In the Hospital, Day 1

One hot summer afternoon, I walked into the emergency department (ED) at a local hospital for the first time. I was nervous about my new position because at no point did I receive any substantial training. I was shown places where important items were present and should be, as well as places where important items weren't but should have been. My function was to remedy the situation so that all the places fell under the first category (this was very rarely achieved in full). I was also more or less in charge of the waiting room, which meant I would be the first person patients and visitors would address with their questions and comments. At first this seemed problematic, given the absence of training and a lack of knowledge on hospital procedures. But it quickly became clear that only a few phrases would be necessary, most of which include the words "wait" and "soon" in some configuration.

It was a small waiting room, with enough chairs for approximately twenty-five people. The triage area, nicknamed The Fishbowl, overlooked the room from the corner. The Fishbowl owed its nickname to the plexiglass windows that closed it off from the waiting room (more importantly, the people in the waiting room). Thankfully, it was not too busy, which I considered a good omen. I swiped my badge, and proceeded through the double doors that led to the rest of the hospital and the ED. There I met Roger (not his real name), the volunteer who offered to lend for my first day. His first two pieces of advice immediately contradicted the little training I was given. First, he recommended that I avoid doing "Rounds" on the people waiting. This tended to disturb the fragile equilibrium between people asking me questions and people becoming frustrated with my "wait" and "soon" responses. Once a patient views you as a foe, your job becomes infinitely more difficult and miserable, and so we decided it was best to let sleeping dogs lie (especially the people actually sleeping). Second, he recommended that I stay inside the Fishbowl. This allowed me to watch over the room and get to know the triage nurse while further discouraging questions. And so we set off, thwarting attempts to bother the nurse, helping family members find a relative, and keeping individuals contently (quietly) waiting.

Before my volunteer savior left me to manage alone, a patient arrived by EMS suffering from seizures (unknown to Roger and I). One woman was particularly hysterical, pacing back and forth, barely able to form complete sentences. She pleaded with us to let us see the patient, but he wasn't settled in yet (IVs, meds, exam, etc). At first we didn't even know who she was talking about, and before we could get any information from her, she hurried outside to make a phone call. Roger shrugged, and we went back to work. Later, I recall walking by his bed as he began seizing again. Had it not been my first day, I would have paused briefly to see how they were managing him. Eventually, the woman was let back to see him, although she was somewhat of a thorn in the side of the staff.

The rest of the evening was less eventful, but busier (which tends to be both a good thing and a bad thing). As I was leaving (an hour after my shift was supposed to end), the triage nurse, recognizing that it was my first day, gave me some advice (which I would not heed nor fully appreciate until much later). He told me, "don't forget to have fun." It's easy to spend all your time volunteering or studying or focusing so much on your goals that you forget to take a breather. I left that night tired but excited. This was my first step into the world of medicine, and it was sure to be interesting.