ER vs Hobby Lobby

Why I like to take walks in retail stores

Photo by Buse Doga Ay on Unsplash

When I was a child, my mother was a dedicated and fearless denizen of old-school department stores. I have vague, but strong, memories of the assorted retail businesses she would frequent, with me in tow. I grew up in Huntinton, WV, so perhaps our most commonly visited destinations were what was then Anderson-Newcomb (later Stone and Thomas), as well as the appropriately (but not creatively) named, ‘Huntington Store.’

In my mind I can still see the layout of some of the areas. I can visualize the shoe section, the jewelry and perfume counters, the photography studio where she made me pose for photos in the days before we had thousands of images on our phones. Sometimes there were toy sections, which were especially wonderful at Christmas. Andersons also had a Boy Scout section. Although I was never a Boy Scout, I loved the chance to look at things boyish, like pocket knives, as I was led for hours through dresses, hats and dishes.

Maybe all of this is why I still find some solace in retail stores. They bring back pleasant memories of childhood and days with my doting mother in her youthful elegance.

But I think there’s another reason. And that is that such places stand in stark contrast to my daily life in medicine. I was talking about this at work, as the air was swirling with the frantic energy of the ER. I’m not sure how the topic came up, but I turned to friend and co-worker Nick, an excellent and hilarious PA in our department.

‘You know why I like Hobby Lobby? Because you just don’t usually find meth-heads there. I mean, they don’t really seem to have hobbies, right?’

Nick wisely added, ‘well, they have one.’ Well said.

Maybe it crossed my mind because it has been so dang busy lately. In the past, genuine ER week I’ve done things like intubate, put in a chest tube and cardiovert (shock) a dangerous heart rhythm. I’ve argued with other doctors, I’ve called all over creation to transfer sick people, tried to redirect disruptive patients, sedated the injured, reduced fractures, diagnosed cancer and tried to reason with addicts.

I’ve glared at my computer screen more than I wanted and I’ve written a dozen columns in my head about the dissolution of modern healthcare, all while ambulances kept rolling in and people kept getting sicker. Simultaneously pumping down caffeine and devouring the last refugees of Halloween candy which will be gone in a day, since all the staff eat it out of stress.

When I have time off I sometimes take Jan and go to stores just because it’s, well the ‘anti-ER.’ There’s usually soft music playing. Things are neatly arranged on shelves. People speak quietly. People are there because they want to be there. To me, Hobby Lobby is the perfect example of this.

Mind you, I’m not a craft person. I respect it but I don’t really do it. But there’s something about the colors, shapes and textures of the things in the store. It is a place where people, regular people, try to express their creativity and make their homes and lives a little more beautiful; even if it’s only in small ways.

I walk down the toy aisles of Hobby Lobby and my mind returns to my childhood. I think sometimes I’d like to own a toy store someday. Play is far under-rated.

Hobby Lobby even smells hopeful and clean, admittedly maybe just a little too ‘candle-ish.’ But I can’t help liking it.

What you don’t see there, other than the aforementioned meth addict, is chaos. Nobody screams, ‘find me that periwinkle satin fabric or I’ll sue, you b…ch!’ No one runs in the door screaming ‘my girlfriend needs a calligraphy pen, please do something! And hurry!’

There isn’t (as far as I’ve seen) blood on the floor, or a pile of clothes cut off of a customer and piled in the corner. I’ve never been cursed. I’ve never seen any bad news given in Hobby Lobby. ‘Ma’am, I don’t know how to tell you this, and you might need to sit down, but we’re all out of glitter. I’m so sorry…’

I don’t know if I could actually work in such a place. In a week I’d probably be longing for someone to overdose on something other than cinnamon scented candles, or injure themselves in some more dramatic way than a box cutter laceration or back strain. I suppose it’s how I’m wired now. But I have to say that now and then, I do love my little forays into the calm, the wonderful, almost mind-numbing calm of retail America in general and Hobby Lobby in particular.

(Disclaimer: Walmart doesn’t count. While I shop there sometimes, it’s almost exactly as wild as the ER, serves merely as a stage-coach stop on the way to or from the local ER, and is populated by almost exactly the same people whom I have learned to astutely identify and run from. In order to avoid, ‘hey doc, I remember you! Wanna see my scar?’ Also, you’ll absolutely see meth-heads in Walmart. With all due respect, of course.)

It’s back to work tomorrow. Back to sickness and injury. Back to watching as people kill themselves with poor decisions and addiction. Watching as the unsuspecting find themselves suddenly and critically ill. Tomorrow I’ll see physicians, nurses, medics, techs, respiratory therapists and others doing all they can to save life and limb, and many wondering quietly how much longer they can take it.

But when I’m off again, I may just end up back in a mall, or in Hobby Lobby. Just to remind myself that the experiences we see every day are not the norm, but the harsh and frightening exception to what goes on day in and day out in most of the world.

It’s a nice reminder.