.

*A note for those who seldom visit emergency rooms: the experience is nothing remotely resemblant of Grey's Anatomy*

It is 6:15 p.m. on a brisk October evening. Throughout the halls, the nursing staff exchange muffled medical jargon—most voices are those of young females, and occasional male nurses chime in. The faded peach walls of the hallway line an equally dull pastel-beige tile floor. The air is unnaturally sterile and dry with the smell of disinfectant soap with a hint of what might be your everyday Clorox wipe.

Each of the several first floor rooms are separated by what one could only describe as an oversized shower curtain. The stale linen of each divider makes no effort to hide its age and would perhaps benefit from a thorough lint-rolling. Black cords, wires, and other various medical paraphernalia adorn the walls, taunting each patient that lies in a bed below with the possibility of an invasive procedure. Each bed lies in the center of its curtained room and is blanketed with thin, white sheet. In the corner of each section dwells a pristine counter with a sink and a few cupboards. It orderly stocks expected, usual medical materials—cotton balls, popsicle sticks, bandages, and some disinfectant wipes of some sort.

The somewhat calm, monotonous ambiance is quickly corrupted as an elderly, pony-tailed man is quickly wheeled down the hallway—in too quick of a fashion to really obtain a clear image of him. The nurse addresses him as Dale. Behind the privacy of the curtain divider, you can hear the nurse struggling to transport Dale from his wheelchair to his hospital gurney. Several hacking noises suggest Dale is not well and possibly vomiting. In his scraggly, high-pitched voice, Dale attempts to excitedly exclaim, “I’m just so cold!”

            

In the same decibel, that is somewhat painful to listen to, he calls out for a heated blanket and as his request is not met in what he considers a timely manner, his temper flairs. He yells obscenities to the nurse, who has now been identified as either Karen or Kathy—it is hard to tell from Dale’s obstructed voice.

            

“I’m doing everything I can, Dale. You need to help me help you,” the nurse explains. You can tell she is holding on to her patience by a quickly weakening thread. Annoyance stains the tone of her voice as she just barely manages to communicate in a calm manner. Dale genuinely apologizes but quickly shifts back to his frantic state when his request for a blanket is again not met. He continues to direct vulgar names at the nurse whose patience continues to ware.  Her job is now done with Dale and she can leave him for the doctor to deal with.

Now outside of Dale’s view, she adjusts her teal scrubs and lets out a sigh of relief for she can no longer be hackled by the ruthless patient. A young, 20-something brunette girl named Michelle, who’s divider remains open, calmly lounges in her hospital bed and sympathetically smiles at the nurse. This patient’s room is adjacent to Dale’s and she has been able to listen in on the entire frantic exchange. The nurse smiles back in a way that suggests she is pleased someone may have at least an ounce of appreciation for how hard she is working to keep it together.

The nurse is probably in her late 40s or early 50s and has tired, caring eyes and dark blonde hair scraggly pulled into a French braid. She is small and moves quickly on her feet—a trait that comes in handy when Dale’s call button repeatedly rings, dominating her hallway sanctuary. She is forced to quickly return to the distressed patient’s side. Dale is now warm and would like the nurse to remove the blankets but the middle of this request is interrupted as he coughs and gags again in a way that is suggesting he is about to spew vomit. The sound is blood curdling and unsettling.

Michelle winces and shrugs in discomfort. Her piercing blue eyes close and she uncomfortable plays with her long, dark hair. You can tell she feels extremely unfortunate to be placed in the bed next to Dale’s. She looks away and tries to distract herself from the chaotic, grotesque scene that is taking place on the other side of the curtain. Luckily (or unluckily) for her she can be further distracted as the nurse come in to draw some blood.