From ER Nightmare to Northwell Nirvana: A Cautionary Tale of Pain, Patience, and Knowing Your Rights
Whew. Y’all. Let me tell you about how I tried to mind my business and ended up starring in the medical drama from hell. First, picture this: me, in agony, writhing in pain so bad it had me speaking in tongues, deciding—against my better judgment—to roll on over to my local city hospital. Why? Because my sibling once went there and got five-star treatment. And because I, too, had once been admitted there and was treated like medical royalty. But, baby…lightning did not strike twice.
Triage or TikTok? You Decide.
I pull up, barely breathing through the pain, expecting efficiency. Instead, the registration desk was EMPTY. Like Beyoncé tickets after a presale—GONE. When someone finally showed up, he was so busy scrolling TikTok on his phone that I half expected him to say, “Like and subscribe!” before printing my wristband. I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Eventually, I got triaged by someone who actually seemed to care—shoutout to you, anonymous triage hero—but from there, the night went downhill faster than my patience.
The Back Room from Hell
They shuffled me to the back and plopped me on a bed with no sheet to cover with, no blanket, and zero dignity. Honey, I’m a woman of size. A lady of curves. A full-figured goddess. But you’d think I was invisible the way they treated me.
• No gown offered.
• No slip-proof socks.
• A bed rail so high I had to slide out the front to get my Crocs. And because I didn’t have slip-proof socks, I could’ve broken my neck and been there for a extra emergency.
I asked for a gown. They tossed me one I had to snap together myself. When I asked for a second gown to protect the rear-view? Ignored. As in, crickets.
“It’s Just Tylenol”
Pain screaming through my body, what did they give me? Tylenol. TYLENOL, Y’ALL. At 6:30 PM, I got Tylenol. That was it until I left around 9:30 PM. Meanwhile, I kept asking the same question: “What’s the plan for my care tonight?” Silence. Ambiguity. Shrugs. One doctor told me I was next. Then she told me there were four people ahead of me. Meanwhile, I’m staring at nurses playing with their eyeballs. Literally. Playing with. Their. Eyeballs. All while the lady in the next bed was getting her care handled like a VIP at the Ritz. Why? Because her care team was on it!
“Don’t Be One of Those…”
Now, before you hit me with, “That’s why I don’t go where people don’t look like me”—STOP. Because let me be crystal clear: the entire team that treated me like an afterthought? They looked just like me. Wink, wink. So, let’s not even go there.
The Great Escape
By then, I’d had enough. I asked to sign out AMA (Against Medical Advice). Suddenly, everyone’s interested:
• “Wait! Here’s medication!”
• “What do you need?”
• “We’re ready to help!”
OH, NOW YOU’RE READY? No ma’am. I was leaving. Then I asked for my labs. DENIED. I asked for a different doctor. DENIED. I asked for a different Nurse. DENIED. I informed the doctor that she was violating my rights by insisting she treat me because:
✅ I have the right to my medical records.
✅ I have the right to choose my provider.
The doctor slammed papers, stomped off into the sunset, and was never seen again. Nobody came back to remove my IV. Not a soul. I was still tethered like a Christmas ornament to the IV pole. So I left. IV still in. Bandage leaking. Pain through the roof. And THEN…a squad rolls up on me like I’m Beyoncé trying to leave the stage too early. Hospital police barricaded me. Nurses chased me. Only outside the hospital, IN THE STREET, did a different nurse finally remove my IV.
Northwell Health, My Actual Heroes ✨
Shaking, exhausted, and running on pure adrenaline, I drove to Northwell Health, LIJ on Lakeville Road. Baby, it was like stepping into a luxury spa compared to what I’d just survived.
• Polite intake staff.
• Immediate triage.
• Private room in nine minutes.
• A bed with an actual SHEET to cover with.
• A gown offered without me begging for one.
And my nurse? Sis saw my gown situation and immediately said: “Your back is open—let me grab you another gown to cover you up.” I damn near cried on the spot. And pain meds, Tramadol via IV that brought the relief I had been begging for. Every single medical professional:
✅ Introduced themselves.
✅ Explained what they were doing.
✅ Told me if it would hurt.
✅ Gave me options and a clear care plan.
THAT’S how you care for a patient in crisis. By the time I left, I had the meds I needed, a care plan, and my faith in the medical system partially restored. Not to mention they called me the next day asking how I was feeling and explained the additional lab results that came in after I had left.
Let’s Talk Receipts: The Data 📊
I’m not the only one who’s suffered this nonsense. Consider this:
• 1 in 5 adults (20%) in the U.S. has left an ER visit feeling their pain was dismissed or undertreated.
• Nearly 7% of patients leave the ER before being seen due to wait times or frustration.
• Roughly 13% of ER visits result in patients feeling their questions were never answered.
And here’s the kicker:
• Over 1.4 million people per year leave one ER only to land in another hospital’s ER within 30 days.
• 25% of those patients end up needing significantly higher levels of care because their conditions worsened.
• About 8% of patients who leave the ER against medical advice require readmission within seven days.
This isn’t just an inconvenience. This is dangerous. And traumatizing.
Know Your Rights. Demand Your Care.
If you take nothing else from my chaos:
🗣️ Know your rights.
• You have the right to your medical records.
• You have the right to request another provider.
• You have the right to refuse treatment.
• You have the right to respectful, timely, competent care.
Thank You, Northwell Health 🙏🏾
To the angels at Northwell Health, LIJ on Lakeville Road: THANK YOU. For treating me like a human. For restoring my dignity. For getting me out of crisis and into comfort. I will never forget you.
Now It’s Your Turn
Ever had an ER horror story? Or a hospital experience that restored your faith in humanity? 👀 Spill the tea. Drop your stories in the comments, because the more we share, the more we empower each other to demand better care. And remember: ➡️ Don’t be afraid to walk out—especially if you’ve got your Crocs on and a second hospital fifteen minutes away.
