Emergency Room at Mercy Hospital

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Emergency Room: Descriptive Essay The emergency room at Mercy Hospital is a cluster of confusion, an avoided place, and most definitely not where I want to be tonight. The chair upon which I sit is hard, without any back support, and the rough fabric scratches my skin as I constantly fidget in my seat. Harsh white light from the streetlamp outside the entrance finds itself directly in my eyes. It is no use to squint, or shut my eyes completely; even the darkness behind my eyelids can't hide me from where I am. The harder I squint, the more I can hear the sounds of the chaos around me. The moans from the sick soon-to-be patients waiting to be seen by tired physicians. The mother scolding her child as he continuously pokes at the accidental wound he received at home. When I open my eyes, these people seem to crowd me. While I am seated in the corner, away from the others, these people sit in stark contrast of the pastel walls that seem to say, "It's alright. What could go wrong in a room covered in light pink roses?" From the corner, I can see the blood on the forehead of the small boy directly across from me. A new mother holds a baby with a continuous cough. A man sits as stiff as a board while he holds his arm at an angle across his chest. My knee is throbbing with a dull pain that won't subside. I can see the swelling from under my jeans. I touch the top of my knee and wince in pain. Who am I to complain? The distant sirens closing in on the hospital take me backward.
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