Treat others …

Commentary by Michelle Fitzhugh-Craig

For most people, the last place you want to visit is the emergency room — especially on a Saturday night.
   Traditionally, these dens of sickness, trauma and drama are often understaffed with overworked employees who care about helping people but are forced to see their share of the community through the lives of others. This can make it a little hard to be “oh so cheery” and provide “service with a smile” 24/7.
    This seems to be especially true with medical facilities run by county governments. Because they often cater to lower-income, uninsured individuals, the stigma is that the service is of lesser quality. There is usually a long wait to be seen by a doctor, and the waiting rooms are filled with anyone and everyone. Oh … and everyone who works there is rude and would rather be anywhere else but there.
    I’m here to say, don’t believe that hype.
    In Oakland, the Alameda County Medical Center’s Highland General Hospital is the county’s main hospital and trauma center for the area. Since it opened its doors to the public in 1927, its mission has been “to improve the health of all county residents regardless of ability to pay” with compassion.
    Now I’m not trying to give Highland a thumbs-up review in an attempt to provide free advertising. Nor am I here to say this should be your hospital of choice for whatever emergency needs you may have. In fact, the powers that be at the Oakland trauma center have no idea I am writing this column — which, honestly, isn’t about them.
    It’s about a woman who works at the medical facility. And if you’re ever so inclined or must visit this hospital’s ER, trust me, it’s during her shift that you want to arrive.
    Her name is Cynthia, and I’ve had the pleasure of visiting her not once but twice. With multicolored rectangular glasses sitting at just the right angle on her nose, light green scrubs and purple converse sneakers, she lights up the ER, acting as a beacon to all who enter.
    With her trusted blood pressure machine and digital thermometer at her side, Cynthia checks in newcomers and finds out what ails them. The experience is similar to being comforted by your mom or grandmother after getting a scraped knee from falling or after being bullied by someone at school.
    Cynthia gives everyone — and I do mean everyone — her unconditional care and attention: The Chinese boy with the head injury who, unable to speak English, came in with his four friends; the Hispanic couple who left after hours of waiting, he on crutches with his ankle wrapped — “Bye y’all … be good and take care of that man,” she hollered as they headed home; and the African American man who made sure he stopped to let her know he was being discharged.
    She has Spanish speakers laughing with her when she tries to communicate with them in their native language; she makes sure they understand the staff is there to give them the utmost care. While waiting for new visitors during my most recent trip, she leaned back, munched on a handful of popcorn and listened intently as one of the ER patients shared a story with her. And when I left, I watched her run to help get a gunshot victim a wheelchair and make sure his injured leg wasn’t causing him too much pain.
    And with me, the treatment was no different. During both of my visits I felt like a person, not a number, and this helped the long wait seem shorter. In between taking vitals and making sure I was comfortable, she would chat about whatever came to mind. And like everyone else that night, I smiled … and the pain went away … if only for a moment.
    In today’s busy and crazy world, it’s easy to forget about your fellow man. It’s easy to just do your job so you can get on with your personal life and issues. It’s also just as easy to remember that you may one day be on the other side of the blood pressure cuff or the customer service counter or the telephone line and should treat others exactly how you would want to be treated.
    When you’re feeling at your worst, it’s nice to have someone like Cynthia making sure you know that you are important and that everything is going to be okay.
    And it didn’t cost her a dime.

Michelle Fitzhugh-Craig is an award-winning, professional journalist who resides in Oakland. If you have an individual, organization, issue or other topic that may be of interest to the Globe’s readers, contact her at  talk2mfc@yahoo.com.