the Christmas Spirit

The Angry Black Man was standing over the woman. Christmas lights shone softly on her wrinkled features. She was 95.

"Are you having stomach pain," he demanded, "or chest pain?"

"No, Senor." She said, pointing up and down her left side. "It hurts here. Pero, no es....It hurts for three days."

"Naw B." He said, shaking his head. "Your stomach or your chest...which one is it?"

"Pero Senor," she said, pointing again. "It hurts."

I motioned for him to get started on the paperwork. "Dude, I think I got this."

He looked down at the old woman and shook his head. "Whatever B."

It was a confusing story, I'll admit, and her bad English didn't exactly help, but we didn't need to make the woman angry. Instead, I tried to be polite and listen so as to decipher the exact nature of her complaint. ABM had his own thing going.

We gave the woman some oxygen and made our way to the hospital. When we arrived, the hallway was full of patients and paramedics.The triage nurse was an exasperated looking woman in her mid-forties. She had long, straight hair that hung lifelessly from her shoulders. I waved at her when we stepped into the ER. She saw me and shook her head, muttering quietly. Above her hung large letter cutouts from the ceiling: "Merry Christmas"

The nurse picked up a triage form and sat down at the front desk. Next to her was a miniature Santa.

"I need a new job," she said, glaring at our old lady. "What the hell's wrong with her?"

"It's a little confusing," I said, "but I narrowed it down to left lower quadrant abdominal pain. We did..."

"Ok honey," she said, walking over to the woman. "Where does it hurt?"

The old woman pointed to the left side of her chest. "It hurts."

The nurse looked at me and shook her head. "That's not the left lower quadrant of her abdomen."

Before I could respond, the old woman pointed somewhere else, then somewhere else again.

The nurse's eyes narrowed. "Where does it hurt? You need to tell me exactly where it hurts."

"Yes," the old woman said, nodding her head "it hurts."

"No," the nurse said, grabbing the woman's arm. "Point to where it hurts. Point to it. Tell me where it hurts. This..." --the nurse began pointing aimlessly around the room--"is not good enough. Point. Point to it."

"But..." the old woman stuttered, "it hurts. I.."

The nurse turned towards the desk again. ""This is so not challenging. How do I know if this cardiac or not? Egh.." She sighed. "Did you run a strip?"

"In fact," I said, "we did an EKG and a 12-lead. They both came back as normal, well, borderline sinus brady. But whatever, when you press on her left lower quadrant, it hurts. That's where the pain is coming from."

The nurse continued writing for a few more seconds, then stopped again. "I'm being so unprofessional today, I'm sorry. I just...I need a new job. I'm so sick of this. I hate working triage."

She looked at the old woman again, who was visibly upset, and shook her head. "Put her back out in the hall."

"Alright mami," I said to the old woman, pushing the stretcher into the hall. "They're going to take good care of you here."

She glanced at me, then shrugged, pressing her palms into her cheeks. She began cursing under her breath.

"Take care," I said, patting her foot.

Taking a hand from her face, she made a shoo-ing motion.

As I walked out the door, I passed the triage nurse again. She shook her head, muttering "I think I'm going to have a nervous breakdown."

Outside, it was a cold night; and it didn't feel like Christmas.

Comments

[Doc Shazam]

So, did you find out what happened? Did she have a perforated diverticulum? You did a good job, regardless. The triage nurse sounds like one of ours. What a great portrayal of her. She's right, though, she needs a new job.

[aidan]

i enjoyed reading this post... i wanted to point to where that lady hurt, she was so frustrating to listen to! diverticulitis?

[Tyson Lewis]

Naw. Never found out what was wrong with the lady. But the nurse, yeah, she was a classic case.