Descriptive Writing: The Patient Room

“Code Blue, ER. Code Blue, ER”. I can still hear that calm, unalarmed voice over the intercom. Seconds later, John Doe, a 50-year-old male, is rushed in through the double doors of the Emergency Room with an EMT pounding on his lifeless chest. Although the medical staff had been preparing for some time, it still appeared like a scramble to resuscitate this man’s life. It was my first shift as a medical scribe; I had no idea what to expect. While paramedics shouted the jargon-filled report, the surrounding chaos was quieted by the physician who maintained the room's composure. The instant the pulse was obtained, I was overcome with a foreign feeling that can only be described as pure exhilaration as if the epinephrine injected into the patient manifested its effects on me.

A music box like sound twinkled with a bright tune throughout the hospital. Its tune was heard from the quiet and calm patient rooms, through the long white hallways, and to the comfortable hospital lobby where I stood waiting. I wonder what that sound was? Well, who cares? I’ve got other things to worry about. It was my first day of volunteering at the Fountain Valley Regional Hospital. The first tasks I was assigned were to greet, to help, and to escort visitors to their destination. My shaky hands were clasped together in an attempt to stay calm. Jeez I hope I don’t get lost while escorting a visitor.

The low ceiling cowered above and the black plastic chairs formed a restless crowd around me. From my seat, I could smell the acute scent of cleaning fluid, whiteboard markers, and the nauseating perfume of the girl sitting next to me. Like so many other students, she exuded concentration. Her brows were drawn as her hand moved rapidly over the testing booklet, only pausing to reposition herself or cast an almost imperceptible sidelong glance. The effortlessness of her actions furthered my anxiety as I began tapping my foot uneasily against the speckled linoleum floor. Through the dusty shades that hung precariously in front the only window in the room, I could see the outline of a solitary building shadowed by the dense gray fog that clung to the courtyard outside. At that moment, I would have given anything to be able to run and scream at the top of my lungs. I had an inexplicable urge to break free from the confinement of that room and what it

“Right this way,” the nurse ahead of me was prompting me to a brightly lit hall that was completely foreign to me. I couldn’t help but be terrified by the sights and sounds around me: people chattering, machines methodically beeping, gurneys rushing past. It was my first time in a hospital and my eyes frantically searched each room looking for any trace of my father. She stopped suddenly and I turned to the bed in front of me but I could not comprehend what I saw. At such a young age, I idolized my father; I had never seen him so vulnerable. Seeing him laying in a hospital bed unconscious, surrounded by wires and tubes was like witnessing Superman encounter kryptonite. My dad’s car accident not only made him a quadriplegic, but also crippled

Who was coming? It was the inspector, Dr. Henkel. The man was as round as a globe. He would dress in his usual green collared shirt, as he waddled down the hallway with his thudding gait. Immediately, once entering the room, he would greet his patients with his warm welcoming smile. In addition, he would sit in his swivel chair, cover his mouth with his surgical mask and then put his dental glasses to carefully examine the x-ray screens. In other words, he was now ready to get

The brown brick building in the back of the school, next to the Orbach Science library, is at first shockingly small in size, the UCR School of Medicine. The golden lettering is easily read from a far distance. The surrounding area is very peaceful and calming where I am able to hear the birds chirp as I walk along the shady pathway. There was not a student in sight. As I entered the brown brick building, it smelled delightfully clean and sanitized. All I could hear was beeping from a machine that I could not identify. As I continued walking, a cool breeze was felt as I passed a classroom that was in session. The interior of the classroom seemed very spacious. The more I continued to explore the building, I discovered the dean’s office, and

I found myself in another room too small for the amount of people in it. The stale smell that clung to the latex of medical equipment offered a resurfacing of bitter inconclusive memories. White coats with clipboards shined lights in my eyes and prodded at my body. They rattled off the questions that had become all too familiar to me and I recited the same lines I have been for the past 13 years...

In this environment, I thrived. I adored the patients I encountered here and was fascinated by listening to the nurses speak. They spoke to each other fast, in their own obscure language. “Is patient x’s blood pressure

“Hey there” John looked over his shoulder at the smiling face of his new coworker. John greeted him as hallway smiled back not wanting to talk since he had woken up at 5:00am that morning. He quickly dashed over to his office and switched on his computer. He thought about the nine years of intensive study that he had to go through. The loud ringing of his pager interrupted his thoughts. He answered a few nurses difficult questions about what medicines to prescribe what to do with a few difficult patients. He placed his phone down a little nervous wondering if he had just killed someone by prescribing the wrong medicine. He grabbed his clipboard, jacket and stethoscope and went to go meet his first patient. “Mrs. Anderson, how are

I hold my breath in anticipation: the moment had finally arrived. What lay behind this door would be formidable, to say the least. However, knowing this only increased my excitement of what was to come. I glanced at my teammates, and a familiar combination of eagerness and anxiety met my eye. Ever-so-cautiously, we open the door and see our patient, awaiting our arrival – the test had begun.

As we focused on finishing up our English tests, Sarah suddenly had a seizure and would have fallen to the floor if I had not caught her. “Help! Someone please get the nurse!” I shouted while holding Sarah’s body and head. “Sarah, Are you ok? Please wake up. Help is on the way.” I urged. However, Sarah did not respond and was unconscious. I could see the fear and anxiety in her eyes, and involuntarily opened mouth. She continued shivering, her whole body turning cold. I rapidly wrapped my arms around her shoulders to keep her warm. It was my junior year of high school and the first time that I had close contact with a “patient.” Nervous and worried, I did my best to comfort her.

Ana Rodríguez Rebecca Balcarcel Creative Writing 2307 April 16, 2018 I felt scared and nervous as we arrived at the hospital, I felt as if I had a hole in my stomach and everything seemed to be spinning. A nurse quickly took me to the back to check my temperature and blood pressure. “How much pain do you have on a scale of one to ten?” “It’s at a 10!”

“Eric Rodriguez? Doctor Gray is ready to see you,” a petite woman shouted. The assistant was dressed in fresh Tory Burch flats, so new her rubber soles were tracing black skids, leaving residue on the freshly polished floors of the doctor’s linoleum. All black scrubs, buttons popping at the seams, her effortless grin wrinkled her cheeks and forehead in excitement. She lead me down a dark hallway lit from the dim opening of a white room at the end of the hall. The door clanked and hinged until it was overhead, sending echoes throughout the office. The pungent smell of disinfectant and rubber gloves grew prominent immediately after the door latched. I smiled. Carefully scurrying through the door, I reached the step on the bed. Lying rather uncomfortably on the examination table while shielding my eyes from the tremendous glare that reflected off the fluorescent lights, I fidgeted nervously, my hand tremor heightened by my level of anxiety, desperately trying to ignore the gloominess of the situation. My heart beat a little faster as I sat there for a moment and took the whole scene in. I attempted to stay focused on staying warm in the

Together we entered the Pharmacy. His voice was calm as he listed the medications I needed to find, which was disassociated from his body language. We both moved with frenetic purpose. Emergent situations could be described as a frenzy, but that could belittle how the providers accomplish their tasks. Every movement we made had consequences evaluated, methodically thought through and carefully executed. Long before this night, Kratt and I were considered the A-Team and this situation only served to prove our hype. We swiftly found the medication to chemically induce an appropriate heart rate and for the moment our tension was relived.

Flashing red and blue lights accompanied by an alarming siren in the distance is signaled when the double doors of the emergency room burst open. Pushed by several nurses, doctors, and other medical staff, a lone hospital stretcher with a bloody, wounded patient flies through the medical center towards the doors to the operating room. This image is what generally comes to mind when you think about an emergency room. Many people believe that the hospital’s emergency room is a dark and scary place. While this is true, the common misconception is that the emergency room is a place clear of humor, when in reality humor is present, even necessary, for many reasons. Many television shows, like the show ER, are based in the setting of the