ADVENTURES IN MEDICINE

My doctor looked puzzled by what he observed at my navel. He said it might be infected, as I had been told at the walk-in clinic two days earlier, but the solid bump resembled a hernia protrusion. He decided to have me come back the following week but in the meantime would send me to a specialist and have an ultrasound done.

I felt a bit uneasy at the mention of a hernia. A hernia problem equalled surgery in my mind and I dreaded the prospect. Living alone on the second floor of a building without an elevator brought an assortment of problems to mind for the time of recovery after surgery.

It was warm and sunny as I left the health centre. The usual faces of homeless people were there at the outreach half of the centre and a steady flow of cars, trucks and buses moved along Dundas Street. Many of the people who frequent that part of town were familiar to me after eleven years as a volunteer and part-time help at the nearby drop-in coffee house. Most I did not know by name but sight only. Now and then a head would nod in my direction or I heard a quick ‘How’s it goin’?’ from a passerby as I walked west toward my next appointment.

Once settled in for my meeting at Queens Avenue and William Street my cell phone rang. It was my doctor himself calling, not his nurse or receptionist. He wanted me to return to the centre, pick up an envelope of forms and go to emergency at Victoria Hospital. I felt a little knot forming in the pit of my stomach. He had never personally phoned me in the seventeen or so years I had been his patient. He said he was concerned he may have missed something in his examination and wanted the doctors at the hospital to check me over. Securing a ride, I said I would do that and the meeting ended almost before it began.

On the trip to the hospital I stayed talkative and joked often with my driver. At the emergency entrance, as I stepped out of the car, she asked me to let her know how it turned out.

The waiting room seemed smaller than I expected but a dozen or so people, some obviously in pain, were seated there and a good number of seats remained available. Roughly square with a separate area for masked patients and a side aisle with seats leading into the hospital, the waiting room was dominated by a large, semi-circular reception desk that was sealed off with sheets of plexiglass. You spoke to the nurse through several slots in the front panel. No doubt they had their share of frustrated and stressed out people and this safety feature for the receptionist was necessary. The nurse was artificially calm and I had the feeling she’d had a long night.

I was taken in immediately to the triage area through secured doors beside the reception desk. There seemed to not be a lot of room in this area but it was not crowded. Work was being done here and nurses would come and go as well as the occasional paramedic or policeman. A row of several padded chairs marked for triage patients was to my left, two clerk stations to the right and two small rooms for triage nurses to check you were beside those. Behind the clerk stations the large reception booth was open. Double doors led further into the emergency department and a hallway ran off to the left just beyond the padded chairs.