Everything Fell Where They May

The noises you hear in this place are not like anywhere else. I hate these rooms.
I hate hospitals or more, I cannot stand emergency rooms
I hate the tones from the nearby machines and the mumbling from the other patients.

I hate the dull groans from the sick and of course, I cannot stand the louder ones, or the cries in pain or the screams and the pleading for a nurse or a doctor to help come and help or take the pain away.
And the worst?
The worst are the quiet ones, the parents who sit helpless and scared, praying with all their might and whether they are faithless or not; everyone finds God when the life of their child is on the line. 

It is hard to hear the questioning from those who hardly speak English and still, somehow, it is hard to hear as they try and explain their symptoms to a triage nurse; and of course, they wait and they wait . . . and they wait for one of the hospital’s interpreters.
And they wait and I wait and we wait . . .
But everything in the emergency room means waiting.

I hate these rooms. I hate the curtains that go around the bed.
I hate the memories and the remnants of old traumas and the realization that came after I worked as a specialist in some of the Northern New Jersey Hospitals.

Remember?
I used to work as a specialist and responded to overdose deployments. 

I can say this –
Healthcare is what you can afford. I can say that I have seen how this applies.
I can say that I have seen what happens when people make a little money but not enough money cannot seem to get the care they need. And I have seen that maybe it is better to have no money at all than it is to have some money.

Either way, money is money, healthcare is healthcare, and I have no time or patience or the education to talk about ways to create a better system

 I was thinking about one of my deployments . . . 
There was a man who laid on the gurney, drunk and bleeding, eating whatever meals they gave him. The nurses ignored him and to be honest, I don’t know why I noticed him or why I said something. And it’s not like I said much because in fairness, what I said in the beginning was really nothing more than a friendly “What’s up,” and hello.

It turns out the man was one of Hackensack’s homeless.
It turns out that he was frequent to this place. 
Turns out that this time was different because this time, he made a move to end his own life.
It turns out, no one seemed to care.
No one wanted to talk to him.

This was near Christmas time. I remember.
The man and I talked for a while. The nurse saw me and said her hellos and then I went off to mee with my deployment.
I sat and meat with to a young man who overdosed on a bus.
He denied overdosing.
He denied his drug use.
I explained how the paramedics administered Narcan and brought him back to life.
“Not me,” said the young man.
I asked, “Did you come here for the food and friends? because there are better places with better friends and better food.
Not long after, the young man and I began to talk.
He agreed to my services and I reserved a bed for him at a nearby detox.

Someone from the hospital called me a few days later.
The homeless man decided to go into treatment. He followed up with the social worker and agreed to her suggestions

I was happy
I was asked, “What did you tell him?”
My answer: nothing really.
We just talked like two people.

A month went by.
Or maybe it was two.

I used to have Sunday morning group in a Northern New Jersey homeless shelter. This group was held after my morning program at the county jail.
Both groups were called Breakfast with Benny

I was proud of this
Really proud.

I remember the morning when I entered the room inside the shelter. It was a nice thing to see new faces in the group

We started talking and the group began to pick up speed.

And there he was.
“You don’t remember me do you?”
I looked at the side of the room where the man sat.
He did not look the same. His skin color was better. His face healed up.
He did not look anything like he did the night when we met.

“You met me in the emergency room in Hackensack.”

He came to tell me about his progress.
He was living in the shelter instead of on the street. He was sober. He was looking for employment.
I thought to myself, “and though he were dead,” somehow, this man became alive.

I thought about him last night.
There were more tragedies than victories from that time.
I saw fatalities. I saw families ripped apart.
I saw good people surrender themselves to a bad life and yes, like water loses to a drain; I saw people lose their life the same way.

I do not envy the people who work in emergency rooms.
And maybe I do not like too many of them

I just have to remember the words, “necessary evil.”
Emergency rooms . . .
What a place, this is.
I thought to myself, “We just need to get the results and get out of here.”

I hate these places.
But life is life
Love is love
And everything we have is far more fragile and precious than we realize

There is more than meets the eye.
I know it
So do you

I hope . . .