I HAD been to the Wimmera Base Hospital emergency department only once before Friday night. My first visit came during primary school after my sister hit me in the head with a minkey stick and I needed stitches above my eye. Friday night offered a very different experience.

I was not a patient, a concerned relative or a member of staff, but an observer with the rare opportunity to plunge into the inner workings of the hospital. Accompanied by Wimmera Health Care Group community liaison officer Amelia Elliston, I took a position behind the glass of the doctors' and nurses' station at 7.30pm and watched for five hours as patients filed through the striped glass door from the waiting room.

When a patient presents to the emergency department, they are assessed by a nurse and placed into one of five categories.

A category one patient must be seen immediately, a category two within 10 minutes, category three within 30 minutes, category four within one hour and category five within two hours.

During my time we were thankful to have no category one patients.

Once the nurses have noted details the patients are taken to a treatment room to be seen by one of the two doctors on the night shift.

The doctors manage the entire hospital overnight, which means they can get called away from the emergency department to the wards.

When I arrived two patients were in the treatment rooms. It wasn't long before the sharp ring of the phone pierced the air and more patients made their way in.

The presentations to the emergency department were varied - an overdose, stomach pain, a dislocated shoulder, each requiring a different approach and level of care.

The staff use a situational awareness screen - much like those in fast food restaurants which show how quickly a customer must be served.

The screen gives details on each patient, their category and what they presented with.

It updates every few seconds with the time left in which a patient must be seen depending on their category, and the time left for them to leave the hospital.

The screen was about one third full for most of the night and after staring at it for a good while I finally worked out how to interpret the information.

For the hospital staff, a glance was all it took.

I watched as nurses moved between the treatment areas and the office, tending to patients, filling in long lists of details on their computers, answering phones and conversing with each other and the doctors about the best approaches to take.

They moved like a well-oiled engine, each knowing their place and role.

During the shift ambulance staff made their way through the doors and briefed the hospital staff on the latest patient to be brought in.

I stood at the back of the office and watched the staff work, amazed at their ability to reel off the names of body parts and drugs like ice-cream flavours and interpret x-rays that to me showed nothing but black and white.

Family and friends moved in and out of the department during the night, the relief of having their loved one treated and on their way home giving way to a smile, while others showed strain at the uncertainty at what the night would bring.

The staff mentioned many times how quiet the night was in comparison with the many that had come before. Two weeks prior on December 30, 49 patients passed through the department.

But a quiet night in the emergency department means a good night for the staff and our community, and despite the comparatively small number of patients, I was still able to gain an understanding of how the department functions, the pressures on our doctors and nurses and just how hard they work.

The time passed quickly for me and, I would imagine, much more quickly for the staff.

By 12.15am the area had quietened further and I prepared my things for home.

But as 12.30am drew closer, three calls came in. If ever there was a way to articulate the changing nature of the emergency department, this was it.

The staff moved into action once again and prepared for a new group of patients to arrive.

Even though their jobs test their mettle and present them with some confronting and harrowing situations, there is a clear sense that these people love what they do.

In a place where life and limb can literally be lost, the staff were pleasant and upbeat, something I didn't expect from people who have intense pressure on their shoulders.

Faced with the same situations I would crumble like a Salada.

The courage it takes to sit face to face with an overdose patient who earlier fought a security guard and is slowly losing self control takes the type of guts I wish I had.

While I held respect for our emergency service workers before, I found a new level of appreciation on Friday night.

The nature of patients and conditions they deal with on a daily basis is varied, and the courage and poise needed to do their roles is something most of us would probably not be able to summon.

To everyone at the hospital that night - you have my sincere thanks and my admiration.

The Mail-Times and I are grateful to Wimmera Health Care Group and hospital staff for allowing us the opportunity to spend time in their emergency department and gain an insight into their lives.

* To read more about a night in the ED, see today's Wimmera Mail-Times.