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*sniffle* I’ll take all the sympathy I can possibly get, thanks!
I have to say– damn slowly– that I loved being in that hospital. There is no waiting room; triage happens in the middle of gurneys holding bleeding people, women in labor, whimpering children and their parents. Doctors, aids, assistants, techs– and two cheerful and patient young women who take the most basic information quickly, but completely focussed on the client.
If you’re ambulatory, they show you the blue tape on the floor that leads you to something more like triage, and you hoof it; otherwise, you are assigned a gurney for life

Queen Of Angeles is a gorgeous old pile. From the outside it is pure Art Deco, untouched by modernity, thank goodness. Inside (at least in the ER wing), the twenty-foot-wide hallways have been turned into a ten-foot row of cots separating two five-foot walkways. The Travertine still runs half-way up the walls, but the high ceilings are mostly dropped and acoustic-tiled. One toilet I used was a water closet, nearly untouched by time.

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