As finals week approached last term, I had an experience that all students undoubtedly dread — getting extremely sick just as you need to study the most. A few all-nighters, coupled with professors piling on work before the end of the quarter, had done me in completely. I tried to push myself through with a mind-over-matter mentality. By the Monday of finals week, I was running a temperature of about 102 degrees. Nevertheless, I studied and took a chemistry final that day, quickly taking some Tylenol before entering the exam. Ultimately the push proved too great for me and when my temperature reached almost 104 degrees, I finally gave in and went to Dick’s House for the first time. I had been warned by friends that the treatment I would receive would be far from what I expected. I initially thought their comments were overly pessimistic, but after having experienced Dick’s House firsthand, I can now say that their negative reviews were making mole hills out of mountains.

Perhaps the experience is different during regular hours, but when I stumbled into the Dick’s House “after-hours inpatient floor” at 12:30 a.m. seeking treatment, treatment was about the last thing I received. Instead I received a surly greeting and an order to sit in the hallway and wait, as the nurse explained that they were currently “swamped.” I was puzzled, as there was not another soul in sight, and it appeared that several rooms were empty. As I sat shivering despite my dangerously high temperature, the nurse then proceeded to disappear. After waiting almost an hour to be seen, I had a different nurse come get me, who walked in the door as the other was leaving. I realized that the nurse who had let me in must have viewed half an hour until the end of her shift as not enough time to do more than direct me to a chair in the hall. Instead she simply waited to pass me off to her co-worker.

Undeniably, I was in a foul mood after my wait, but I was treated kindly by the nurse who eventually saw me. What I found disheartening was the fact that under no circumstances would Dick’s House communicate with my dean or professors regarding my illness. The nurse confirmed that my temperature was extremely high, and yet despite my offer to sign a release of medical information to my professors, I was told nothing could be done. Thus the burden fell to me; I still had to worry about contacting both my professors and dean to move exams without any verification of my sickness from Dick’s House. Hypothetically, I ran the risk of spending the night in Dick’s House and possibly still having to take exams in the morning if my professors were unsympathetic or did not believe my claims of sickness. Although my professors not believing I was sick seemed unlikely, given that this all was happening literally hours before two finals, I certainly would not have blamed them if the suspicion slipped into their minds.

With this worry and the stress of being sick, it was once again reiterated to me that under no circumstances would Dick’s House send even the most succinct email to a professor. Despite the fact that I was willing to sign medical information releases, I came up against a brick wall. Although I know that any certified “sick notes” would be highly susceptible to student abuse, the current situation is unacceptable. And if my hour wait is any indication of the norm at Dick’s House after-hours, then I would advise any students considering a trip to Dick’s House to just stay in bed. It certainly will be better than sitting in a hard wooden chair enjoying a chilly draft and utter neglect.

I think it is fair to say that Dartmouth often asks the best of its students. On the flip side of that coin, the students should ask the best of Dartmouth faculty and staff. With a behemoth 2014 operating budget of $981 million, I should think infirm Dartmouth students could enjoy better treatment than is currently provided at Dick’s House.