This past Wednesday my wife went to step onto our boat and she slipped and slammed into the bottom of the deck. She made a really, really loud crashing sound and then yelled really loud "I broke my fucking arm." I went into EMT mode and got her layed out straight and lifed her hand away from her wrist she was holding and exclained "Jesus christ, you broke your fucking arm!!" Her hand was no longer directly aligned with her arm. Checked for feeling and movement in her fingers, looked for other trauma then got the boat tie down and got her up and moving toward the car.
Raced from Englewood, FL to Venice FL in record time. . . for me. Really, we got to the Venice Hospital in less than 15 minutes. . . 80 MPH on 776 and Highway 41 (yea, that highway 41).
She started to get dizzy and sick at the ER and her BP dropped. The EMT-P doing triage in the waiting room didn't seem to note those things. . . in fact, he wrote her diastolic down as 61 instead of 51. I corrected him and layed wifey on the ground and elevated her feet.
Long story short. . . hospital staff sucked. Surgeon who spent 2 hrs putting her wrist back together was great with lots of experience and impeccable credentials.
Me, I did OK, but found out why my father-in-law never treated his family. Too emotional. I got very emotional when I looked at the x-rays and then when I called our personal doc (who is also a good friend) and began describing everything to him.
I can't not personalize my family. Their pain and trauma is mine.