beans_again?
Orange California UC Irvine Medical Center 2023 13
I've never been a guest of the University of California Irvine Medical Center — in Orange, California. The place is ringed with No Trespassing signs, not exactly welcoming if your loved one is laying on one of the beds inside. Fortunately there was no drama, no trauma, no ventilators, no endotracheal tubes, and no intravenous drips with mysterious contents for my friends and I today. Just some guy with a camera doing what Flickr users do. The place looks new and is probably ready to continue business after the most righteous of earthquakes.
I accosted someone going to work here by asking if this was a Trauma Center. The employee nodded yes. "Level 1 adult?" I continued. "Yes," came the response. This is jargon for a teaching hospital that has at least a few thousand (2,500?) trauma cases per year. Many are addressed by very capable Residents. I'd go here willingly if there were a need.
Ambulances and fire engines from Westminster, Anaheim, and Orange dropped by. There was a Orange County Fire Authority 100-foot tractor-drawn aerial with a three-axle tractor, the driver managed to park in a wide part of the driveway.
That road in the background, going straight for the mountains, is Chapman Avenue, if you're looking for this place on a map. The top of the ridge line is under 6,000 feet (1,829 meters). The mountains are part of the Department of Agriculture's Cleveland National Forest. The patchwork of forest lands continues 85 miles south to maybe 10-15 miles north of the US-Mexico border.
This clumsily hand held photo is brought to you by natural streetlights, the ambient light of Orange County.
Hospitals are a little like a beach. The next wave comes in, and the footprints of your pain and suffering, your delivery and recovery, are obliterated; the sheets are changed.
— Anna Quindlen
Please do not copy this image.
Journalism Grade Image.
Source: 4,100x1,800 16-bit TIF file.
Orange California UC Irvine Medical Center 2023 13
I've never been a guest of the University of California Irvine Medical Center — in Orange, California. The place is ringed with No Trespassing signs, not exactly welcoming if your loved one is laying on one of the beds inside. Fortunately there was no drama, no trauma, no ventilators, no endotracheal tubes, and no intravenous drips with mysterious contents for my friends and I today. Just some guy with a camera doing what Flickr users do. The place looks new and is probably ready to continue business after the most righteous of earthquakes.
I accosted someone going to work here by asking if this was a Trauma Center. The employee nodded yes. "Level 1 adult?" I continued. "Yes," came the response. This is jargon for a teaching hospital that has at least a few thousand (2,500?) trauma cases per year. Many are addressed by very capable Residents. I'd go here willingly if there were a need.
Ambulances and fire engines from Westminster, Anaheim, and Orange dropped by. There was a Orange County Fire Authority 100-foot tractor-drawn aerial with a three-axle tractor, the driver managed to park in a wide part of the driveway.
That road in the background, going straight for the mountains, is Chapman Avenue, if you're looking for this place on a map. The top of the ridge line is under 6,000 feet (1,829 meters). The mountains are part of the Department of Agriculture's Cleveland National Forest. The patchwork of forest lands continues 85 miles south to maybe 10-15 miles north of the US-Mexico border.
This clumsily hand held photo is brought to you by natural streetlights, the ambient light of Orange County.
Hospitals are a little like a beach. The next wave comes in, and the footprints of your pain and suffering, your delivery and recovery, are obliterated; the sheets are changed.
— Anna Quindlen
Please do not copy this image.
Journalism Grade Image.
Source: 4,100x1,800 16-bit TIF file.