Satisfaction Survey

On the morning before I got my discharge orders from my doctor, a sharp looking, pleasant woman knocked on my door to ask me if I had any comments or complaints about my hospital stay.  She encouraged me to speak freely.  I told her that I was impressed.  As a practicing dentist in Carroll County, I had heard conflicting reports over  the years, about the quality of care at Carroll Hospital.  I told her the nurses were great, and the physicians seemed to pull together to  provide a successful treatment. 

She then broadened the conversation by sharing her fear of root canals, and her need for nitrous oxide to cope with the anxiety.  I related to her fear, with this being my first hospital stay in 63 years.  It started in excruciating pain, involved surgery, scans, and a few complications, which resulted in prognosis of uncertainty into the future.  I quickly showed her my cell phone photo taken yesterday, of seven Dominican sisters around my bedside.  “Here is my nitrous oxide.”, I exclaimed.  I told her that this was a group of over three hundred sisters, who had included me on their prayer list.  I told her that the sisters, several churches, my family, and several extended families had been covering my back with prayer. 

She tried to get back to her survey, so I tried to expand on the difficulties in getting three or four doctors to agree on treatment.  Before I could phrase my comment, I told her that our eldest daughter was one of the Dominican sisters, and that she caught a flight from Minnesota, when she heard of my hospitalization.  She sensed my appreciation as I attempted to articulate how our grown children reacted to this crisis.  “Our eldest son lives  in  Chicago.  He dropped everything, canceled work, put his pregnant wife and three active boys on hold, and booked a flight.”  At this point I could feel my voice cracking as my eyes began to tear. 

I continued, “Our youngest daughter, who just started a new job, left her husband and two adorable kids in Dayton, as she also got the first possible flight”  Now, I became incoherent as the tears took over.  I concluded with our youngest son, Spencer, his wife Bess, and their six month baby, who drove all night from Dayton, Ohio.  They came for me.  They came for my wife, Jane.  I completely broke down.

She maintained her distance as she observed, “You are loved.” 

I nodded, and mumbled, “No complaints.’”