As I pushed the stretcher, the patient looked up at me, and with a slightly accusatory, slightly pleading voice, stated: "I have really good insurance, you know."
I'm not sure of his intent. Did he think that was the secret password that would lead me to suddenly unlock the plush, VIP waiting area of the ER? That it granted him special access to some sort of executive elevator for bringing patients upstairs? That his insurance meant we'd do the EKG on the incoming women out in the hallway, or better yet, just send her somewhere else?
I explained to him that we treat everyone the same, regardless of insurance. He rolled his eyes.