Emergency Room Night Shift Gothic
Gothic of the Medical Student
You enter through the front as per usual. 20 pairs of eyes in the waiting room see into your soul. They demand retribution. There is nowhere to run.
The ER doc tells you to see the patient in room 4. There is no room 4. There has never been a room 4.
There is one patient here who has been here for 16 hours. They have not left their room once. They have many secrets.
The ER doc is telling you about the political climate of the 1980s. You’re not sure if you need to study this later.
You hear someone call your name from the nurse’s station. When you ask they respond that they do not know your name.
“I come here once a week. They always send me home.” Says the frequent flier. You don’t know how to respond.
There is one nurse who has been on during every one of your shifts. When you mention this, they say they haven’t been in for a week.
You don’t know where your preceptor went. The nurses watch but do not approach. You are lost and alone.
There is another student in the ED. They only stare as you pass, eyes empty. The depth of your mutual understanding goes beyond words.
You cannot remember what happened between 2 AM and 5 AM. No one does. It is lost to universe.
A patient refuses to leave until she’s admitted. She says its not rocket science. You wonder if you should tell her a rocket scientist still can’t admit her.
You go in to help with a procedure. It is already complete. No one know when it happened.
Someone asks you what medication a patient needs. You can’t remember any medications. You don’t know who you are anymore.
The nocturnist asks you about the political climate of the 1980s. You have answers.
You are sent into remove a foreign body from an orifice. There is no foreign body. There is only fear.
You hear a scream in the distance. It’s too far away to be in the ER. You are told to check it out anyways.
There is blood on the floor. There are no external injuries or trauma patients. There is no trail.
“An MI.” You say. The ER doc accepts this answer. It never mattered what the question was.
You see a provider with brightly colored hair. You do not know what they do. You never see them again.
There is a smell that starts to waft around 1 AM. You ask the charge nurse about it. They say it will pass and nothing more.
There is no one in the doctor’s lounge. The coffee machine turns itself on. It knows.
During hand off, the new ED doc mentions the political climate of the 1980s. You don’t know what year it is anymore.
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