Unprofessional

Early this morning (way earlier than I would have preferred), I escorted one of my closest friends to an outpatient surgery center so that he could get an upper GI endoscopy done. In layman's terms, they were checking out his digestive tract, from his stomach up. The procedure required general anesthesia; and, thus, our fearless patient was unable to drive himself home. Thus, the reason for my presence.

I don't know exactly what the staff throught of my presence, but most of them treated us with due diligence and a helpful attitude. The doctor performing the procedure even came out after it was over to inform me of what had happened and how everything went. Not that I really wanted or needed the information; but it was nice to be informed and to feel a little bit involved.

I didn't really think anything of it until a short, red-haired nurse in her mid-thirties called me into recovery to be with my friend as he began to wake up. She called the 'family of" to recovery. I didn't hear her the first time, but when she loudly and irritatingly shouted his name again, I followed her through the marked door. Dismissingly she told me where the bathroom was, where to find a beverage, etc, and escorted me to the recovery booth I needed to be in. I sit down and wait. She quickly goes over some post-procedural guidelines to follow and has me sign a form that says I have been informed of said information. She then returns to the nurses station. I notice that the paper I have just signed has been signed on a line marked 'patient or significant other.' She returns shortly later and asks if my friend is able to walk out, which he is not even close to being so, realizes he is not and returns to her chitchatting and bantering with the other nurses. In the midst of it I begin to hear a conversation among them about a man of 31 that one of them knew that had never been married. They laughed about the fact that his grandmother excused it to "waiting for the right one," instead of just acknowledging the fact that he was gay. Our nurse returns two or three times later, each time pushing a little more sternly for us to get our things together to get out of the facility and on home.

I begin to think about it, and I realize that this nurse in fact has pegged us as a couple (which is the farthest thing from the truth) and has decided that she is tired of dealing with us and wants us out of this facility as quickly as possible. And on top of that, our presence has spawned a conversation on the subject of gay people among the 5 or 6 nurses idling nonchalantly at the central work station. I grow increasingly irritated at this point and try to coax my friend into a slightly more conscious state so that he can dress. He tries for his pants, but is slow at it. He keeps asking me the same questions over and over because he cannot remember asking me and cannot remember my answers as he is still dragged down by the anesthesia. Eventually he is able to get his clothes back on and sit up in the bed. The nurse returns after a rather long hiatus and opens the curtain that has been pulled shut for some time. She gives me a look like, 'thank God I can finally get rid of you two," and pulls out his IV, replacing it with cotton and surgical tape.

At that point, I was very tired of being there and go to pull the car around to then escort my friend away from there and on to his home to rest. I am glad he was too groggy to grasp the situation as it was highly unprofessional if nothing else. The entire rest of the experience was cordial and very informative, but that last nurse left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Although she didn't flat out say anything derogative or offensive, her demeanor and her attitude spoke for itself. Whenever I think the world is progressing, it seems that something always proves me wrong.