Hospital Observations
You see a lot of the human condition while spending time at a hospital. There are always people milling around, at all hours of the day and night. This includes employees, medical staff, patients, families, visitors and strangers. It is a place where you can see the whole gamut of human emotion, just by observing people. You see sorrow, grief, anger, happiness, joy and fear. You see novices to the hospital scene and you see familiar faces.
I have spent a lot of time in emergency rooms and hospitals, accompanying my partner, who is chronically ill. Hospital visits are becoming an unfortunate routine, as his health deteriorates. The emotional part doesn't get any easier, despite the amount of time I have spent in hospitals.
Last weekend, we went to the Emergency Room, for what became the start of another 10 day hospital admission. The ER was typically busy and hectic for a Friday night. Hospital people are easily identifiable. Even if they are not clinical staff, most employees wear scrubs and ID tags, and soft soled shoes. You don't always hear them coming up from behind with those soft shoes, particularly if you are lost in thought. That has happened to me more than once. I have been startled by someone seemingly just appearing out of thin air.
Family members are easy to identify as well. Spouses and parents have worried expressions on their faces and on their overall person. You can almost see the weight of the world on the shoulders of people worrying about a loved one. Sometimes you also see fear and resignation, particularly in the eyes. I have often found myself thinking I am intruding in another's emotional landscape when we find ourselves sharing waiting space.
Hospital employees tend to be very close knit. They have to be when tending to sick people and overwhelmed family and friends. I have seen technicians and nurses act playful and funny and laugh with each other in hallways and unit stations. At first, I used to think, "How can they be so disrespectful of other people's pain?" Then I realized that medical staff must take care of themselves and have light moments during their shifts and days, in order for them to have the strength needed to help those needing help.
I remember sitting in the ER last weekend and seeing a woman sitting with a man, who I assumed was her husband. This woman looked so sad. I could see it in her eyes. She was knitting and mind of murmuring to herself and to the man she was with. I could not hear what she was saying, but I imagined they were gentle words of comfort. When nurses came to talk with her, she stopped knitting momentarily and her eyes filled with hope, as if some good news was possible. Then she would go back to her knitting and self-talk.
She learned a lot about me that evening too, even though we did not share a conversation. Hospital camaraderie seems to be a universal force. I was reading a book, for I have learned that it can be a very long wait in the ER until a bed opens up somewhere in the hospital. I have done this many times read, gaze, wonder, hope, and breathe deeply.
This night I seemed more composed than usual. However, when a financial counselor came to talk to me, my dam burst and I started to cry. The counselor took one look at me and apologized profusely for overwhelming me, and gave me a hug. I could tell it was genuine, and as she pulled away from me, as I was still sobbing, she had such a patient, understanding look about her, and I knew I had as much time as I needed to collect myself to finish the difficult conversation we needed to have.
She discreetly steered me behind a curtain and we finished our talk in relative privacy. Other people walked by, looking curiously respectful, again a sign of that universal hospital language that I have seen before.
When I stepped back over to the curtained area where my partner was, I was told that it was time to go upstairs. He was sick enough this time that we didn't have the usual hours-long wait. As I prepared to follow his gurney to the elevator, I noticed the woman across the way gazing over at me, with such a look of compassion and empathy. In that split second, our eyes locked, and we spoke volumes to each other, without saying a word. Then she mouthed "good luck" as I walked away and she went back to her knitting.
You can learn a lot about other human beings just by paying attention to what is not said.