On Friday night Madelena and I spent four and half long hours in the ER, which she entered listless and with burning skin and glassy eyes. By the time we left, she was bouncing up and down on my chest while whacking me in the head and shouting BABUU, BABUU in a steroid-induced fit of glee. It was 3am, and the prospect of bed was apparently not appealing to her, as I would soon learn. In our long time in the ER I was pleased that — unlike a previous visit — at no time did I feel a need to ask the doctor if perhaps I could speak to their father or another adult on premise. We were treated with kindness, knowledge and just the right amount of appreciation for Madelena's beautiful face and outgoing disposition. And I learned much about the healthcare situation in America from a side I had not expected — the patients who abuse the system, versus the insurance companies and medical corporations that stick you $20 for a Tylenol or deny your surgery claim, without which your foot would still be in the cooler where the other guy on the line placed it after you stumbled into the chipper.
Madelena and I spent some time alone in a two-bed room before a young boy and his mother and aunt joined us. After they turned up Nick at Night loud enough to drown out our viewing of Lady and the Tramp, I abandoned any attempt at cajoling Madelena into sleep. With Will Smith and company loudly going through the motions on The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, they were forced to speak even louder — it was as if they had forgotten that it was they who had turned it up and ultimately had control over the volume of both the TV and their own speech. But it was thanks to this failing that I learned much about them and their reason for being there.
When the first nurse entered to find out why they were there, the mother told her the boy had stepped on a nail and the hole had started hurting a few hours earlier. Then in the course of several other conversations with residents and nurses, it turned out this had happened the week before and had been treated at the ER with both antibiotics and a tetanus shot and in fact no longer hurt. But he had a rash a couple of weeks ago...could they take a look at that? And his stomach had hurt that day and he'd had to take some Pepto Bismol...maybe he needed an X-ray or sumpin', because he'd been drinking the Pepto for most of his life, so clearly there was a problem. And he had a headache - maybe that was related to the foot injury or the stomachache, but someone should take a look at that too. When asked if the boy had ever been hospitalized, the mother replied "Well, no, usually we just hang out in the ER for the night or so."
With those words, I realized that not only did they regularly visit the ER for medical issues that could easily be resolved at a doctor's office during regular business hours, but that for them the ER was perhaps their equivalent of going to the mall and hanging out at the food court. Soon a friend arrived with burgers and fries to make up for the lack of Pup on a Stick outlets in the hospital. When we left at 3am, they were all enjoying the George Lopez show, milkshakes and fries and were reclining in found wheelchairs and the bed. Loud guffaws of laughter emitting from all three adults and the young boy, who clearly had no bedtime on any given night and unlimited access to adult TV. So it was Friday night fun in the ER at no cost to the patient and a whopping bill to the insurance company - that's what I'M talkin' about.
I stumbled back to my car, feeling weak with a need for sleep and relief at Madelena's improved condition. While a burger and fries DID sound good, I know I would much prefer to enjoy that at home or someplace without the odor of Betadine in the air and a chance that any surface was covered with some potentially deadly virus or bacteria. And as much as I had enjoyed the bonding aspects of holding my child for hours, the ER was not some place I would want to spend any more nights, regardless of what's on TV.
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