ER Experience

I went to the ER this afternoon.  I injured my finger almost 4 weeks ago and it's still swollen.  It hurts too!  I didn't really think that it was broken but I figured that  was best to have it checked out, just in case.  I called a family practice that had several doctors.  The receptionist told me that they were taking new patients, however, they didn't have anything available for the rest of this month or next.  That doesn't make sense to me. 
 
I really dislike going to the hospital.  A friend dropped me off because I had taken my car to the mechanic.  This hospital has something they call the "Express Center" that is part of the ER.  It still took me two hours from the time I registered until I could walk out.  I'm glad that it didn't take any longer.  It's amazing how many people you have to talk to before you leave.  I counted at least seven people that I gave information to.  Most of them asked how I injured my finger.  Even though I was sure that they have heard some ridiculous stories from people who come in with injures, I felt like mine was particularly silly.  Each time I told the story of my injure I tried to add something that would make it sound more normal.  It always came out a little strange, "I hurt my finger.  See, it's swollen."  "How did you do it?"  "Um...I was standing next to a teenager and she was going to kick my butt with her foot.  So, I put my hand down to stop her and she kicked my hand...Yeah...I think I just jammed it."  I didn't think it would really matter how I did it.  I just wanted it X-rayed.
 
Each time I was left alone, either in the waiting room or the exam room, I wanted to just walk out.  It made me wish that I kept a book in my purse at all times.  They shouldn't put clocks in those rooms and they should take your watch from you when you register at the front desk.  I amused myself by looking away from the clock and trying to guess when 30 seconds had passed.  I discovered that 30 seconds is a lot longer that I thought.  This is an indication that I was very bored. 
 
While I was waiting for the doctor to come tell me the results of the X-rays, I found myself hoping that I had broken it.  When the doctor looked at my finger at the beginning he mentioned that I really could have fractured it.  The possibilities were there.  Just as I had that thought he stepped into the room and mentioned causally, "Well, the X-rays looked good."  He then proceeded to illustrate, using his own fingers, that the cartilage and ligaments must be bruised.  As soon as he explained this, he disappeared out the door as quick as he had appeared.  
 
The diagnosis is a sprained finger.  That's it!  Not much I can do about it.  A little flexing exercise and an anti-inflammatory may help it heal faster.  Two hours of my day spent in a freezing cold ER only to learn that my finger is badly bruised.