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Chapter 12
Free Clinic
“What are you doing here?”
The last person I expected to see at the free clinic was Hector.
“I thought I’d volunteer a shift,” he said. “Check it out.”
“Right.”
“I didn’t realize the med students run it in conjunction with the hospital.”
Hector sat at one of the desks in the shared office. The room was packed with students getting ready for the huddle at the start of the shift. We had an hour before we opened the clinic, and already the waiting room was packed.
I was the lead resident for today, so I called the huddle.
“We have six volunteers tonight, so let’s work fast. For those of you who are here for the first time, you will call patients from the waiting room and take them to the conference room—no more than three in the conference room at a time. Refer any emergent patients to the emergency room and triage the rest into the clinic. Our maximum capacity tonight is thirty. Stop triaging once that quota is met and refer them to the emergency room, if necessary.”
“So, what do I do?” Hector asked once the medical students had dispersed.
“Oh, Dr. Medina. Sorry. I forgot you were here.”
“Thanks,” he said dryly, looking hurt, but the corner of his mouth quirked up a bit.
“Sorry. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t really have time to get you up to speed. There’s really not much to do.” I clasped my hands together. “We have an assistant updating the board with patients and their room numbers. You and I are basically here to be a prescription pad if the med students need it, and if they have any questions.”
“That’s it?”
“Mostly. The students will start trickling in here soon. They will each give us a run-down of patient symptoms and their proposed treatment plan. We will have to approve or adjust the treatment and write any prescriptions necessary.”
“I don’t see the patient?”
“You don’t have to unless you want to or would like to ask the patient more questions.”
“Got it.”
Hector fell into a quick rhythm. It didn’t escape my notice that it was the female students who gravitated most toward his counsel instead of mine. They flirted, but he didn’t flirt back. He remained professional and respectful the entire time.
Halfway through the shift, Hector and I were talking when one of the newer volunteers approached us.
“Excuse me,” she said shyly. I turned to her.
“Yes?”
“I have a twenty-nine-year-old female patient. No complaints, but she needs a prescription for birth control.”
“What? She came to the free clinic for birth control? Who triaged her into the clinic?”
The med student flushed red. “I did,” she said.
“Okay, you are new, right? Routine preventive and ongoing care needs to be referred to a primary care—”
“I know,” she said, interrupting me. “But please, let me explain.”
“Go on,” I said.
“She doesn’t have a primary care physician, and I know the protocol is to refer her to one, but I think this is a special circumstance. The patient is a mother of five and struggling. She is Catholic, and she doesn’t want her husband to find out she’s taking birth control. She’s been saving for a long time to pay out of pocket for an appointment so that it wouldn’t show up as a claim on the insurance she shares with her husband.”
