Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Remembered
ERs have a smell, as do ER waiting rooms. Blood, mostly, but there’s always a background of fear-sweat and other body odors. It’s not like most folks have the leisure time to shower before visiting their local emergency room.
It’s all so much more noticeable in the middle of the night. I’m not sure why that is. Meanwhile, from a doctor’s pov, life takes on a clearer hue; You’re there for one purpose and one purpose only. Depending on the magnitude of the emergency, all other body functions take a back seat to getting the job done. You ignore your thirst, your hunger. Most of all you ignore the desire to sleep. Sleep is the reward at the other end of getting the job done.
I miss residency for one thing only: colleagues. Rare is the case that doesn’t benefit from discussion. And so this morning, I felt the need to talk to someone from the U. Any U. But this morning, it was my U, USC.
Shirley, one of my nurses from back in the 90s, took the call. “Is this our Dr. Hoffman?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Is this my Shirley?”
I remembered her, of course. I always remember the pretty ones, and the nice ones, and the ones who mothered me. I suppose she was a bit of all three. Don’t know why she remembered me, other than the fact I tend to be notorious wherever I go. She handed the phone to another nurse who remembered me. She’s the cousin of Jake’s nanny, and she said that whenever they got together they always talked about me (and Jake, of course).
Times like this, I’m happy to be a doctor, even though I’m tired and foggy right now (could only manage five hours sleep after getting home) and worried, too. In TV medical dramas, bad outcomes occur only when there is much angst to be squeezed from the death — wet hanky melodrama. And even then, the tragedy is often temporary. The sting is there for the pulling. In real life, we know that bad things can and will happen to good people, and our only recourse is to do the best job possible. At least then, afterward, we can still live with ourselves.
It would sap the will if good things didn’t happen with the bad. Being remembered helps, too. It isn’t always obvious the impact we have on people’s lives, not just patients, but coworkers, too.
Note that I don’t ask why they remember me. Some things are best left to the imagination.
D.
I can’t resist the opportunity. I have noticed that here in Nashville our four major not for profit hospitals have huge easy to find and easily accessible ER’s. I once had to rush a co-worker to the ER of the flagship hospital of the huge major for profit chain Hospital Corporation of America. Not only was the entrance hard to find, the triage was fierce. It was obvious they were trying to limit access to the uninsured and charity cases without actually breaking the law. Do you have any thoughts about for profit hospitals?
One trick is to not have facilities for labor and delivery — NICUs being a huge budget drain, for example.
I have to say, our county hospital (run by the Adventists) is refreshingly interested in, well, health. My patient last night, they put him straight into an ER bay. No triage, no wallet biopsy. He has insurance, but they didn’t know it and didn’t seem to care.
I don’t have much experience with for-profit hospitals. I hear stories, of course.
I enjoyed this post because I could totally relate to how good it feels to hear the voice of someone who remembers you and thinks of you fondly. It happened to me when I called the right person to see if I could get my old job back. Just hearing her voice was an immediate pick-me-up and made a bleak situation less bleak.
Aren’t you even a little bit curious as to WHY these two nurses remembered you?
Nope. Not a bit. How would I know if they were telling the truth?
Does the truth matter? If they are asked on the spot, most people do tell the truth because they aren’t quick enough to think of a good lie. Just a theory.