I must say I am truly enjoying this part of
retirement. Not getting sick but having the ability to go to the pharmacy in
the middle of the day, stay up late to wait for a call back or sleep a day away
without the stress and pressure of worrying about work. By the time I went to
the hospital, I considered my stress levels to be pretty high, but my blood
pressure was hardly elevated….and I have chronic high blood pressure. During my
working days, it would have been off the charts. This is all I’m saying about
retirement this week. If you will indulge me, I would like to comment on a
couple of observations from my afternoon at urgent care.
I arrived at the hospital at about half past
twelve. The process was simple. Take a number and have a seat. After about ten
minutes, my number was called, and I was ushered in to see a triage nurse. She took
vitals and notes on my concern and then directed me to the registration desk to
have a file opened and receive a patient bracelet. I then settled back into the
seating area for what I correctly assumed would be a significant wait. The sign
on the wall said wait times were three – four hours and that was okay. I knew I
was where I had to be to get the help I needed. Sitting in the waiting room of
the emergency department is always an interesting experience. You take note of all
the other patients, determine how many are being accompanied and then calculate
how many are ahead of you. You then guess at their ailments. Who is there as I
am, for flu/cold support? How many are injured? We all know that eventually we
will be seen and treated and be on our way. Sadly, there is always another
group of our population represented. On this day, we were joined by two members
of the homeless community. A gentleman who said his name was Donald checked in
at about the same time I did. I wasn’t quite sure of his symptoms or his story,
but he was polite and very well spoken. A short time later, a young lady
arrived. I would guess she was in her mid to late 20s. It was obvious that she
was suffering with some mental health issues. She checked herself in and joined
us in the waiting area. Donald spoke to her, asking how she was doing. He
offered her comforting words, telling her the medical staff would help her. She
would sit for a bit and then get up and roam. In a low voice, to nobody in particular,
Donald shared that she was in rough shape. She hadn’t slept for days. He said
there were about eight of them, all from the shelters, who were watching out
for her, both men and woman. They would give her cigarettes and try to keep her
calm. There was great concern that she would cause harm to herself. My heart
broke for her. On this cold, damp, miserable day, how could we as a society
allow this poor kid to be on the streets, at the mercy of the elements when she
should be in a warm environment receiving the care she deserves. At least,
there with us, she was warm. She asked a receptionist for a drink of juice and
the kind lady found her a glass. She would take off her boots, curl up in chair
and sit quietly, sometimes talking to herself or singing. She had a terrible cough.
She would pull her boots back on and repeat the drill. This cycle continued for
a couple of hours.
After almost three hours, my turn arrived. Donald
and I were taken into the patient care area at the same time and were placed in
curtained treatment areas beside each other. He was first to see a doctor. I
listened as he explained to the doctor that he was on medication for mental
health issues, but his bag had been stolen from the shelter, and he lost his
pills. He shared that when he had been under a doctor’s care and on medication,
he was able to function and hold a job. I had previously heard him speaking in
the waiting room about the type of work he did. He was a skilled laborer. He
performed a job that I couldn’t do on my best day. I can relate to his story.
You see, I also suffer with mental health issues. I was diagnosed with
depression and severe anxiety several years ago and I too am on medication. But
for the grace of God, Donald and I could very easily be in reversed roles. I am
very fortunate to have the love and support of family and friends. Maybe he is
not as fortunate, I don’t know. With only a curtain between, I heard the
remainder of their conversation. The extremely gracious doctor went above and
beyond to assist Donald, giving him medication he really needed and directions
on next steps to get him back into the system for support.
In the meantime, I saw a doctor who
acknowledged that I did have a significant problem. While waiting for a test, I
could hear the young woman from the waiting area being brought back for
treatment. By this point, she was beyond frustration. I could hear the nursing
staff working diligently to assist her, but there was no reasoning with her. She
was offered food and other comforts but was beyond the point of being rational.
She became louder and started to get violent. I told the nurse who was treating
me that I could not do their job. I felt so absolutely terrible for this poor
girl. I know that she had zero control over her actions. I also knew that the
immediate care she required was not available in this emergency department. I
could see on the faces of the staff as I was released and ushered out of the
department that they too were heartbroken.
I made my way outside and met police officers
on their way in. As bad as this sounds, it really was the only option for this
girl to keep her safe. I watched from my car as they wrestled her out of the
hospital and into the back of a police car. I can only imagine how her day
ended. I hope she is getting the care she needs and deserves.
So, what are my observations? First, we have a
very efficient and functioning health system. Yes, it is understaffed so we don’t
always get in and out as quickly as we would like. However, we all need to be
grateful for the healthcare professionals we have. They do care. Secondly, we
all need to own our homeless situation. Don’t look past these unfortunate souls.
They are not all drug addicts. And of those that are, the drugs are in most
cases a result of living rough, not the cause. We need more mental health
support for all our citizens, both housed and unhoused. The difference in
circumstances between you and me, Donald and this young lady might only be one
bad decision or one missed opportunity. Let’s all try to be a little kinder.
We will get back to the retirement conversation
in my next post.
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