Inspiration
The Observation Hall of the Emergency Room is a very public place where matters of utmost privacy are discussed. If a writer needs ideas, it's an excellent place to go to find them. Ailments are discussed, family matters are mentioned, and private habits go public. The curtains around each bed give only anonymity, and you can imagine the faces of whomever is talking or complaining. Sometimes there'll be a fleeting glance when the patient is wheeled out and he can be seen through a small opening in the curtain.
A woman with an elderly voice explains her symptoms while the doctor palpates her abdomen. Her fear of appendicitis disappears, but the specter of surgery remains when the doctor tells her her gall bladder needs to be removed as soon as possible.
A young man complains that he doesn't want to take a shower with the I.V. tube inserted into his forearm. The nurse insists it can't be taken off until the doctor says so, but he must take a shower. In the end, he grumbles off to the shower, I.V. bag hanging from the hook he wheels along. When he comes back, a nurse is waiting to take him up to his room. She mentions the number on the room, and everyone knows what's wrong with him. It's on the fifth floor. That's the cancer ward.
A middle-aged man is interrogated over his symptoms. He expelled blood in his stools and later vomited blood. He is asked if he is retired, if he smokes, and if he drinks alcohol. The doctor begins asking more specific questions. How much does he drink a day, what alcohol does he drink? The answer comes quickly, minimizing. Only three cognacs a day, a few glasses of wine with lunch and dinner, just a beer or two in the afternoon. The doctor explains he has hemorrhaging in the liver, and that he can't drink any more alcohol. She also explains it will be hard, but he must do it. He replies there isn't any problem, and she says to him, "It's harder than you think."
A man from another European country, but with a perfect grasp of Spanish, is there because of a fall. The doctors tell him he broke his hip. They ask him how much weight he's lost this year. He answers he's lost almost thirty kilos in a year and a half. But he hasn't needed to go to the doctor because he's taking vitamins. The doctors tell him he needs an operation on his hip and that they have to know the name of the vitamins. He says he'll phone a relative in Italy to tell him the name, which he doesn't remember at the moment.
Someone with a heart problem who wants to go on a family picnic later in the day; someone with gastrointestinal problems that began with something he ate over a week ago. So many stories, so many lives that cross each other and never come into contact again. An Emergency Room is filled with them.
A woman with an elderly voice explains her symptoms while the doctor palpates her abdomen. Her fear of appendicitis disappears, but the specter of surgery remains when the doctor tells her her gall bladder needs to be removed as soon as possible.
A young man complains that he doesn't want to take a shower with the I.V. tube inserted into his forearm. The nurse insists it can't be taken off until the doctor says so, but he must take a shower. In the end, he grumbles off to the shower, I.V. bag hanging from the hook he wheels along. When he comes back, a nurse is waiting to take him up to his room. She mentions the number on the room, and everyone knows what's wrong with him. It's on the fifth floor. That's the cancer ward.
A middle-aged man is interrogated over his symptoms. He expelled blood in his stools and later vomited blood. He is asked if he is retired, if he smokes, and if he drinks alcohol. The doctor begins asking more specific questions. How much does he drink a day, what alcohol does he drink? The answer comes quickly, minimizing. Only three cognacs a day, a few glasses of wine with lunch and dinner, just a beer or two in the afternoon. The doctor explains he has hemorrhaging in the liver, and that he can't drink any more alcohol. She also explains it will be hard, but he must do it. He replies there isn't any problem, and she says to him, "It's harder than you think."
A man from another European country, but with a perfect grasp of Spanish, is there because of a fall. The doctors tell him he broke his hip. They ask him how much weight he's lost this year. He answers he's lost almost thirty kilos in a year and a half. But he hasn't needed to go to the doctor because he's taking vitamins. The doctors tell him he needs an operation on his hip and that they have to know the name of the vitamins. He says he'll phone a relative in Italy to tell him the name, which he doesn't remember at the moment.
Someone with a heart problem who wants to go on a family picnic later in the day; someone with gastrointestinal problems that began with something he ate over a week ago. So many stories, so many lives that cross each other and never come into contact again. An Emergency Room is filled with them.
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