Hell Will Be An ER Waiting Room

On Friday I had to go to the emergency room. Before I made the decision to go there, I called my doctor's office and pleaded for a last minute Friday morning appointment. I asked if they thought that it could just wait until Monday...

No.

So, I got dressed - very slowly - in my emergency room best (re: comfortable) and let the Hubs know that it was time that he drove me to town.

I really did not want to go there, but figured that it wouldn't be that bad since it was early in the morning (around 8) on a Friday. People have jobs. Children have school. I would be out in time for lunch.

No.

I sat in the waiting room for 6 hours. 6 hours.

Aint' nobody got time for that.

Please note: Someday, I would like to go into emergency medicine. It's actually been a goal of mine to pursue that path for many years, however, looking at this mess of people through a patient's eyes, through a pane of glass covered in pain and anxiety?

I hated them. I hated every single last one of them. I am not ashamed to say it, even now, even speaking as someone who is supposed to be a Christian. I hated those idiotic people. They stood between the soulless void of waiting room Hell and the Promised Land of doctors, nurses, and people with good drugs that could help me not feel like I was dying. And that, friends? That is the way you should feel everyday - like you are not dying.

Unless you are in the emergency room. Then you should see the grip of the friggin' reaper on your shoulder because I swear to God, it is not an emergency otherwise.

A few notes:

Dear New Mom,

Your baby has a rash. Most likely from the detergent that you are using. I know that you have taken her to your doctor 2 times in 3 days (because you were kind of loud on your phone). He said that it would go away on it's own. Your baby does not have a fever, a cough, or even a sniffle. She's pretty darn cute with her giggles and smiles. Take her home, enjoy her, buy a different laundry detergent. You do not need the emergency room.

Dear 90 Year Old Lady,

A. Get a better hearing aide or turn yours on. The shouting coming from your daughter/helper person is irritating me. 
B. You are 90. You are probably dying. It's been a full life. Go home. 

Dear Sorority,

You all irritate me. Mandy probably has mono (BTW, I was totally right on this diagnosis, I will take that medical degree, thankyouverymuch). She is not going to the beach with you this weekend, and she is probably not feeling all that "down for shots later." Give her fluids and space to sleep for the next week or two. Take notes for her in class. Take her to the student health center to see if she needs medication. Most importantly, take her home. 

Dear Mexican Man,

You have been here all day. They have repeatedly called your name. Is your English so bad that you cannot understand when they call it? I give up on you.You can continue to sit there because you, apparently, do not want to go to the promised land. 

Dear Lady with the Broken Toe,

I have had broken toes before. They hurt. I have never been to the emergency room for a broken toe. Wanna know why? Because you are not dying. They are going to give you a prescription for Aleve (if that). They will tell you to take it easy for a few days.They will not set it or put a cast on it. You know who else could have done that? The Urgent Care clinic conveniently located directly across the street. 

Dear Anyone Having Intensely Personal Conversations on Their Cell Phones,

You are not dying. Bitching about the wait? Not dying. Threatening to beat your kid? Not dying. Also, I heard what you said about the discharge and burning. Please sit somewhere else...

Thank you to WebMD for freaking me out even further. You are always the most awesome diagnostician.