The Death Of Carthage Hospital

The man sat in the booth across from me studied me with old eyes. His wrinkles which formed when he used to smile so much are no longer quite as prominent. The man’s irises were currently an icy blue, resembling the seasonal weather among the small town. This I only knew because I’ve seen him once before. His eyes were almost like a crisp auburn- resembling what was known to him as “the falling of the children”

A music box like sound twinkled with a bright tune throughout the hospital. Its tune was heard from the quiet and calm patient rooms, through the long white hallways, and to the comfortable hospital lobby where I stood waiting. I wonder what that sound was? Well, who cares? I’ve got other things to worry about. It was my first day of volunteering at the Fountain Valley Regional Hospital. The first tasks I was assigned were to greet, to help, and to escort visitors to their destination. My shaky hands were clasped together in an attempt to stay calm. Jeez I hope I don’t get lost while escorting a visitor.

Robert Herrick, an English poet, once said, “Hell is no other but a soundlesse pit, where no one beame of comfort peeps in it.” Picture any type of Hell with relief, happiness, or even the smallest crack of a smile. There is no place. In fact, one can only think of the complete opposite, whether it is a Hell filled with neglect, pain, disgust, or a never-ending life of horror. This is the place created by Dante Alighieri; The Inferno is exactly the type of Hell where no person would want to be. Even those who acted upon the lightest of sins suffered greatly. While each realm contained a different sinner, the punishment that each were forced to face was cruel, repulsive, and sometimes rather disgusting. Through grieving tears without an

Gardner, he was the head surgeon, who already knew my family as he did my eldest sister’s tonsillectomy. Next to him was a younger doctor whose face I couldn’t see and there were 3 other nurses-unfortunately I didn’t learn their names so we are going to call them by the colors they were wearing, Pink Nurse, Purple Nurse, Blue Nurse, and Green Nurse- standing around with them all talking and laughing around. Glad they’re getting a kick out of this and that they’re excited. I stood alone for a moment just as still as a statue but a small as a pebble. The Purple Nurse walked from my side to the small locker wall unlocked one of them pulled out one of the infamous hospital gowns, the ones I had heard about, seen on TV, and seen on other people but never have I worn one. “If you just want to take this and go into one of the bathroom right here you can change out of your clothes and into this we’ll wait out here for you.” She told me handing me the pale blue and white gown jestering to the bathroom. “Any make sure to leave your underwear on.” Added quietly to me before I walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

“Whatever I say,” he replied with a smile of triumph. “I will show up when needed to have things done… right,” he said as he turned to walk out of the room. “I’ll keep in touch with you, Dr. Flanagan.”

Standing almost six feet tall, she walks down the looming white halls of the hospital, her lithe-framed body softly oscillating.. Wendi Briseno combs her thin fingers through her medium-length pale brown hair; a breath of warm air sweeps from between her lips. Lives are saved by the hour because of her, and the wellbeing of many is enhanced due to her imminent solicitude. As she thinks of her contribution to the vigor of many, a smile stretches across her face, and her shiny braces become evident. Lightly applied makeup is smudged as she gently prods at her ice blue eyes. A long hallway lay before her, and her eyes trail along this hallway. Eventually, they discover her destination: the break room.

Smith I’m Dr. Turney. I apologize for running a little behind I was with another patient but we can get started right away.”

'Let's get moving. Time to perform a little doctor patient routine.' Though jovial words left Buzz's lips, his tone was solemn and shadowed.

The doctor turns to Sister Anne. “Give Ms. Bachlein and Mr. Schmidt an appointment two weeks from now.”

Williams was seated on the right hand corner of the main desk area so he was closest to the entrance door. He is roughly around fifty, bald, very in shape, and a wide smile. I shake his hand and say, “Thanks for letting me shadow you.” He says, “Yep, grab a seat, kid. We’re not as busy as usual and now’s the time to ask me questions.” I pull up a chair but then two female nurses come over and put their hands on his shoulders and laughing said, “Welcome back, Dr. Williams! We’re taking a group picture and you have to join in.” All of the nurses, transcribers, and Dr. Williams are laughing, and from the outside looking in, it seems very evident that they were all close friends. Dr. Williams is back from a vacation where he had been fishing and camping with other doctors in the deep wilderness of Canada. Lebanon’s ER was on a friendly level but nothing like this. It is great and I am looking forward to the six hours shadowing him in the

During the thought, I am questioning why I am so calm. This certainly is not the same kid who anxiously waited in the examination room just a few weeks ago. I realize the experience of my knee surgery has transitioned me from childhood into adulthood through my community. I suddenly snap out of this train of thought when I see my surgeon approaching me.

It was February 16, 2016; when I woke up that morning to get ready for school, I had no idea that this day would end up changing my life. My senior year of high school, I was accepted into a clinical internship class, and today was my first day at a clinical site. For my first clinical rotation I was assigned to the Emergency Room. I left school at 1:05 to go to my clinical site; it was cold outside and the wind was subtlety blowing.

“He doesn’t look like a monster anymore,” the head surgeon announced to his team. Standing not ten feet away from the surgical table, I could hear the surgeon’s words perfectly. First shock, then realization, and finally anger all hit me in the small room. How could someone entrusted with the patient’s well-being utter such a statement? The little boy who had just undergone surgery to repair his cleft lip would never know that the surgeon who ultimately saved his life had also called him a monster, yet his words would hold significant meaning for me. They would spark my determination to become a doctor who practices with integrity and compassion.

“Well, that’s good.” Then, the doctor suggested, “Maybe you should try and move around a little bit.”

The hospital is a place in which I am very familiar. I have vivid memories of being a small child wandering down the hospital hall, clinging on to my mother’s hand – my eyes wide with apprehension. To this very day, I am still not a fan of hospitals. Then again, who is? I remember the sterile white room at the hospital, the doctors dressed in their sharp white coats and the astringent anti-bacterial smells wafting down the hall. I did not know what to expect.