When a bump appeared above my bellybutton and the pain continued, I became worried. We set up camp in Hixon, I planted for two days and was told to stop working until I could see a doctor. So I spent a boring day as a tree checker and grabbed a ride at night into the Prince George Emergency Room.
I entered the Emergency room and signed in with the nicest and admirably patient nurses I have yet to meet. Passing two elderly woman on a stretcher as I went to take my seat, they whispered, “Boy, he’s gonna be here a long time”
It may be a function of an emergency room at 10pm but a room of such sickly people, I had yet to witness.
There were the sickly looking native woman, the sickly looking mustached man, the sickly/pasty looking kid, the obese woman squeezed into chairs, the football jock with a concussion and the constant flow of homeless men. All the while the silence is pierced by the television playing some insidious kids show and the room is made unbearable by the stench of booze.
Before my eyes have time to adjust the sickly/pasty looking kid gets to his feet and projectile vomits onto the sickly looking mustached man. This is the point where I realized would be in for a sad and long evening.
Two hours pass and people have come and gone. The sickly/pasty looking kid has vomited several more times and replacing the obese woman in front of me is a prison inmate and his prison guard. While the prison guard keeps making little remarks about his companions lack of freedom, the prison inmate, while mild mannered, keeps loudly referring to the prison guards salary and current overtime status. This goes back and forth for most of the night.
The football jock was knocked out and does not remember anything from that day. The entire night he repeats the same four or five lines ad nauseum.
“The only thing I remember was watching the UFC last night.” “When does our season start again?” “I feel like I just woke up from a dream.” “It’s funny because I normally have a great memory.” “I watched the UFC last night but don’t know who won.” “My memory is normal so good, this is frustrating.” “What day is it? When does our season start again.” “All I remember is watching the UFC last night.”
At midnight as I’m left wondering, ‘If the kid vomiting over everyone and the jock with a terrible concussion haven’t seen a doctor, when will I’?
I finally get called in and am told not too worry, to return to work but to keep an eye out on my issue and return if it gets any worse. So the doctor doesn’t know whats wrong with me but it’s not a herniated muscle, which would require surgery. He seems to want me to leave his examination room asap and with good reason but I left with the good news I wanted. Good enough I guess? If I am dead within the week from internal bleeding, we all know who to blame.