Just another night in major emergency

Smith-Gorvie stays on for a few extra minutes to update the overnight staff on the status of patients remaining within the department. The man who drank too much Chinese wine is fast asleep; Margaret is finally being moved by EMS personnel; Maria is being transported to the hospital’s coronary care unit; Donald is lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling; while Lois is on her scooter ready to go. It turns out that she has a urinary tract infection and will be placed on antibiotics. The swelling in her legs was caused by excess water in her system; she’ll need a higher dosage of diuretic pills to decrease the amount of liquids moving down her body and into her legs. The fate of the assault victim is unknown, as is the condition of the coughing man whose screams only a few hours ago filled the entire emergency department. Every patient who entered Smith-Gorvie’s area was either treated and released or sent to another department for more extensive tests and monitoring. Part of being a doctor, she says, is playing a small role in a larger story comprised of different scenes that unfold in other parts of the hospital.

When Smith-Gorvie finally leaves, she exits via the northwest doors and walks out into the dark humid night. The streets are vacant, except for a few teens on the opposite side of the street, twirling around on their BMX bikes. She walks briskly toward the Queen Street subway station. On the train, she sits down, turns on her iPod and listens to Radiohead. Four stops later she’s making her way to her one-bedroom apartment near the busy intersection of Yonge Street and Bloor Street. After watching a little TV to relax, she’ll phone her mom in Winnipeg. She won’t conduct any medical experiments in margarine containers tonight. She’ll go over the day’s patients, and prepare for her next shift.