So, here we are 6:00 am Thanksgiving morning, and I wake my husband to tell him he has to take me to the hospital.

I seldom visit the Doctor let alone ask to be taken to the hospital. So, instant panic for my DH!  In order for me to go, he knew I had to be in pain.

It was the lower right side back to front and it was excruciating. In my coherent moments, and being wonderful at self diagnosis, I thought perhaps it was an ovary gone bad, or appendicitis. Neither was a pleasant thought as I struggled my way into emerge.

I have to admit that I have heard all the horror stories, and very few good ones, so those are the thoughts going through my head at the time, when I had any energy left to think. I was not looking forward to the horrible treatment I was sure awaited me.

I'm not sure I have ever taken the time to consider the work these people do. I'm sure I have taken them for granted because I don't do doctors or hospitals well. I avoid them at all cost.

So having experienced their particular brand of humanitarianism during my very brief but painful experience, I have re-evaluated my thought process and find I am wanting.

The Doctors are not the people who carry the health profession. It is instead the workers throughout the hospital that make it run smoothly. They take the curses and complaining, the screaming and name calling and very rarely see a smile or hear a thank you.

I know I am guilty of doing this myself - I say "Thank you" to the Doctor when things are finally "fixed", but I rarely remember to thank the many other people who have made that journey through the pain with me.

You've all watched ER or similar TV programs and have heard the word Triage - right? Me too. But did I know the meaning? No. Did I care to find out what it meant? No. I was content to live my life without that tidbit of knowledge. But, I have to say, I know what it means now because I came home after my personal episode of ER and looked it up.

"Sorting and allocating aid on the basis of need for or likely benefit from medical treatment or food."

The first step at the emergency room is going through "Triage". At the time you want to shake them and yell at them to shut up and just fix this thing. After all, isn't that why they are there? And don't they realize you are in PAIN?

Just from my own personal experience, I have to say that I cannot even begin to imagine some of the horrible things that people say and do to these wonderful angels of mercy. I cannot promise to keep that in mind if I ever have to visit another emergency room, but I hope I can.

They know what to look for, they know the questions that have to be asked. Be sure to listen to the questions of these very knowledgeable people. Stop thinking they need to shut up and just fix the problem. They are asking the questions that must be answered. I know, the pain doesn't care to wait for the answers, but you will be thankful later that the time was taken.

Those machines and gadgets you find in ER, they are well oiled machinery used to determine vital statistics that are good for your health.  Those who wield the power, are those who know how to use them. 

Not only did the nurses at Triage have to deal with my miserable disposition, but so did everyone else along the way. Pain is not my friend. I am allergic to pain. I say that in my own defense because I'm sure I probably said or did something along my journey to passing that dang kidney stone to one of those good people who were trying to aid me.

The poor man who administered the pain killer wasn't too happy that I didn't think he gave me enough. Good drugs are hard to come by it seems. He had to come back and try again. I don't think I thanked him.

And traveling through all those stages, right beside me, was my husband. He was very patient in answering some of the questions that I felt were stupid (at the time).

I know what it's like to watch a loved on in pain, wishing you could help - even willing to take the pain from them if it were possible.

I don't think I thanked him either.

Well let me just say, that I much prefer delivering a baby than a kidney stone. You wouldn't think so if you consider the babies weighed in over 8 pounds each, and the kidney stone maybe 100th of an ounce (if that). At least the pain of delivering the baby, gives you something at the end to cherish, nurture and love. Delivering a kidney stone gives you pain. Period.

I have learned it is probably a good idea to come to emerge with a list so that you can intelligently answer their questions. Better yet, it's a good idea to bring along your husband, or someone who will be able to answer most of those questions with self restraint and without glaring, growling and barring their teeth.

When they ask you if you are allergic to any medication, rest assured, that is information they need! When they ask you if you have ever had an operation, or been admitted for anything before, that helps them in the diagnosis process.

I have developed a healthy respect for the people who work at the hospital. I have learned that the Doctor's, while paid much more, really don't do all the work. The lady who takes your nonsense at triage, the nurse who sticks you with the intravenous needle (your life line to fluids, and those good drugs), the person who administers the pain killer, the technician who takes the cat scan or ex-rays, the anesthesiologist, the volunteers who show you where to go and cheerfully answer your questions - they all deserve your thanks just as much as the Doctor who shows up to confirm all of their hard work.

I have learned that It's always a good idea to prepare ahead of time. Who knew that preparing all the fixings for a wonderful Thanksgiving Dinner the day before was going to be a godsend?

And finally, I trust I have learned that everyone in the Emergency at the hospital has a job to do, knows how to do it and I need to be thankful.

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