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A man carrying a clipboard chats with a young couple in Spanish as he escorts them to the door. The woman holds a baby wrapped in a blanket. I can’t make out or understand the conversation, but the couple is clearly relieved and appreciates the man who appears to be the hospital’s staff translator.
Later, a family of four, the mother in hijab, arrive through the emergency room doors with their own translator; a slender, dark-haired man who gives the desk nurse all the information she needs, moving back and forth between the two.
I wonder if there is any space in my community more equitable than this hospital waiting room. The diversity of socioeconomic class, race, gender, religion and language spoken does not dictate who gets treated when. Here, the system is based on need. Whoever has need gets help. Whoever’s need is more urgent gets help first.
A man who appears to be unhoused walks in (the staff greet him; he’s been here before) and wanders over to the vending machines to buy a bag of chips and help himself to a cup of hot coffee. Here, no one is turned away.
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