Hello, hello

It’s been so long since I shared any writing here that I need to say hi before diving into my own stuff. Hello. How are you? What’ve you been up to? Are you taking care of yourself?

Speaking of hello

Last week I took my son to a pre-surgery appointment at the hospital. We hadn’t even reached the main lobby and I was feeling anxious and stressed about the upcoming surgery, and frustrated that I had to take him out of school for a visit that we probably could do over the phone. A cloud of general dread was also hanging around mostly because of lingering emotions hanging around from the six weeks we had spent there last year, triggered by the smell of the parking garage and the sound of the music in the elevator hall. Let’s just say I was not my best self.

And then something happened. Sitting on stool off to the side behind the front desk, a janitor was chatting with the receptionist. As we approached, he looked at my son and greeted him by name. “Hey buddy, how are you doing?” I hesitated for a second and the man looked at me and said, “I remember him from when he was here before.” It was really remarkable.

While it’s really impressive that he remembered us, I thought even more about the fact that he said hello at all, and how that made me feel. Saying hello can seem like a token transaction, but really it’s a way to let others know that we see them. My shoulders loosened. I was reminded of the importance of kindness.

Hälsa means both health and say hello

There is a beautiful word in Swedish — hälsa. As a verb, it means to say hello or to greet. As a noun, it means health. The words are connected etymologically from the word hel, which means whole and even perhaps from helig or holy, sacred. To say hello is to wish someone wholeness and wellness. How wonderful to be reminded that all these words are connected! A simple hi can say much more than we think.

Bringing back hello to healthcare — The 10/5 Rule

I remember reading about hospitals in the US launching campaigns to bring back saying hello in health care environments. Inspired by the service industry, they began adopting the 10/5 Rule, or the Hospitality Principle, to help instruct their staff on how to provide courteous service through greeting. The 10/5 basically recommends that when within 10 feet (3 meters) of a guest or patient, staff should smile and make eye contact; when within 5 feet (1.5 meters), staff should say hello. This also means that staff should stop their conversation with each other in preparation to greet.

What does this mean for health care?

The 10/5 Rule, with its roots in companies like Walmart and Disney, can seem like an American attempt to commodify courtesy or institute robotic friendliness. At the same time, I know that my experience as a caregiver and patient matters. When I’m treated well, I also treat others well, which must be better for staff in the long run.

So much of what we’re doing in hospitals these days when it comes to improvement is really expensive. New buildings, new IT systems, more staff. As a parent and patient, I know what feeling invisible, afraid and alone feel like, and sometimes I think healthcare is missing out when it focuses on the big ticket items and skips over delivering common kindness.

Personally this has gotten me very curious about how I say hello, and what it means to those around me. I’m going to be experimenting with how I can sincerely show the people around me that I see them and care about them. I’ll keep you posted. Until then, bye!

Other resources for “Say hello” campaigns

Implementing the 10/5 Rule in Nursing homes

A video from Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh

Here’s a very enthusiastic training video from ASMMC Medical Center

Reflections from Tufts University professor on the power of saying hello from Psychology Today

Amy Rees Anderson shares background on the evidence of saying hello from Forbes magazine.

Advertisements

Getting off on the wrong foot

Skärmavbild 2017-04-03 kl. 19.29.30.png“Louis, this feels like the beginning of a beautiful friendship” says Humphry Bogart as Rick Blaine in Casablanca. I don’t recall what Louis had said or done to prompt Bogie’s remark, but it certainly wasn’t whatever happened to me today when my son’s new doctor’s office called.

Walking to the bus on my way home from work, my phone rang. Blocked caller ID, which for me means only one thing—health care. I answered despite walking on a dusty, busy highway with a nearly dead cell phone. “Hello, this is the XX office at YY hospital. Your son had an appointment today at 1pm. I’m calling to find out what happened.”

My mind started racing through the pile of mail on the kitchen counter. No, I would have remembered if we had been “summoned,” as I like to call it; in our new country, the overwhelming majority of health care follow-up and specialty appointments are scheduled by health care letter that lands without warning, sometimes with as few as three days notice of the appointment but usually about two weeks. The assumption must be that people are happy to take off work to go to these appointments, because the process of rescheduling them usually involves finding one’s way to a phone during a very limited “phone time” window, nearly always during business hours. Busy signals, call back queues–and most perplexingly, sometimes the only option is to cancel the appointment and then wait for another summons, hoping that the next appointed time spat out by the scheduling roulette is better. If not, see step 1.

But back to the dusty highway. Later searching of the kitchen counter pile confirmed that I had in fact never received notice in the mail, and I confidently said so. “So you’re saying you never got our letter? It was mailed out on March 14,” the nurse said curtly. Clearly, she didn’t believe me. “Well, I guess we’ll have to reschedule it,” she said. “I guess so,” I said, equally incredulously. What exactly was she hoping I would say? “No, let me fly counter-clockwise around the globe and reverse time?” She said she’d send a new time by mail, and I managed to get her to schedule the appointment right then, to avoid having to move heaven and earth at work at a later date. She curtly said she’d still send me the mail, and follow up with a text reminder. “Fine, do whatever you want.” I’m sure she could hear my eyes roll.

I’d hazard a guess that hundreds of thousands of health care visits were missed around the globe today because patients didn’t know they had one, didn’t understand why they needed to be there, or found the rescheduling process impossible. Or maybe because they hadn’t even had a chance to open the mail. Hundreds of thousands of hours of wasted clinic time. Irritation and suspicion all around, at the tender point in the relationship when we should be building trust and confidence. 

Patronizing finger-wagging and mistrust on her end.  Irritated petulance on mine. Is this the best way to start a beautiful friendship? I don’t think so. I wonder what Bogie would say to that.