I roamed free for an hour inside the hospital, killing time in the bowels of the health care system. I didn’t do anything illegal but I probably shouldn’t have been poking around in those back halls.
Over the years I’ve learned an important lesson. As long as you look like you belong somewhere no one will bother you. Stay cool, carry yourself with an air of confidence.
Walking with a borderline strut, I made my way down a corridor marked radiology. There were empty rooms with x-ray machines and high-tech CAT scan devices. Fighting the urge to give myself a freebie I avoided touching anything. Still, I can’t resist a “Staff Only” sign. What are they hiding? Maybe I could find some answers, find out why healthcare costs so much.
This started with an early phone call. It’s never good news when the phone rings at 6 a.m. on a Saturday. I had to take someone to the emergency room. The details aren’t important. That someone would say “it’s none of your business” anyway. After registering/signing in with three different people, all of whom were very interested in insurance information, the doctor called my friend’s name and she headed off to parts unknown.
Not long after, I grew anxious. Sick people piled up around me. Their germs filled the air, giving off a tremendous sense of doom. A young woman in a wheel chair began turning an army green. A mailman limped in through the automatic door, wincing with each step. A twenty something with a swollen jaw kept checking at the front desk much to the exasperation of the older gentlemen sitting next to me. Desperation oozed from every direction.
A dude in a pair of sunglasses sat down. He gave an empathetic nod and took off his shades, revealing a vicious case of pink eye. Yikes. I stood up and pretended to look for a magazine, sliding past a woman wearing a fur coat and slippers. She coughed on me. I began wandering the hallways. At least then I’d be on the move. I’d be one step ahead of those evil opportunistic organisms. Already I’d decided I would have to shower as soon as I got home, burn my cloths, go into complete detox mode.
I respect the important work of doctors and nurses but I think we can all agree that the health care system is screwed up. So why not check it out?
Even for a suburban hospital, Norwood is maze like. Signs point in every direction. Patients stumble around, lost and looking for help. There are many locked doors, biohazard warnings, and conference spaces. I found a storage room full of rubber gloves and the remains of an unauthorized smoke break.
Only one person questioned me. But I was ready. I simply said I was looking for the men’s room and made a slight but noticeable motion towards my stomach. No one’s going to hang around and check on you after a frantic dash to the bathroom.
I paused at the start of a dark hallway. The old man from the waiting room was lying there on a gurney. He moaned and our eyes met before a nurse wheeled him away. He left a hollow space in his wake.
Finally, I came to a room marked “Spiritual Care.” It was empty and the lights were off. I flicked a switch, took a seat and waited. I could have used some spiritual care (can’t we all?) but no one ever showed up.