So Monday night (actually it was supposed to be in the afternoon but anywho) I had to take my daughter to the emergency room. Yes, that should be where I am putting the exclamation point, right? Wrong! The ER I think is in more trouble than my daughter (thank goodness, so far, we are blessed again!!!!).
I have thought and thought how to write this post without sounding like a racist pig. I am not one...a pig anyway, but I guess I have become a racist. I know I was not raised one that is for sure. I have never said the "N" word and don't believe that is ever, and I do mean ever, appropriate. But I am damn sick of the illegals that are draining our system.
After years of dealing with my cart being bumped into when I was shopping and when I gave a smile and an excuse me (even though it was not my fault) I got a frown and a shake of the head (no habla English) I got darn sick of shopping in those areas. I also got sick and tired of the screaming, out of control kids in those same out of control shopping carts. As a matter of fact I learned the demographics of our state as well as I could, so when it came to choosing a Pediatric hospital, I took all of this into consideration; a sad state of affairs, I admit.
Let me paint you a picture of the waiting room at the ER. A mid-twenties couple has their two young sons there; my daughter and I check in with my drivers license and insurance card and have a seat near this couple. I notice that my daughter is staring at them and take a look, that is because they are busily making out while their sons uncontrollably climb on the furniture and the tables! When the youngest starts feeling the pain of the obvious ear infection he is there for he goes crying to his Mama who has no blankey or favorite toy or anything and just continues to talk to the man; the child was pulling her hair to try to get her attention. I was dying to grab a blanket and wrap the boy up and walk the halls like I used to do with my kids when they were ill.
Another family that entered even shocked the guy behind the desk. The mom spoke no English so the oldest son was doing all of the talking. One of the younger boys needed to be seen because his leg hurt. What? No injury, no fall, no bruise, no nothing. The same gentleman that had been so sweet to my daughter, calling her "Sweetie" (and keep in mind he is of Spanish descent too), and gently placed the arm band on her; just tossed the arm band across the counter and said "put this on him and help your mom fill out this medicaid paperwork". I mean the kid was already racing around the waiting room in his wheelchair!
This trip to the ER took us seven hours! We got an ultrasound, blood work and some other various lab work done; nothing that should have taken seven hours. When my daughter was finally cleared to eat I ran to the cafeteria to get us something to eat and the waiting room was three times as full as when we entered; and I didn't hear a word of English as I passed through. The nurses said the wait time by then was four hours just to get in, we had been lucky.
As some of you commenters are going to point out, I have another none of my business point. I was thinking when I was checking every piece of medicine they put into my daughters IV. How could someone who doesn't speak English do this? Really? I checked everything. If they brought a new bag of fluids in, I asked if it was a brand new bag and if they had added anything to it. I asked questions of the Ultrasound tech. At the end when it was determined that we'd try meds, I double checked those. I don't know a young kid on this planet that knows medicine well enough that could translate that back to his Mama!
My last point goes back to my drivers license and insurance card that I had out before I even entered the hospital. I had even had it out earlier in the day when I had taken her to her primary care physician too. As a matter of fact, I have my drivers license out all the time. If I get stopped by a cop, I get it, my insurance and my registration out before the officer even makes it to the window. I get it out when I write a check too.... My point being that I have to prove who I am all the time, what is the big deal? If you have nothing to hide, you should be proud of your paperwork I would think...The folks that we know that have gone through the arduous process of becoming nationalized citizens are damned proud of it! And us, damned proud of them!