Don’t tell me how long you’ve been waiting

Blame politicians, not us, for crowded ERs, writes Dr. Taylor Lougheed

Please don’t tell me how long you’ve waited.

I just sent a patient from the emergency department to the ICU; she came in unconscious and barely breathing, and it took a team of us working very hard to try to save her. We had to start IVs, put in a breathing tube and order a series of tests. We had to update her loved ones who were waiting anxiously for any news. It took expertise, teamwork and time.

Please don’t tell me how long you’ve waited.

I just came from discussing with a family how their grandfather hit his head harder than anyone hoped for, and has a bleed in the brain. We don’t know if he is going to wake up. The family is understandably quite upset, and we want to try to answer as many of their questions as we can, because they will ultimately have to make hard decisions around his care. It took empathy, understanding and time.

Please don’t tell me how long you’ve waited.

I just came from helping set and cast someone’s broken bone. It’s slippery out there and accidents can happen. It takes a team to sedate someone safely, push and pull the bone back into a healthy position, and to put a cast on so it will heal properly. It took knowledge, experience and time.

Please don’t tell me how long you’ve waited.

It is not because I don’t care, but because I already know. It is printed on the chart I carry, it is highlighted in red on our patient status board and I see it in the packed waiting room. I especially see it on your face when I enter the room.

I know my colleagues — other doctors, nurses, clerks, orderlies, paramedics, residents, students — are all acutely aware of the wait times and would agree that you have been waiting longer than any one of us would want a loved one to have to wait.

What you might not know is that we are already working as fast as possible to see you and your family while still trying to provide safe care. This is something that can seem impossible to do at times. There comes a threshold where going faster isn’t possible physically, mentally or safely, and we seem to be running into this barrier on a regular basis these days.

If you waited a long time to be seen, in some ways it also means you are one of the lucky ones: one of the patients we didn’t have to rush to treat because they were incredibly sick and we feared we might lose them.

Sometimes, if we do end up losing someone, we spend the necessary time to inform the family members, which takes time, empathy and patience. This is not something that should be rushed. Please know that we would afford you and your loved ones the very same care, expertise and respect should you unfortunately require it.

It might surprise you to also know that we have very little power to change how long you wait. The individuals that determine whether our system receives adequate funding are politicians, and, by extension, you as voters. So please don’t tell me how long you’ve waited; my weary ears barely hear it anymore. Please don’t tell the nursing team; they are already overworked and understaffed.

Each time you spend your frustrated energy telling us what we already know and have very little power to change, it serves only to further delay your treatment and discourage a battered but hardworking professional team from a sometimes impossible task.

Tell your politician. Send your MPPs a note telling them how long you waited to be seen by your emergency room doctor, your specialist or your family doctor — if you are lucky enough to have one. Call their office to let them know your concerns. We already know how long you’ve waited — but it seems they don’t.

We are already working as fast as possible ... while still trying to provide safe care.