After
graduating from medical school, I completed my medical training in a city
hospital. I thought it would give me the best opportunity to see a wide variety
of patients and the freedom to learn medicine without tagging along behind
private practitioners. Many of them afraid to allow interns or residents to
care for their patients. Obtaining training in a city hospital wasn't a free
for all and provided more freedom to get hands-on experience. One of my most
memorable experiences was my rotation in the emergency room. The emergency
department was enormous and divided into several sections that included
surgical cases, acute medical patients, female and male walk-in or stretcher
cases, and an obstetrics section.
One evening I was
assigned to the male medical section. As usual, it was full of the sick, the
not so ill, and those with imagined illnesses. The patients were minimally
screened for the severity of ailment by the admitting personnel consisting of a
receptionist, and orderly, who was busy transporting patients. The service was
overrun with patients 24/7. My dull gray room was packed that night with
patients who sat on uncomfortable metal chairs lined up against the far wall
awaiting an examination. The examining area on the opposite wall consisted of a
stretcher, sink, and desk, separated by a drawn curtain separating me from the
waiting patients. When a patient is called to be examined, everyone moves to
the next vacated seat. It was musical chairs without the music.
After examining a
patient, I'd pull the curtain open and look around the room before calling for
the next victim. I quickly noticed an elderly gentleman who, by comparison,
appeared relatively well dressed, with a shirt, tie, and clean, pressed pants.
He was seated at least 10 chairs away from the launching chair and sat there
quietly with his eyeglasses fogged up and forehead covered with beads of sweat.
I walked over and, without saying a word, placed my hand on his forehead. He
was burning with fever, and I helped him walk to the examining area. I shut the
curtain and asked him to undress. While questioning him about his illness, the
curtain was yanked open. A not-so-well-dressed man appeared demanding an
examination.
I explained that the
sick old guy sitting on the exam table had looked like he was ready to pass out
and required my attention before of all the other patients. The not so well
-dressed man said he was there before the older gentleman and I should have
examined him first. I told him to wait until I finished with the elderly man,
and I would then be happy to see him. At that point, he put his hand in his
pocket and pulled out a small revolver, pointing it at me. He coldly stated
that he would kill me if I didn't do what he said. In my panicked state, I
thought about the time and energy it took to arrive at that point in my brief
medical career that would be wasted if soon over. Collecting my senses and all
the courage I could muster, I coolly told him if he killed me, I wouldn't be
able to examine him and make him feel better. Looking at me with an anguished
stare, soaked with perspiration, he said that there were people in the room
threatening his life. His visions advised him that I had to examine him before
they killed him. It was clear that I was dealing with a psychiatric patient and
pleaded with him to put the weapon away. After a long pause, he reconsidered
his options and slowly handed me the revolver.
I instructed him to
wait on the other side of the room and quickly drew the curtain. With trembling
hands, reaching for the phone on the desk, I quietly called security for help.
During the episode, the patient sitting on the stretcher sat there peaceful and
unruffled with a frozen facial expression. Surprised, I concluded he hadn't
passed out because of an adrenaline surge he likely experienced from observing
the whole event. I then described the intruder to security so they could
identify him and take him to the psychiatric unit. I handed the gun over to
them, finished administering to the patient with the fever, and called for the
next patient.
Happily, I haven't
had any more experiences like that.
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