Who can you call from the hospital at midnight?

Finding the elusive emergency contact

I have a problem. Maybe you have the same problem. Because I have no family nearby, I don’t have a built-in emergency contact. 

In the years since I lost my husband, I have counted on various friends, but I keep losing them. Two have moved away to be closer to their kids. One has taken the kind of full-time job she can’t leave. Another just found out she has cancer. The hospital lists my brother at the top of the list, and he would certainly help by phone, but it might take him two days to get here. Who can I—or the hospital—call to come now? 

In 2022, I stepped on a rotten board on my deck and fell through. I was lucky I only broke a rib, but I ended up riding an ambulance to the ER. By the time they were ready to send me home, it was midnight. I had thought I would call a taxi. We have no Ubers in this small town. Forget taxis at this time of night, the nurse said, handing me my phone. Better find a friend to call. 

I called a friend from church. God bless her, she got out of bed and drove 15 miles to rescue me. I felt pitiful, like the only person in the world who showed up at the ER all by herself.

I wanted to be independent. Just get me a taxi. But there weren’t any. And there was certainly no one at home to dole out pain pills and keep me fed while I recuperated. I healed. I dealt with it. As long as I didn’t sneeze or move too quickly, I was all right. We can do a lot more on our own than we think. 

But not always. Here’s another scenario.

A friend from church, a childless widowed woman I have known and loved for many years, wasn’t answering her phone. Numerous people called. Several pounded on her door. No answer. We knew she was in frequent contact with her niece and her stepdaughters, but none of us knew their names or how to contact them. 

People called me because they thought I would know. I know her phone numbers by heart, but I didn’t know the names of family members or why she wasn’t answering her phone. I called a mutual friend who might know more. She didn't. She called people who sometimes drove the missing friend to doctor’s appointments. They had a key to her house. We waited. We prayed. I was so scared my friend was dead. 

She was fine. She slept in, did not want to be disturbed and probably couldn’t hear people knocking downstairs while she was upstairs with the TV blasting. She has a right to be left alone. We all do. But it frightened us. 

She was 81, living alone in a three-story house, dealing with decreasing vision and healing from recent knee surgery. One friend sat her down and demanded all the contact information.

I told our priest we have to do something. Too many of us live alone. If we don’t show up, who will check on us? If there’s a problem, how will anyone know who to call?

The result: This weekend at church, we were given cards to fill out with our addresses, phone numbers and two emergency contacts. I stared at that card for a long time. I got a little weepy. I did not know whose name to write down. I settled on my brother and my neighbors, who at least have a key and can walk across the street to check on me. They always tell me to call if I need anything. Well, I need this. 

When you’re alone, you don’t have a built-in emergency contact. Most people have their parents when they’re young, spouses or siblings in mid-life, and children or grandchildren later on, but those of us who live alone may struggle to find someone.

That night I called the ambulance, I dragged myself around the house locking doors and filling a bag with things I might need. I was scared silly and could barely stand, but I did it.

Another night maybe three years ago, I was having such bad chest pain I feared I was having a heart attack. I drove myself to the hospital, where they slapped me into bed with an EKG attached so fast it made me dizzy. Chest X-ray. Lab tests. My heart was fine. My digestion not so much. My pain eased by a “GI Cocktail,” I drove myself home at dawn. Driving myself to the hospital was stupid, and I’m not doing it again. What if I had fainted on the way?

Many of us worry about the high cost of ambulance trips. Check to see if you can buy ambulance insurance. I pay a small fee for coverage from our local ambulance company, so I ride free. Even if it costs a fortune, if you need it, call 911 and deal with the cost later. The medical treatment starts immediately, and you aren’t risking your life and the lives of others driving in less-than-ideal condition. 

This is a cheery topic, right? But it’s important. People don’t think about it until something happens. Figure it out today. Who will you call in a pinch? Is there someone who will agree to do this for you if you do it for them?  

Who should others call if you have an emergency? Write down the names and numbers and share the information with people who care. Put a copy on your refrigerator for first responders, along with your allergies and special medical conditions. You can also load the information into your SmartPhone.

It’s also vital to know who will make medical decisions for you if you can’t do it for yourself. Have you got a healthcare proxy? My brother is mine. He lives far away, and we don’t agree about everything, but we love each other, and he is my person. I’m sure his wife is his. It can be anyone you trust, but you need to get it in writing and make their contact information easily accessible.

Figuring this out can be depressing and overwhelming. It can make you feel even more alone. But not as alone as you will feel if you don’t do it.

Start with the basic question. Who can you call at midnight if things go catawampus? 

Do you have an emergency contact? Family or friend? Are you someone else’s person to call? Have you been faced with the question and not had a ready answer? Let’s discuss it in the comments.

Helpful reading:

Here’s how: How to Set an Emergency Contact on iPhone (and Why) (howtogeek.com)

Emergency Contact List: Who to Include (and Why) - GoodRx

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How did I end up alone? I didn’t have any kids. After my husband and I retired to the Oregon coast, far from family, he died of Alzheimer’s. You can read our story in my forthcoming memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, coming out in June. Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.