Stephannie Acha-Morfaw
School of Medicine and Public Health, Department of Emergency Medicine
2023
Prose
The third column glared an angry red.
LOS-8:00
She’d already been waiting in the emergency department for 8 hours.
The phone rings. “I’m happy to come see him…” I cut him off and say, “see ‘her’?”
“Sure, see ‘her’ he says. In the end, it’s not our area of expertise, so I”ll probably recommend that ‘they’ see him–” I cut him off again “you mean her?”
“Yes, I’m so sorry, her.”
LOS-12:00
He comes down in a rush, the dark circles under his eyes slightly brightened by a forced smile. “I’m so sorry, I got your other pages. We got stuck in a long case. What room is he in?”
I sigh, then smile and tell him “She is in room 48.”
“Oh yes, she, sorry about that. Male to female, right?”
“Yes, male to female” I reply. “Thank you for coming to see her. She’s been waiting for some time.”
He walks out of the room and I stop him, hoping he can help guide my treatment plan so we can get her what she needs. “Any recommendations?”
“Yeah, I mean he–sorry she, is definitely in a lot of pain, so I would manage that, but I don’t have any other recommendations. I still think ‘they’ need to see her.”
I sigh again. “Yes, I agree. I’ll give them another page. Thanks again for seeing her.”
“No problem–sorry it took so long. She deserves better…I’ll put in a note.”
I sign the order, then walk into her room.
“Hello, how are you feeling? Do you need anything more for pain?”
She plasters a weak smile on her face. “Yes, I could use a little something, thanks.”
“I’m sorry it’s taking so long, but I’ve just repaged them and they should be coming to see you soon. I need them to see you before I can finalize your plan.”
Her eyes reflected the pain I knew I could never fully understand and never completely heal.
I step out of the room, frustrated, embarrassed, angry.
LOS-12:50
“Hello, thanks for calling back. This is a middle aged transgender male to female who uses she/her pronouns. She’s having pain at an old surgical site and I’m not sure what to make of her labs and imaging. The other team saw her and felt you all could be more helpful.”
He quickly replies, “sure, I’ll be down to see him.”
“Her,” I correct.
“Yes, her.”
LOS- 13:00
The phone rings again. “Hello, ED, this is…”
“Hi, it’s me again. I asked my senior. We didn’t do it, so we can’t see him. Sorry.”
“Should that matter?!” I ask, exasperated. “She is far from home and needs medical care and an expertise that you all can provide.”
There’s silence on the other end— “Yeah, sorry, but that’s what I was told.”
“So you’re refusing to see this consult?”
“Um, yeah” he pauses uneasily then quickly says “sorry” again before hanging up the phone.
LOS- 14:30
I enter the room again. This time, I come bearing good news. It took multiple additional phone calls, but finally, they were going to see her.
“Good morning. I’m so sorry for your wait. They will be coming to see you now.”
She gives me another listless smile. “It’s ok. Thank you for doing your best to care for me. I know I’m complicated.”
Gently, I squeeze her hand and she squeezes mine back, before I quietly exit the room.
LOS- 16:00
I make my way home in silence. I left her there, still waiting to be seen. I couldn’t help feeling like I had failed her. Like I could have and should have done more for her.
I enter the shower and finally, I exhale. I release the tightness in my chest I hadn’t realized was sitting there until this moment. With the release, the tears start to fall, freely and unabashedly. Soon I don’t know where the warm water from the shower head begins and the warm, salty tears from my eyes end.
None of this was ok. I’m not ok. I’m angry. She deserved better. What happened to her was not ok. Is there a length of stay for the hurt that discrimination and marginalization leaves on a person?
LOS- ∞