Emergency Room Stories: Chaos, Compassion, and the Things You Don’t See

To finish up my “health” related posts this month, I thought I’d share some stories from my time working in an Emergency Department a decade or so ago.

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I started working at a local hospital in (I think) 2009 as a housekeeper (or “Environmental Services”, to make it sound more professional). Did that for two years before they changed management and I got pissed off & quit (more like threw my badge at them, told them to shove it, reminded them that I busted my ass for that place, and continued to bitch the whole way out the door. I’m not even exaggerating in the slightest.)

I went back a couple years later, with the intention of finding something better to do within the realm of healthcare. After an additional year of grinding my teeth in “Environmental Services”, I transferred to the Emergency Department as a “Patient Care Assistant” (which is basically a nursing assistant with no formal education & barely any training).

I hated it.

That’s a lie.

I resented the fact that I was supposed to spend 2 months training with a preceptor, but I only got 2 weeks (which amounts to a whopping 4 days on 12 hour shifts). Nobody gave a fuck – I talked to supervisors, managers, the union… no help. The company’s motto at the time was “Taking care of you is what we do”, yet they didn’t even take care of their own.

I also resented the fact that 97% of my coworkers were jaded, bitter, and lacking basic human compassion & decency. And lazy. Very fucking lazy – on other floors of the hospital, a PCA’s job is routine, set, and responsive to the assigned patients’ & nurses’ requests; in the ER, you do whatever you can, whenever you can, for whoever you can, and you do it with a sense of urgency. Well, that’s how I perceived it.

I digress.

I actually loved that job. I just never felt like I knew what I was doing (even though I did) because I was cheated out of adequate training, and I hated my bitch ass coworkers.

I loved the perpetual chaos, especially from working overnights. All 40 rooms were full, with at least 10 people in the waiting room at all times, for the first 6-8 hours of each shift. It was beautiful fucking chaos!

I loved constantly checking the board to see what I should do next. Part of my personality is “What’s the problem? What do we have to do to make it at least 1% better? Let’s do that…now!” Worked great in the ER, and with a lot of situations in life! Get shit moving & resolved ASAP so we can all move on with our lives.

And I loved briefly meeting & being able to help such a huge variety of people. That’s why I liked working in gas stations too – “What do you want? Here you go, get out of my store”, with the occasional deep conversation about religion and psychology and every other random thing you can think of. Working on other floors, a PCA would typically have the same patients until they were discharged; I didn’t want that. I love a quick turnover.

Despite the somewhat brief interactions, I learned from & loved a little bit of a lot of people. I found that I excel at making the uncomfortable as comfortable as possible, with humor & compassion – that’s the art behind the science of healthcare.

The ER isn’t just medicine – it’s humanity under pressure.

Here’s some stories…

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The Bloody Nose Nun

I hate blood. It’s just not something that belongs outside of the body, in my opinion. Yeah, I know – probably not a good idea to work in an ER then. Shuddup 😉

One of my very first patients as a PCA in the ER was a nun. She said she was just sitting in her chair after dinner, knitting a blanket & watching TV, when her nose started bleeding. So, assuming the air was dry & it would resolve itself, she shoved a tissue up her nostrils & kept on knitting. After an hour, it just kept getting worse. So she paid us a visit. My job was to hold a bath towel against her nose for about 15 minutes until a doctor could come shove tampons up her face (that’s pretty literally the only thing you can do, so long as it isn’t a surgery-requiring hemorrhage).

I’m good for 5-10 minutes, but…I got to a point where I was gonna pass out & need to be admitted. That’s how much she was bleeding. Talking about hazing the newbie!

The ALS Wife

I was asked to go into a room and hold the older gentleman’s hand while he was intubated, to try to keep him calm. So I did.

While they were preparing to intubate, I overheard the doctors say that he had ALS. If you’ve been paying attention around here, ALS runs in my family.

When they were all done, they told me I could leave.

But I seemed to be the only one even noticing his devastated wife sitting there alone. So, I sat down with her.

I told her my name, my role at the hospital, mentioned that ALS runs in my family so I can relate in a small way to what she’s gone through as a caregiver, and offered any help I could – “if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, especially me. A blanket, someone to listen, a hug, a dozen donuts? I got you!” She thanked me, & I continued about my day.

When they transfer anyone who’s been intubated to another part of the hospital, an entire team needs to accompany the patient in case they code (stop breathing) on the way. I was asked to be part of the team while he was transferred to the ICU.

When we got to the ICU entrance, I was told to go back to the ER. His wife was asked to wait in the waiting room (in case there was a problem while getting him situated in his new death bed). I couldn’t leave her standing there helpless & alone, so I asked if she wanted a hug. She grabbed onto me & wouldn’t let go, which was fine. I held her while she cried, and I gently told her she should use this time with him to reminisce about the good times they had, remind him that she’ll be ok so that he can have some peace, and be grateful for the opportunity to tell him how much she loves him & say good bye. I reminded her that she will be ok, even though grief is an asshole, and to be patient with herself, & seek support wherever & whenever she needs it. When they let her in to the ICU, I wished her well & headed back to the ER.

Now, I’m not sharing this story to pat myself on the back or anything like that at all. I’m sharing this story as an example of how life sometimes throws people at you who you can genuinely help in some way, and its best to take the opportunity to be a decent human. That story still breaks my heart, but I’m glad I might have given her some warmth in that cold hospital.

That’s when I realized that sometimes your job isn’t to fix anything. It’s just to be a human in the room.

The Enema Guy

Yeah, part of my job was “soap suds enemas”. Gross. I’d hide if I saw that on the board & couldn’t find anything else to do. I’m not even joking.

Well, one time I couldn’t hide, so I went into the room.

The gentleman was probably in his 50’s. Kinda handsome.

I told him my name, my role at the hospital, and…he interrupted me.

“You’re not doing this, are you?!?” he said.

“I was asked to, yeah. Is that ok?” I replied.

He looked even more uncomfortable than a guy needing an enema should.

“Is it because I’m a pretty young lady?” (Not to toot my own horn, but I was in my late 20’s.)

“Yeah, pretty much!” he laughed.

I laughed too. “I understand, but trust me, you’d rather I do this than anyone else in this department – I’m way more intuitive & gentle than most of my coworkers here tonight. Seriously. I’ll make this as quick & painless as possible, ok?”

He grumbled & hesitantly agreed.

I’ll spare the details, but I truly did everything I could to make it as quick, painless, & as least humiliating as possible for him. Including bringing a commode into his room & closing the curtain (which most of my coworkers didn’t have the decency to do).

I saw him as he was being discharged & on his way out the door, so I said I was glad he was feeling better. He thanked me (a lot!) & said he hoped he never sees me again, either in the hospital or in public 😂

The Fatal MVA

So, a guy died in a car accident. Totally not his fault, either. He was in his mid to late 30’s, had a wife and 2 young sons.

The EMTs brought him to the hospital so his family could come & identify the body.

My job was to clean him up from the shoulders up so that his family wouldn’t be even more traumatized when they saw him.

He was bloody. And dead AF. How sad.

As I gently & lovingly scrubbed every dried speck of blood off his face, neck, & out of his hair, it was like I could feel his spirit lingering, going “what the fuck?!?” I quietly talked to him so that my coworkers wouldn’t think I’d snapped – apologized for his situation, told him his family will be ok & he’ll always be remembered & all that stuff.

After his family left, I was asked to be part of the team to transfer him to the morgue. So I did. We said a prayer for his spirit before we shoved his ass in the cooler, which was surprising out of my coworkers (not all of them were completely burnt out and disconnected!)

The Cellulitis Kid

A call came through the intercom. A young man was asking for a blanket. So I brought him a blanket.

He was kinda cute, but totally not my type – tall, football player type. We got into conversation, with him explaining that he was being admitted to another floor overnight pending surgery for the absolutely brutal cellulitis that had developed on his arm from an infection he’d gotten. As I left, he asked for my number. I politely declined, mentioning that he was too young for me besides the fact that I was engaged.

Still I made sure I brought him up to his room myself 😆 And then grabbed him some donuts for after his surgery with a little “get well” note before I left work for the day.

A couple months later, a young man came in via ambulance with “the worst shoulder dislocation anyone’s ever seen”. Nobody knew what to do, so they loaded him up with morphine while they figured it out.

I was busy with a million other things, so I only noticed the situation, not the person.

While standing at the nurses station, on the other side of the ER from his room, I heard someone yell my name with their outdoor voice, and then he yelled “I LOVE YOU!!!”

Oh my god it was so funny – all the bitchy nurses were stink eye-ing me so hard, I just laughed my ass off.

So I went into his room, tried to get him to calm down a little so I could get back to the 30+ other people I could actually help, and he chilled after that. He was flying though, LOL. I don’t even remember how they got his shoulder back into the socket…I think he needed surgery…again.

The Pitcher

About 2:00 in the morning, I was doing stuff. As I walked by one of the rooms, I heard someone say to me ”what are you doing?!? Get in here!”

All the female employees in the unit were in one room.

I didn’t know what was going on, so I stepped in & inquired.

“That drunk asshole in 3 took a swing at Kim!”

“…..and? He’s drunk. Swing back.”

“You’re crazy!”

I stepped out of the room to look around the department & see if I could find him. My favorite coworker, Nurse Donny, was trying to trap him with another male nurse & a security guard so they could restrain him because he was running amok.

Don came over & told me to get in the room. I laughed.

“I could flash him – I bet he’d be so caught off guard he’d stop dead in his tracks!”

“You’re killin’ me” Donny laughed.

“I’ve been in enough mosh pits, this dumb drunk fuck don’t scare me. Where is he? I’ll help you corner him!”

Just then the security guard got a hold of him, and then the cops showed up.

I was disappointed. I had some stress I needed to release 😂

Heroin Jesus

Early Easter morning (about 4am), a young man about 17 years old overdosed on heroin with his friends. They threw him in their car & rushed him to our ER. He died en route.

ER staff threw him in the trauma room. My job was to hold a leg down. 3 doses of Narcan later, that little shit came back like a bat out of hell. I’ve never seen anything like it – absolutely wild.

They stabilized him & moved him to a regular ER room. My job was to keep him awake & breathing to try to get his oxygen reading back to a safe level so that he wouldn’t have to be intubated before being transferred to the children’s hospital.

So I slapped him for a couple hours. Told him he’s lucky to be alive, so he better not fuck up like that ever again. Told him repeatedly he better do something good with his life from then on. And called him Heroin Jesus cuz he died & came back on Easter Sunday.

He didn’t need to be intubated.

Other Heroin Guy

We didn’t have too many drug problems come to our hospital, surprisingly.

One guy got to me though.

He was a “regular” – he was in our ER at least monthly because he’d devastated his body with drugs for so long, he was on his way out of this life. And he knew it. And he regretted it. Deeply.

When I could, I’d sit & talk with him because he really needed someone to talk to. He’d given up on himself a long time ago. No matter how hard he tried, how many times he’d been to rehab, how strongly he knew better – his addiction was just too strong. And, eventually, it won.

Very sad. He seemed like a good, caring, smart person when he had some clarity. Quite the shame.

“Crazy” Thyroid Lady

(This one really got to me too.)

I kept noticing room 14 needed an EKG done. Every time I had the chance, I’d go to do it, but there would already be somebody in there with an EKG machine. This happened about 4 times before I finally said to my coworkers, “hasn’t anyone done the EKG for 14 yet?!?”

“That bitch is crazy. She won’t let anybody do it!”

So, I grabbed an EKG machine & headed on in. I tend to be good with the “crazies”.

I introduced myself, told her my role in the department, & told her what I was going to do. I could tell she was frazzled as fuck. I told her she didn’t need to tell me anything that was going on, especially since I’m not a medical professional, but that I’m listening if she wanted to talk.

She told me she had a thyroid issue. When her thyroid is throwing her hormones off, she acts “a little weird”. She was acting a little weird, so her friend insisted she come to the ER & get her hormone levels checked. Now that she was in the ER, her anxiety had skyrocketed and she was having flashbacks to when she’d been sexually assaulted many years prior, but didn’t know why that was coming to her then. She said it was violent.

Obviously (to me), it was coming to her because all these strange men (doctors) were grabbing (although somewhat gently) at her throat to check the size of her thyroid. Plus, she was in a hospital gown, and PCAs were violating her personal space trying to hook her up to monitors and EKG machines. It only makes sense.

So, I was extra gentle with her. Got her to calm down and think her way through her current situation. I promised to do whatever I could to ensure only female staff assisted her, wherever possible (though we didn’t have any female doctors on staff that night). She thanked me, & relaxed quite a bit in comparison.

I brought the EKG read out to her assigned doctor, and then went to the head nurse to let everyone know she really needed female staff to help her as much as possible; I even offered to be the sole PCA to help with whatever she needed.

“WHY?!?” One of the cunt nurses overheard me & butted in.

The head nurse just stared at me like he was wondering why too, so I told them she was experiencing PTSD symptoms and needed fewer males around her.

“Well, I’ve been raped before – get over it!” the cunt blurted out loud enough for half the department to hear. (Obviously, she wasn’t “over it”, so why would she expect someone else to be?!?)

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!?” I asked as I walked away to help another patient. She blabbered on about how her husband assaulted her once, and I just couldn’t even. I had to walk away before I slapped her.

That’s the kind of shit that bothered me – not the blood, the overdoses, the disgusting cellulitis or enemas… The atrocious behavior & perspectives of certain (too many) coworkers. It fucking killed me to be around people like that. Now, I have a fucked up sense of humor, & I have my limits, but… I kinda feel like you should still have some sense of basic human decency to work with patients, especially in an emergency care setting. Fuck.

When it was time for “14” to be admitted to the floor, I noticed a male PCA grabbed her cart before I got the chance. I stopped him (not just because he was a man, but also because he was the kind of person who…I would literally rather die than let him help me). We actually got into an argument, because I insisted I take her up to the floor – He got pissy & I won. She thanked me.

The Actual Crazy Lady

About 5am, nurse Jason asked if anyone could “take the crazy lady in 28 up to the floor”.

It was very unusual for him to call anyone crazy, so I wanted to see just how crazy she was.

She was pretty crazy. I felt bad for her. And her husband.

A few years prior, I had a woman come into my gas station bitching up a storm about the fact that her credit card was being declined at the pump. The problem was her card. She disagreed. After screaming at & berating me for a solid couple minutes, her husband came in & told her to go wait in the car. He proceeded to apologize for her behavior, explain that she has an unknown medical problem that she’s being evaluated for, & then vented about how she was never like that, he doesn’t know what happened, he’s overwhelmed with taking care of her, & he hopes the doctors can help her get back to the sweet woman she used to be.

And here we are again, in the ER. I think her husband actually recognized me, but couldn’t remember from where (gas station is a far cry from ER I guess).

Bless his sweet soul, he was still taking care of her. And he was completely depleted; I could tell.

Assuming from meds, she was practically catatonic. Unresponsive. Still physically able to get up & get in a wheelchair…eventually. Which she then purposely “had an accident” in once we got up to the floor. I told her husband I would get a nurse to help me clean up her & the wheelchair, and he insisted he take care of her because there’s no way she’d let anyone else do it. So he did his thing, & I did mine. I offered some kind words & anything he wanted for free from the donut shop downstairs, but he declined. In retrospect, I probably should’ve brought him a sandwich or some tea anyway.

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“Live your life so you have stories to tell” is something I’ve always believed.

But working in the ER taught me something deeper:

You don’t just collect stories —

you become part of other people’s stories, often at their worst moments.

So if you take anything from this:

Be kind. Be patient. Be human — especially when it’s inconvenient.

You never know what someone else is carrying.

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What’s a moment in your life that stuck with you — for better or worse? Remember – Always Tell Your Story

I’d genuinely love to hear it. 💚

Stay real. Stay loud. And rock the fuck on. 💚🤘🏻