I woke up to the sound of that same old intercom, "Dr. Evans, please report to the main floor, Dr. Lucy Evans, please report." I left my desk that was covered with papers on generic drugs, and articles about a new drug resistant bacteria. I must have pulled another "all-nighter", I thought to myself. I walked down the long white hallway leading to the Free Clinic's lobby, the "main floor" is what we all called it. The lobby was our own make-shift Emergency Room.
We were almost always busy with someone injured or sick. We had no choice, the city hospital would many times ignore people's calls from just about everyone in the Washington Heights district. Not too many people here can afford health insurance, so the free clinic is almost always the next best alternative.
As I was walking I could see in the short distance a man on the floor all bloodied and beaten. "Who did this to you?" I asked.
The man mustered up what strength he had left and replied, "I was at the bar minding my own business , talking with some people, when this drunk guy came from behind me and hit me in the back of my head."
Violence isn't uncommon in the district, helping the poor guys like hem was a typical day. We did what we could to take care of the wound and the pain, then it was all up to the police to make a report....
"Maybe this time they'll catch someone" one of the nurses scoffed.
"I sure hope so. I'm tired of these random acts of violence."
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