A waiting room full of agitated patients, a frontline crew clearly pushed to their limits, a concierge trying to keep the piece, and a small, yet willing crew of medicos behind the lines trying to juggle cases and make sound medico decisions under the ultimate pressure.

Welcome to Blacktown Hospital Emergency on Friday, May 13.

I arrive at the unit in western Sydney at around 4.20pm under the instruction of my GP. A recurring bout of oral antibiotic-resistant cellulitis has me a likely candidate for sepsis without intravenous intervention.

My temperature is normal and I'm not ill, other than for a tomato-coloured lower left leg. In a triage sense, that makes me a lesser concern ... totally understandable ... to a point.

I quickly realise, from overhearing the conversations of those in the waiting docks, that my stay is likely to be protracted.

Being a people watcher, emergency departments are abundant with interesting stories waiting to be read.

On this occasion though there seemed to be only two sections to the library; the calm - aside from their ailment - new arrivals, and the clearly over-it veterans of the room, some muttering hospital-directed obscenities under their breath, and others bent on stressing the importance of their immediate need for treatment at regular intervals to the ladies in admission, the overwhelmed concierge and the overworked triage nurses.

It is clear the said staff are tired and over it. You can tell it has been an incredibly long shift and the situation is well beyond their control ... and probably paycheck.

As far as the much-lauded frontline workers are concerned ... these people deserve the utmost respect. They are doing the best under extremely trying circumstances.

When it is my turn to be triaged - within about 20 minutes of arrival - I actually commend the nurse for not telling folk to ... you know, go and get ...! She smiles and I can tell she'd dearly love to speak her mind.

This was of course early in my stay ... when rationality was still very much functional.

Anyway, after finding I have been assigned to the doctors in Team C and I'll have another two hours wait time ahead of me, I go back to observing.

At this point I'll save readers the burden of my next six hours and fast forward to around 10.30pm ... still with the cattle, still without seeing a doc.

The concierge left a couple of hours ago, leaving the admissions staff and triage nurses to field all of the complaints.

I notice folk who had been called to the back stage treatment area returning with cannulas in place and a couple, complete with drips.

It seems, not only is the system running on empty, but there are no more beds to accommodate cases.

What now? Well, what else, shut up and try and maintain your cool, which I might add is starting to get a little more difficult.

I must say, it is not eased as I witness patients who have received treatment and a place on a bed, walk by in their medical gowns, on the way out the front door for a cigarette! Of course, usually, this wouldn't concern me greatly, but right now, it's an afront.

After witnessing several instances of utter rudeness (borderline verbal abuse) towards staff, I feel the need to apologise to the doctor when I am finally called just after 1am ... that's right more than eight hours after my arrival.

Before I can utter a word, my doctor apologises to me and thanks me for waiting. She, like all I have had contact with from the hospital, is grace under pressure.

As with those I had seen requiring treatment - or admission - I am fitted with my cannula and sent back to await my antibiotic.

It is another two-and-a-half hours before I am called to triage for the administration of the drug. This would normally take place in the actual ward.

I once again return to my seat in the ED waiting room to watch the sun slowly rise and await further instruction.

At this point, I am over the whole thing. Every sound around me is an annoyance. I have no time for anyone else and I just want to escape. I actually contemplate signing myself out.

I fight the urge and by about 8am I am called to triage to be told I will require five days of intravenous antibiotics, but due to the situation with beds I will likely be added to the "Hospital in the Home" program, where a nurse comes out to my house daily to administer the medicine.

It is far from the ideal scenario. Then again, pitted with the idea of returning to the waiting room it is blessed relief.

Within the hour I am sent on my way, with drugs in hand and an experience I am not keen to relive.

Near instantly, I think about those initial staff I was greeted by the day prior. They'll be back to do it all again today ... and the day after ... and the day after that!

This isn't good enough.

No employee should have to work under such conditions.

There is a near perfect storm at the moment for a major catastrophe.

The patients can't really be blamed for their declining rationality ... I suggest the vast majority don't present to an ED for fun. And obviously, the longer they wait unattended and "in pain" the more liable to irrationality and lashing out they will become.

And the staff ... my God, where do I start. You people really are worth your weight in gold. Your dedication to task in the face of a seemingly broken system is incredible.

Ironically, about five hours after returning home I received a text message from the local area health service asking me about my experiences at the Blacktown ED.

I won't be filling it out for fear they'll adopt a usual employer trick and make the workers pay for issues that are clearly the responsibility of those on higher pay packets.

Instead, I will focus my feedback towards NSW Health Minister Brad Hazzard and Premier Dominic Perrottet.

To each I say: "Pull your heads out of your proverbials and fix this broken system! Stop telling your frontline workers they are valued unless you actually mean it ... quite clearly this is nonsense when you are forcing them into a lion's den every day and offering them a bag of peanuts as a reward. You can think yourselves lucky it is not a State election coming up on Saturday as you clearly are failing your people."

In case you are interested in filtering all the latest down to just one late afternoon read, why not sign up for The Informer newsletter?