Editor’s note: This commentary is by Jim Tomczak, of Milton.
Let’s look at the American health care system from a different point of view away from the board rooms and very multimillion dollar expenses.
I took this photo in an examining room at the local medical center. I had hurt my foot and thought it to be prudent to have it looked at. I was sure my summer was over. I fell into a sand trap.
There was plenty of time to contemplate the meaning of the penny, taped tail end out to the doorframe. I decided that it was like something the ancients Romans would do and archeologist would dig up and we would then be allowed to say, “Ha! Dumb Romans.” Well, here’s a lucky copper adding to cutting edge medical science in 2019. So much for superstition being dead.
I said I had time to think because as is usual in these situations, I found myself alone for 35 minutes at a pop before a doctor (or nurse, I’m not sure) will gently knock at the door with a surprised look on their face like finding an ill person was totally unexpected. Left alone among the usual equipment — scales, stirrups, sharps disposal containers, hand creams galore — sweating and baking under the glare of what I assume to be retina healthy white fluorescent light, I wondered what other businesses would have the regular audacity to leave a customer stranded like this without the offering of coffee or a taste of water or any sort of entertainment. Talk about a captive audience. The same people who now deliver advertising while you are stuck pumping gas are missing a great opportunity. You read it here first. I’ve sat in this situation many times wondering with great effort if the sore throat was serious, were these hives a reaction to antibiotics or am I permanently orange, how much is it going to cost me to hear the words ice, rest and Alleve?
Count the number of times you have experienced the zen of being alone with your thoughts, in a sterile environment, away from family, friends, sunshine. I feel trapped, as close to the twilight zone that I hope to get. Let’s face it, the experience could be made more soothing instead of the unique brand of modern day torture: waiting for a service from high priced professionals. A window would help.
I mentioned my sprained foot. The room was far down the corridors. I was walking with a limp, using a cane and I was in pain. No offer was made of the wheelchair stashed in the open coat closet. The nurse apologized for the walk. I didn’t reply; I could not think of something nice to say, so I remained silent. Until I wrote this piece anyway.
The penny must have worked; the X-rays were negative. Ice and Alleve and rest were prescribed. Two weeks later I returned to my golf game, unchanged.
I hope other areas of a billion dollar system of health care also have pennies taped to strategic areas. Remember: head toward the wall, tail side out, just like a prostate exam!
Back in the winter, my wife and I encountered the local health care provider in a different manner. After a trying February day we headed home and while trying to fish her cellphone that had fallen between the seat and console, she wretched her hand and it swelled up considerably. I thought it was prudent to take her to the ER; it really looked ugly.
The hospital was in the midst of a building project which included the ER. I always figure buildings have to be built sometime, I just happened to be here at that time. No need to get upset. It was tough getting parking but my wife went through the admittance process quickly enough and was given some ice to relieve the pain. We headed to the waiting area until our name was called. The room was crowded with families both young and old. Since it was February and brutally cold I expected to hear people hacking away or moaning from the flu, but the conversation bordered on festive as folks talked up a storm on all kinds of family subjects, as a way of distracting attention from their surroundings. Nobody really looked ill.
There was a terrible backlog of patients and the wait times were enormous. I noticed one family bundling up against the cold and saying “three hours is enough.” It was said with great resignation, as if a common occurrence. The elderly woman who was being doted on by her family walked slowly to the automatic door and the winter evening.
The system is just that, I thought. When you have to wait your turn, you have to wait your turn. Admittance to a crowded ER is subjective due to the nature of the operation.There’s a word for that that everyone knows. I did not see any bleeding people waiting with us because they were being treated. Would make perfect sense if it was me.
After a two-hour wait, my wife and I were admitted for treatment and sent to sit on a bed in a crowded, commandeered hallway near the ambulatory entrance. The area was the center of confusion and hungry looking interns. In the meantime my wife’s swollen hand felt and looked better. So we decided to leave. All the passing hospital scrubs and pounding Danish clogs thought that was a great idea. My wife’s injury responded to ice and Alleve and in more than a couple weeks was back to normal. Good news is always welcome.
While we were leaving the ER into the frosty night we had to wait as an ambulance crew wheeled an elderly woman for admittance through the automatic doors to the real center of the ER. It was the woman whose family convinced her to leave the waiting room not one hour before. It appeared that they merely drove a few blocks away, dialed 911 and beat the system by cutting in line. She looked pretty happy. Hope she’s OK. A lucky penny might help.
