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Last Thursday as television networks declared Doug Ford premier for a second term, I was getting a long close-up look at how well he delivered on one of his key promises from the 2018 election: eliminating “hallway medicine.”

I spent 12-plus hours in the emergency area at Oakville Trafalgar Memorial Hospital waiting to see a doctor. From what I saw, it’s not a stretch to say that Ford didn’t get it done.

It would be hard to see much of a difference between now and 2018: the relentless pressure on nurses and physicians; the tedious wait for patients; the black hole of information.

All are hallmarks of hallway medicine.

It starts at the front door. Incoming patients are shuffled into a line to be triaged. No one gets preferential treatment — not the elderly woman in a wheelchair, the little girl about six or the man and his adult son who is gasping for air.

All of us wait quietly and patiently before being sent to the next stage — Zone A-B. Getting there takes you down another hall, one lined with a dozen or more people on stretchers waiting. And waiting.

First responders lean against a wall, waiting to see their patient through the process. One quips that he should take a photo and send it to Ford. No one laughs, but the irony is hard to miss.

There are even more people on stretchers in Zone A-B, lined up in front of the nursing station that seems to be Ground Zero. Nurses, doctors, and support staff move in and out, answer patients’ questions, and direct traffic.

Every now and then, a nurse pushes into the overflowing waiting area to take someone’s temperature or blood pressure or just check a person’s well-being.

About 30 or so people are slumped in chairs, thumbing screens, snoring, staring blankly at a wall or a silent TV monitor, wishing they were anywhere but here.

There are hours to go, and some give up. “Please notify a nurse … if you decide to leave,” says a paper sign taped to the station window.

Leaving a hospital and medical care in frustration says a lot about what ails Ontario’s health care and hospital system.

That criticism is echoed by the people who offer care. I spoke informally to doctors, nurses and support staff. All said the same thing: the crushing pressure of the pandemic on health care workers has never abated, never relented.

To handle the pandemic onslaught, Oakville Trafalgar created a “field hospital” on the top floor with makeshift rooms among cement pillars, wiring, pipes, and HVAC. The pandemic’s grip has loosened but the field hospital is still used to handle the constant overflow of patients.

One young nurse told me that nights where people have to wait 12 or 14 hours to see a doctor are the new normal. They thought the crush of the pandemic would end. It hasn’t.

The pandemic exposed just how fragile Ontario’s health-care system and hospitals can be. If Oakville Trafalgar — one of the newest and well-equipped hospitals in the province — is still under pressure then other older hospitals are feeling squeezed even more.

Unions and health care professionals have already raised the alarm about the potential crisis in hospitals.

At the end of our conversation, the young woman said she has been nursing for three years. She sighed, said she’s already thinking of a career change, and then went on to the next frustrated and weary patient.

She has a job, and she has to get it done.

So too, does the premier.

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