Chop Wood, Carry Water 3/2

Our ER experience

Hi, all.

So, Mj cut the tip of their thumb off last night at a dollmaking class.

That’s a sentence I never imagined writing.

But that’s what happened. Literally. An old pair of scissors, a pipe cleaner, a slip of the hand, and boom. Class cancelled for Mj.

Our education, however, was only just beginning.

I tried taking them to our usual urgent care to have their hand treated, but a doctor there took a cursory look at it and told us that because the finger couldn’t be stitched it required an ER visit.

So we went to the closest hospital—one with an excellent reputation— and checked in. My husband met us there. We were seen by a triage nurse fairly quickly, and then Mj was sent for X-Rays. I thought that a bit odd, as the cut was nowhere near a bone, but we couldn’t get anyone to talk to us, so there was no way to ask questions. Afterwards we were sent back to the general waiting room, which had about 60 other extremely sick people in it. Maybe more.

And there we sat. And sat.

And sat.

After waiting 5 hours, into the wee hours of the morning, and still not seeing a doctor, I decided to ask how much longer the wait might be. The woman at the desk told us the hospital was full, they were short staffed and had no beds, and she literally had no idea when it would be our turn. “We just had a critical patient wait 7 1/2 hours to be seen,” she added.

Knowing that Mj was far from critical and totally exhausted, and not knowing what else to do, we left. It just seemed pointless to keep hoping we’d get help. Stopping at an all night CVS, we bought a bunch of gauze and bandages. At home Mike did his best, with only the medical knowledge he could glean from a woodworker’s wound care book, to treat Mj’s cut. It was awful, and scary, and very painful for our kid, but he seemed at least somewhat successful.

We fell asleep close to 3:00 AM, but woke shortly thereafter when we heard Mj howling in pain. Mike’s wrapping was too tight, they said—it was cutting off their circulation. I gave them Advil; Mike loosened their bandage a bit. We did our best to make them comfortable, and then we all tried to get back to sleep.

The first thing I heard at daybreak were Mj’s sobs of despair. Our bandaging attempt had failed miserably during the night and they’d awoken covered in blood.

Mike called our pediatrician’s office, who told him that they couldn’t help us—we had to go back to an ER.

We called around, trying to find one with a less-than-8-hour wait, and settled on a hospital not far away. We knew little about it, but reviews online said the lines were shorter there.

And it turned out to be true! This time Mj was seen almost immediately. No X-Ray was required. The doctor who saw us asked why we hadn’t just gotten Mj treated at an urgent care. “It’s a fairly straightforward wound,” he added.

Ruefully, Mike told him the whole story. The doctor just nodded and said “I hear a lot of stuff like that.”

Mj was in and out, neatly bandaged and pain free, in just over fifteen minutes.

They’re fine now, and off to catch the last part of school, but needless to say I’m very tired.

Also? Our healthcare system is broken. What we experienced last night was awful. To know your child needs care and not to be able to access it in a major population center—or anywhere!—is unspeakably upsetting. To be sent to an ER for something that could be treated at an in-office visit, to be made to get unnecessary tests, to be asked to wait for vast stretches with a child, to be unable to help your kid stop bleeding—all of it was indescribably frustrating and scary.

I don’t blame any one person or institution, and I know what a burden COVID has been on our providers, but still. It wasn’t an experience anyone should have to have in one of the richest countries in the world. And we’re the lucky ones. Our story had a happy ending. So many do not.

Healthcare is a human right.

So let’s keep advocating for it, shall we?

Anyway. Back to “normal” tomorrow. Have a good day, all!

Jess