9 hours in a Hospital

Two days ago I was delivering my spouse to the Day Surgery section of Abbott Northwestern Hospital (ANW) in Minneapolis.  The objective was a new shoulder, with overnight stay.  (All went fine.  I brought her home yesterday.)

I spent nine hours at the hospital, before 10 a.m. to after 6 p.m. Wednesday, mostly waiting.  You’ve likely been in the same circumstances….

But yesterday was different for me: an opening to learn.

Abbott Northwestern, a prominent hospital in Minneapolis, is less than one mile east of 26th and Nicollet, where Alex Pretti was killed a few days before.  The building where Cathy was admitted borders on 26th….  A casual visitor would have no idea there had been a murder just down the street.

Wednesday was a busy day at the hospital.  As a visitor, I went where I was told.  Everyone I saw was a stranger.

Given what had happened and is happening in the Twin Cities I had a heightened sense of the environment I was in.

The hospital – its representatives – was friendly and welcoming – nothing over the top, just the usual kind of behavior expected from people oriented employees, regardless of their position.

I did see at most desks a specific sign to costumers like myself that abusive  kinds of behavior would not be tolerated.  There is certainly some reason for the sign, which I saw in several places.  Usually this kind of signage results from individual incidents.  There was no formal check-in procedure – like scanning for weapons, or such – but staffing for check-in was near the entrance

I noticed, as I always do, the personnel infrastructure of the hospital.  ANW is diverse in all ways; helpful, welcoming.

At the end of the day, near 9 hours, I had to access my car after normal hours, and first I had to navigate hallways in a building I’d never been in to find the correct entrance.   This is nothing unusual.  But several people on or off duty who happened across me were very helpful.

A text “how did we do?” assessment came at home soon after I arrived home.  It was about the valet service.  I gave it the highest score.  The entire institution deserved the kudos.

Thinking back on the day, most of what I experienced was contemporary communication.  50 years ago, up to really very recent past, there might be a television in the waiting area; doubtless there would be all points messages heard by everyone.  I found a single ragged People magazine, for neanderthals like me.  Today, virtually everyone is ‘wired’ – iPhones, laptops, wifi….  The whole world is accessible instantly to most anyone.  Even an old-timer like me text’ed messages (though I’m too wordy)!  TV isn’t needed.  It was there, but no sound.  No fighting over what channel.  You know the drill.  Every transaction can be private, but there is no privacy, really.  Years ago I sort of coined a phrase which seems pertinent today: “there are more ways to communicate less”.  We’re all in a learning curve.

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Enroute home, I took the usual route out of downtown, which took me within a couple of blocks of the VA Hospital where Alex Pritti had been ICU nurse.

I thought back t0 early 2006 to a time when my brother-in-law, Mike,  had been at theAlex’s  VA Hospital for an extended period of time, including 10 full days in ICU after a major surgery.  Mike was also mentally ill, and his assigned nurses would not have had an easy task.  (I liked him, but you know how this goes).  I visited Mike in ICU several times.  Of course, I made no particular notice of those who were caring for him – but they, like Alex, were always there.

Not long ago I wrote about my grandfather Bernard who spent most of the last year – 1956-57 – of his long life in the VA Hospital in Fargo ND.  Someone(s) were his Alex Pretti.

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We are best advised to learn from the tragedies that we are experiencing frequently these days.

In peace.