The Emergency Room

There's alot of young people here. A few young girls I notice, some clutching sides, wincing, breathing short breaths.

Wait, there's alot of people here... just people. This is a busy place. It's pretty miserable. As Ben Gibbard said of the ICU, it's the place "where we only say goodbye." It's not all epic and sad as a Death Cab song, but it's getting there. As I learn later, the five-hour wait is not only because the U of A emergency clinic is plain busy, but also because it's a major trauma center.

But I'm not in trauma right now. I give my information, proceed to this seat, talk to this lady, move back to this seat. So we sit, and sit. Watch the half dozen people that came in before me go in.... and a dozen or so people that came after me.

I laugh to Vanessa about the last time I was in the emergency room, how my mother bought me this green blob labeled "Medi Wrap" from the cafeteria, and me, horrified, not knowing whether the "Medi" stood for "Medical" and not the intended "Mediterranean", chewed hesitantly through it.

Of course, later Vanessa buys me another one, and it consists of a green tortilla shell, and cheddar cheese. More cheddar than any digestive tract should be forced to endure.

Eventually my name is called, I'm shooed through a door, behind a curtain, and a young emergency doctor with a name tag reading "Dr. Woods" sits down in front of me. He flips through a chart and says, "You're definitely the most interesting patient I've seen today."

I get that a lot.

My mom shows up. She brings (real) sandwiches, and a notebook full of arcane medical notes and information from my last episodes. I'm going to need this book, it turns out. I'm shooed out of my curtained cage, into a cage with windows and a stretcher, and sit for a couple more hours with my mom and wife.

A hematologist stops in. I don't recognize her from my previous visits. She ballparks my condition, and then mentions a name I do know: Dr. Ritchie. The senior resident hematologist that worked on me the last time. He'll be stopping by, apparently. She leaves.

A nurse comes in, fits me with an IV. That's always unpleasant. A blood tech comes in and draws all the vials neccessary for a CBC differential test, and a few others, oh, and to match my blood with the Alberta blood bank for the transfusion. And while I can't explain what that is to you in detail for lack of understanding, this will amount to close to twenty vials of blood within my first 24 hours in the hospital.

Things aren't even saucy yet! Bring it on!

Another hour later, the curtain parts as if a show is about to begin... in walks Doctor Ritchie. I smile. He's a good doctor.

Followed by the aforementioned hematologist, another hematology intern, and two internal medicine residents. There are now five doctors looking sympathetically at me. I smile less.

Ritchie stands by my bed, sticks his hands in his pockets, rocks on his heels. He levels his gaze at me, and cutting out all pretense of bullshit, says:

"We're going to yank your spleen."

I stop smiling. My mom isn't smiling. Neither is Vanessa.

My blood work isn't even back from the lab.