7 Life Lessons from the ER

I quit my job in September.  It was a hard job, an exhausting job; a rewarding, life-altering job.  And a job I am very proud to say I performed with diligence and love.  I gave greatly and received far more in return.

For two years I worked as a Patient Registrar for the Emergency Department of 5 hospitals in the Salt Lake Valley (with the amazing health care group, IHC).  These hospitals range widely in genre - one is specialized to receive the most dire patients, another a quiet neighborhood facility.  One cares only for children, another serves as an urban refuge for society's most damaged.  Working in each of these hospitals showed me suffering and healing, beauty and courage in some of the most unlikely places, and I walked away indelibly changed.  Here's what I learned during my time in the ER...

1 - "Healthy" is a relative term.  I've kissed my babies' feverish foreheads just moments before grabbing my ID badge and running out the door, all the way pitying my miserable little ones and their tired mama as I drive the deserted streets of 1am.  I've lamented aloud the flood of maladies we've encountered over the years: appendectomy, tonsillectomy, pneumonia, shattered elbow, anaphylactic shock, PIC lines, osteomyelitis, viral meningitis -  each deluge of pain rocking our boat, soaking us to the skin. But it only takes a quick skim through the halls of the children's hospital ER to send a tidal wave of perspective my way, washing me ashore to weep with gratitude for dry land.  I've come to view passing illness and injury very differently because I've seen those who never get to heal. 

GI tubes, oxygen tanks, chemo, missing limbs, severe burns - these are the true medical tsunamis. Sniffles or no, "healthy" means we possess bodies that can readily fight off infection - bodies that can heal.  "Healthy" means no long-term damage.  "Healthy" means we are gifted every day with the ability to walk out those hospital doors when others can't.

2 - Be grateful for the wait.  Ok, I know that sounds weird and I promise you, the ER does not want you waiting any more than necessary.  Imagine the ER as the great equalizer - everyone is treated exactly the same regardless of race, religion, insurance, gender, age, weight, wealth, etc.  The only thing the ER cares about is acuity, meaning how dangerous and intense your symptoms are.  It sucks to sit in a waiting room when you feel like crap, believe me I know, but because the Emergency Room is the EMERGENCY ROOM, the most immediately critical emergencies will get the most immediate attention.  There are no favorites in the ER and none of the employees have any control over how many people arrive when as you do or how quickly a bed becomes available.  However, I can 100% guarantee you that everyone is working as quickly as possible to care for you, no matter what brings you in. 

Just know that if you are waiting, it is because there are more critical patients requiring care and be glad that you are not one of them.  Be grateful that you aren't having a stroke, a heart attack, a brain bleed or have been in a life-threatening accident of some kind.  Be grateful for the wait. 

(Disclaimer: ER's are run by humans, who are imperfect just like you and me.  So if you are sitting in a waiting room and you genuinely feel that your symptoms are life-threatening, speak up. Don't wait.)

3 - Not all pain is physical.   The high number of suicidal intentions/attempts that end up in the Emergency Room is eye-opening and gut wrenching.  A LOT of people in this world are hurting hardcore and their stories will lay you flat.  Many of these patients are embarrassed to admit that they are coming to the ER because they don't want to live but I'll tell you how it looks from my view behind the front desk:

When the emotional pain is that intense, it takes sick amounts of strength to keep yourself above drowning long enough to wade your car through traffic, hold your breath at stoplights, fight the tide all the way to that ER registration window and speak those pain-drenched words, "I want to kill myself." In my book, anyone with the guts to do that is a fucking warrior and the world needs as many of those as it can get so I am overjoyed when they make it to our doors.  

If you or someone you know is struggling in this way, PLEASE be assured that there is compassion and respite awaiting you at the ER.  They are never closed, they never turn away and they can help.

4 - Attitude is everything.  I worked 13 hours in the ER last Christmas and I'm not going to lie - it big time sucked.  The blizzard outside kept my family from visiting on my lunch break and brought in record numbers of bedraggled humans needing care for snow/ice related accidents.  I'd been up late the night before helping Santa do his thing and up early the next morning to witness the joyful results of my efforts.  I was over-tired, under-fed, over-worked and under a snowy mountain's worth of stress when I went in to the room of Mr. Hollings (name changed). Mr. Hollings had hit an icy patch while driving on the freeway and spun into the barrier.  Mr. Hollings was hurt in several places and in a snowy mountain's worth of pain.  I tried to offer him some sympathy.  "Oh what a crummy thing to have happen on Christmas - I'm so sorry, " I offered sincerely.  His response stopped me cold. 

Wincing with the painful exertion of speaking, he said, "Oh no, I don't mind, you see I was on my way home from dropping off my son and his baby girl at their apartment.  I haven't seen him in over and year and didn't think he'd come by for Christmas, even though we invited him.  But at the last second he called and asked for a ride so I went out and picked him up and we had the nicest time together!  I got to hold my tiny grand daughter for the first time and she smiled when I talked to her.  I think maybe we'll get to see them both more often now so actually, this has been one of the best days of my life.  Nothing could ruin it."  By then I had tears slipping down my cheeks.  This man had been through much more difficulty than I had that day but he was choosing to focus the good.  I squeezed his hand and thanked him.

5 - Drugs. Will. Wreck. You.  I don't mean to sound overly dramatic here because, in all honesty, I've had enough personal experience to know that this is not a truism and yet very much the truth. I've seen heroine injection sites blown up like craters, beating hearts stopped by cocaine, bite marks and yanked fingernails on meth trippers. Worse still, many of these patients are repeat visitors, caught in a soul-sucking whirlpool of bottomless craving.  Dipping your toes in that pool is perilous game with sky-high stakes.  Tread carefully.


6 - To comfort is a gift.  Don't ever pass up an opportunity to offer a kind word, gentle smile, understanding nod or hug to a hurting human being.  Everyone who comes to the ER is vulnerable in some way so compassion is a skill I practiced daily.  I loved it.  I couldn't give pain meds or stitch up cuts, but I could reach out and give comfort.  I have held an elderly woman's veined, trembling hand while doctors worked to save her husband's life.  I have brought Dirty Cokes to sleepless mothers and sent sneaky winks to white-haired gentlemen in hospital gowns. I have spread many warm blankets and drawn many, many smiley faces on latex gloves filled with air.  The privilege of comforting someone in need is by far the best perk of an ER job and the thing I've missed the most since turning in my badge. 

Outside of the ER it can be harder to spot these opportunities - in the regular world we aren't required to report our hidden pains and no one wears name-printed armbands to signify their need for care.  We have to watch and listen carefully to our fellow "patients" and remember that we all are hurting in some way.  We have to reach out.  I hope I'm watching and listening.  I hope I'm remembering and reaching out.

7 - Hug your kids...and everyone else while you're at it.  Life is vastly more delicate than we realize and a few short hours working in the ER will slap you upside the head with that truth. Car accidents, strokes, brain bleeds happen every day and more often than not they permanently alter their victims.  If you love someone, tell them, tell them, tell them - tell them with your words, your actions, your choices, your gratitude.  Whether it's painful or embarrassing or awkward - whether they return your words or turn away - TELL THEM.  Time wasted holding on to those words is simply that: Wasted.