A Story from the Health Clinic

In order to understand first-hand the experience of clients using our services, I shed my insurance card and entered into the world of the First Presbyterian Church Health Clinic. I was incredibly nervous to go into the facility. I was sure everyone would be able to smell my lie and would promptly kick me out on my lucky behind! I could imagine every wonderful, selfless volunteer turning to scowl at the girl with access who lied to gain access to a clinic provided for those whose health care options are otherwise limited or obsolete.

I will candidly admit that I was surprised upon entering “First Pres” that I was not surrounded by the type of clientele that one might expect at a free clinic — there were no homeless men who smelled of musty booze, or tattooed couples towing six or seven dirty blond, fighting children behind them. In my old soccer t-shirt, jeans, and athletic sandals, I was probably sporting the roughest wardrobe in the large church basement. I felt slightly out of place amidst the mother and daughter sitting across from me in the waiting area, both wearing lovely floral print dresses and sharing magazines with me, and the young blond wearing the pink blouse and spiffy tan pants, who looked as though he had come right from work.

After waiting in no line for registration, I sat for two minutes until my name was called, and I was asked a series of questions by a friendly volunteer to make sure I was eligible (which, with my series of half-truths, I was). It was in these two minutes — sharing smiles with my fellow clients — that it hit me: no one was grumpy. We were waiting to see a doctor, and no one was gruff, rolling their eyes, sighing, or really involved in any unpleasant physical activities at all. This was a new experience for me. When I go to my provider, everyone is angry. Everyone has been waiting at least forty minutes for their appointments because they came in ten minutes early, as requested, to update all of their information are miserably sitting for what seems to be the mandatory thirty-minute waiting period to see a health care provider. After I overcame the shock of a kind, caring, happy health setting, I was able to notice also that I was never asked for identification, if I was or could be included in parents’ insurance, or for anything might verify my employment, or proof of income. I was really surprised by the trust placed in my word. I believe it is rare, especially for someone used to working within a system in which you are asked who your insurance provider is and for proof of coverage before anyone even asks what is wrong.

Everything feels lighter at the clinic. People really took the time to talk to me and ask questions and continued to ask if I had any questions, even through routing. The volunteers are personable and friendly. Cindy, my nurse, was incredibly kind. I told her I was quitting smoking, and she was so happy that I thought she was going to plan a party! She took the time to talk and connect with me, and it made so much difference I have never felt so cared for in a clinical setting. I felt like my whole self — mind, body, and soul — were a concern for each and every volunteer, not just the wicked cough — although that was taken care of, too, by a great volunteer doctor who prescribed an inhaler that didn’t cost me a dime. Complete care at no cost to those in need in a time of trouble … I think I’ve read that somewhere before…