Your hospital doesn’t ever answer your med radio. Like, ever. You say that I am supposed to call in by telephone, but the number you want me to call gives me voice prompts that tell me to do several things:
- “If this is a medical emergency, hang up and call 911.” Lady, I AM 911. The emergency already happened.
- “Press two for English. Oprima siete para Espanol.” I’ve been in this field since the Clinton Administration, and I have yet to find the need to call a report in anything other than English. I have used Spanish, German, French, and even Sign Language to communicate on the scene of a call, but have yet to meet a nurse that doesn’t have a rudimentary understanding of the English language.
- “Press one for billing inquiries. Press two for radiology scheduling…” Seriously. The chances this bill is getting paid in the first place is slim-to-none, and I sure ain’t the one that’s gonna pay it. And I sure as heck don’t have time to be paying attention to your voice prompts.
Further complicating the matter here are three more things: First, I do not carry my cell phone with me on scene. It stays in the ambulance. My friends and family know what I do for a living, and they know how to get in touch with me without calling or texting. Any communication I do can wait until I am done taking care of my patient. Second, my company does not issue me a cellphone to carry with me. They do issue me a radio, and there is one in the ambulance. The same one that I try calling you on. Lastly; my employer requires me to call reports to a hospital on a recorded line. Interestingly enough, the 800mHz radio channels are recorded while my phone is not.
So I don’t call on the phone. But you know that. And you get mad every single time I show up with a patient who would probably do well to sit in triage until shift change. And every single time, I tell you the three points above. I don’t have a phone in the back. The company does not issue me a phone. My company policy is that all reports have to be recorded.
We should agree to just stop this rigamarole. For real. It gets tiring.
So when I show up all like “Surprise! A paramedic brought a sick person to your emergency room!” you get all mad and hussy and make me wait half an hour before you come into the room to take report. You aren’t fooling anyone. We all know the ER is more than half-empty, because we saw the lack of people in beds when we walked in. We know you aren’t busy, because we heard the conversation you were having with your coworkers. We heard all about those recipes you found on Pinterest, what your friend said about your boyfriend’s best friend’s girlfriend on Facebook. We heard about your new favorite TV show, New Girl.
We heard it all because your nurse’s station is literally behind the room you assigned this patient to.
But it’s okay. This guy is kinda cool. We chatted about his golf game while you thought you were upsetting me by making me wait. If you hadn’t been an uppity bitch, he wouldn’t have invited me to play golf with him.
At freaking Augusta National. For free.
So, thank you. I appreciate your disdain for me. I enjoyed your punishment.