An Encounter with Kindness
User Story
By Mary Pat Barry
Edmonton is privileged to be home to some of Canada’s finest medical professionals working in state-of-the-art facilities. The University of Alberta Hospital delivers compassionate care – through medical professionals who are people first. The University of Alberta Hospital is one of the reasons I am proud to be an Edmontonian.
It was Thursday, March 30th, 2006 in Edmonton. I was in the day surgery waiting room at the city’s University of Alberta Hospital with my sister, Leslie. Like many in that room it was my first encounter with cancer and I was scared.
Edmonton’s University Hospital is busy. I arrived early – but so did all the others who, I imagined, had similar concerns to mine. There was a lineup of 8 people at the registration desk. Standing in line you quickly realize there’s a fairly automated procedure to quickly and efficiently move people through the sign-in. The questions are set. The requests to fill this form, provide that information, confirm details, roll off automatically. The routine seems the same, until it is your turn…
In the line ahead of me was an elderly woman I’ll call Mrs. Smith. She reminded me of my Mom. Likely in her mid-seventies she was small, slim, soft spoken and clearly nervous. She was alone. Through the course of registering she explained that she’d been dropped off by a neighbour. She confirmed shyly that someone would pick her up when she was discharged.
With the comfort of my sister for support, I answered the questions and then waited until I was called forward. I changed into the standard hospital gown, got onto a cold bed and was rolled to a waiting area outside the theatre where my surgeon was to meet me.
I looked around. Others from the waiting room were parked on both sides of the hall. Just down from me was Mrs. Smith. My heart went out to her. Already a wisp of a woman, she looked tiny and vulnerable nestled in the stark hospital bed.
A young surgeon briskly walked in, looked around, noticed the little lady and marched to her thumbing through a chart as he went. He re-introduced himself, shook her hand and started the briefing.
He looked her directly in the eye and explained the procedure. He told her about the nurses and assistants who would be in the room. He described what the anesthesiologist would do and the procedure they would use. Mrs. Smith smiled slightly and nodded. She didn’t interrupt. She was accommodating and encouraging, but passive. It seemed to me that she didn’t want to be any sort of problem. She didn’t want to cause any delay.
Having completed his task, the doctor asked Mrs. Smith if she had any questions. She was hesitant. Her soft voice wavered anxiously as she said, “Oh no. No, doctor.” The ache in her voice was tangible. She was nervous. I felt it and so did her doctor.
He paused, took her hand gently and then very kindly said, “Mrs. Smith, you don’t have any questions for me. But I have a question for you. Who is the most important person in the surgical theatre?”
She looked at him clearly puzzled and said, “Why doctor, it’s you – you’re the surgeon. You are the most important.”
Still holding her hand he shook his head slowly and said softly, “No, Mrs. Smith. The most important person in the room today is you. We are all here for you.”
Mrs. Smith’s face relaxed. She smiled and she nodded. You could feel her relief.
I wished at that moment, that her young doctor was my surgeon. His words brought relief to us all.
