Boxing Day in the ER
BY RANDY MCINTOSH
I’ve always heard that ERs were busiest the day after major holidays. I decided to “test this” by breaking out in a cold sweat and focal paraesthesias early morning on Boxing Day. These are the events as they happened as far as I can recall.
BTW, this is satire. :)
5:45AM
Tell my wife that I should probably go to ER because of cold sweats and tingling. She mumbles something about male menopause.
5:55AM
While on drive to hospital, radio talk show discusses the increased incidence of panic attacks during the COVID pandemic. Wife changes the station.
6:05AM
Arrive at hospital’s emergency ward. Wife says to text her with my progress, yawns and says she needs coffee. Intake nurse cheerful. She asks if I have been eating and drinking well. My reply, “’Tis the season,” garners smiling eyes.
6:10AM
Sitting in first waiting room. Two other persons there. Man-spreader in camouflage pants and woman in grey wool hat and extremely large coat. They ignore me.
6:15AM
Man walks in from outside wearing a Montreal Canadians’ hockey jersey and a Toronto Maple Leafs’ toque. He is vomiting into a bag. Wonder in silence whether the combination of Canadians’ and Leafs’ paraphernalia on the same person could be toxic.
6:25AM
Charge nurse calls out three names. Believe one is mine and follow. Am told to go into exam stall #1 and change into a hospital gown, leaving underwear and socks on. Yes, Mum, I have clean underwear on.
6:35AM
Realize I need to pee. Woman with grey wool hat enters bathroom and vomits. Decide I don’t need to go that badly.
7:05AM
Nurses enter stall. They are pleasant and ask a series of questions. They put in an IV line and draw a vial of blood. I comment that it doesn’t seem too busy today. They say, “Wait,” and put up bed rail showing me the controls to adjust the bed. They say this is the most sophisticated model for a hospital bed. When they leave, I start pressing buttons and a Code Blue is called. Do not believe it was my fault but decide to stop pressing buttons.
7:25AM
Still need to pee.
7:35AM
Five more people enter the waiting room. Decide to take the risk and pee.
7:37AM
The bathroom is out of order. Charge nurse indicates there is another at the other end of hall. As I approach, I see the man in Leafs’ toque entering said bathroom, yelling out Quebecois swear words at me.
7:50AM
Charge nurse says doctor has arrived and will see me soon. Realize I have not had coffee yet.
8:05AM
Take smartphone from jacket pocket. Note 50% battery charge. Check Twitter to see if it is still there. Twitter is still there.
8:25AM
Hear voice of doctor outside stall. They are walking around in floppy shoes that make me think of Patch Adams.
8:40AM
Am not the first person the doctor sees, but rather the person in the next stall. Person is complaining of stomach problems, indicating they had eaten an entire bag of charcoal to alleviate another stomach problem that arose after restaurant take-out. Doctor says, “You mean charcoal pills?” Patient replies “No.”
8:55AM
Twitter is still there. I need coffee. Pop-up ad for Tim Hortons indicates coffee is just across the street. Contemplating running over in hospital gown, but notice my socks don’t match.
9:25AM
Doctor comes in. Definitely not Patch Adams. Doctor asks many questions to which I answer ‘no.’ Decide that they need more blood, an EKG, and CT scan.
10:15AM
Nurse enters stall. Withdraws blood from IV line and places somewhere between 3 and 33 EKG leads on my body.
10:17AM
EKG complete. Directed to sit out in waiting area.
10:21AM
It is cold. Can see breath in waiting area. Ask for blanket and am brought one fresh out of the dryer. It is warm. I feel very special. The others in the waiting area are wearing parkas and gloves. They are staring at me. Except for man in the camouflage pants, who practises variations on man-spreading while mumbling at smartphone.
10:45AM
Check smartphone. Battery now at 75%. Unsure if new power has anything to do with extra EKG leads. Decide to download Scrabble game.
11:15AM
Decide to download chess game. Women in grey hat walks out of waiting area.
11:30AM
Small goth person enters waiting room. Sits in chair next to me, sends text message, and falls asleep.
11:45AM
Delete chess game.
12:45
Noticeably hungry.
12:55
Man in camouflage pants asks me to watch his seat while he goes to get coffee. I am hopeful he feels generous and brings one for me.
12:57
Woman in grey hat returns with coffee and an apple cruller. My stomach notices.
13:17
Man in camouflage pants returns with large cup of coffee and a paper bag that smells of bacon. He thanks me for guarding his seat. He does not have coffee for me. I am glad my facial expression is obscured by the mask.
13:35
A delivery guy arrives with a pizza for “Melissa,” the goth person sitting next to me.
13:37
Attempt a barter with Melissa for one slice of pizza in exchange for my blanket. She declines, but man in camouflage pants says he is willing to give me half his breakfast sandwich for the blanket.
13:38
Before I can respond to the offer, a porter calls my name to escort me to CT imaging. My stomach moans.
13:39
We walk by a small enclosed room lined with empty, but luxurious, chairs and a high-def TV. Porter says this is the “spa,” an overflow area for patients. Despite comfortable appearance, Porter advises I not go there unless directed because: “If you do and no one knows you’re there, you will sit there forever.”
13:50
Enter CT scan room. Technician asks a few questions and indicates that injection of contrast agent may make me feel like I have peed myself.
13:55
Technician is correct.
14:00
I find an open bathroom next to CT scan room. I enter. Certain I hear horns and angels singing as I begin voiding my bladder.
14:10
Porter arrives to walk me back to ER. We pass “spa” room and see man in the camouflage pants sitting there with a slice of pizza and my blanket. I smile behind mask.
15:45
Directed back into stall #1. EKG needs to be redone. New nurse surprised at choice of EKG leads to use. They say, “When you take those off, you may want to do it in the shower.” I sense a touch of concern in their voice.
16:15
Doctor returns indicating all results suggest I am okay. I make comment asking if I finally can have coffee. Doctor raises eyebrow saying there is a coffee machine in the spa room that is available for all patients. May have whimpered a little. Send text message to wife to pick me up.
17:15
Arrive home. Uncertain whether to eat, drink, shower or sleep. Decide to make sandwich and take into shower.
17:20
Sandwich soggy. I don’t care.
17:25
After soaping, attempt to remove first EKG leads from lower legs. Delighted that both come off with minimal difficulty.
17:27
With more soap, attempt to remove EKG lead from left shoulder. Try same technique as with legs. Success.
17:29
Try EKG lead on right pectoral. While pulling, exclaim: WHAT THE HELL?
17:29:30
Continue peeling EKG lead from right pectoral. It comes off along with 500g of chest hair.
17:35
Try EKG lead on left pectoral. Attempt approach from ventral part of patch. Somewhat more successful, with only 425g of chest hair and two colourful exclamations.
17:37
Now must remove the three leads from below my left pectoral muscle along rib cage. Decide to start with the most lateral one where there is the least hair.
17:38
Was wrong — there is hair there.
17:39
Attempt a two-handed approach, holding EKG lead and trying to keep hair off. This seems to help as I do not feel the urge to scream.
17:40
On to second lead. Will try the same two-handed approach.
17:41
There is too much hair. I panic and start to tug. Urge to scream returns.
17:42
MOTHER OF GOD! WHO MAKES THESE THINGS?
17:43
See that I have made progress, after removing 5 of the 30mm lead and losing only 200g of hair. Seems that this hair has a direct link to pain centres in my brain.
17:43:30
Convinced that “3M” must stand for “3 masochists.”
17:44
Halfway there. I think there is blood. No, there is not. But there should be, dammit.
17:45
WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?
17:46
I can no longer speak.
17:47
Second patch is removed. I toss the vile thing to the shower floor, spouting off some Shakespearean damnation.
17:48
Decide to try more aggressive approach with the final EKG lead, following the advice of a friend who gets his back waxed and says just pull it off fast and it won’t hurt.
17:49
I peel the edge to the lead, clench my jaw and pull. The world goes to white silence.
18:35
Wake up in a hospital gurney in the ER. Charge nurse recognizes me. “Hey, welcome back! We’ll get you set up and checked out in no time. First, let me check your vitals. Then I’ll need to put these EKG leads on you.”
18:35:10
In space, no one can hear you scream.
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Thanks to Sigrid Macdonald for her edits and suggestions on this work: https://www.bookmagic.ca/
Click to find more of Randy’s short stories and blog posts….
