The day I lost my mother – column by Mark Elschot

by Erik Bouwer

The day I lost my mother – column by Mark Elschot

by Erik Bouwer

by Erik Bouwer
Care process

Image: Ziptone

Recently, early in the morning, I received a text message you’d rather not get. “Sweetheart, I have to go to the hospital by ambulance, x Mom.” That was the only information available. Often enough, I still say that the caller is faster. But still, calling while my mother is being examined is just another thing. I decided to call her an hour later, because if it’s an emergency, the hospital will call me.

 

That bad luck never comes alone became evident here as well. Her phone was dead, and my mother hadn't brought the charger. End of line of communication. But I'm not easily deterred, so I fell back on my basic phone skills. I called the hospital, and that's how the 'help, I'm finding a patient' operation began.

The lady at the reception told me that her only function was to transfer calls. That was handled properly. I then ended up at the Emergency Department. There, they were not allowed to say anything about patients. Understandable, of course; privacy is important. Service-oriented as the gentleman on the line was, he added that the lady was no longer on this department. Nice to know in itself, but where is she then? “We are not allowed to comment on that.” I hung up with less information than I had started with.

Wait twenty minutes

My mother was lost. Fortunately not in a figurative sense, but unfortunately in the literal sense. So a search began across various departments. She is now well over 75, so I started with a phone call to Cardiology. No one answered. Not even after I had let the phone ring for over twenty minutes. Neurology, then? No one on the line immediately there either. Although, after 5 minutes, I got a voice I recognized from the beginning of my search. I was back at the reception desk with the transfer function.

Anyone who has ever been in uncertainty about a family member knows how frustrating that feels. You are not looking for medical details. You don't want to view a file. You just want to know if someone has arrived safely and where you can visit them. Of course, I am very aware of the fact that the medical specialists and nursing staff are busy providing the right care. And that there is a staff shortage. But still: there was no one who could speak to me.

Medical staff have other, and often more important, things to do than answer phone calls. Healthcare professionals should be focusing on patients, not on queues. But precisely because healthcare professionals are so scarce, we should protect them from tasks that others might be better able to perform.

After all, if I call an airline with a question about my flight, I don't get the pilot on the phone at cruising altitude. If I call my energy supplier, I don't get the maintenance technician on the line. And if I call an online shop, no one expects a warehouse employee to pick up the phone in between to check if the package has been prepared for shipment yet.

We have come up with something for that: customer contact departments. A department with specialists, too. Specialists who handle customer inquiries, provide information, manage expectations, and know when to scale up. In fact, in almost every sector, we consider it perfectly normal for professionals to be able to do their work without being constantly interrupted by phone calls. Except in healthcare.

The patient journey does not begin at the first consultation.

Why don't we adapt the care process to this? It is happening here and there. I see wonderful examples of healthcare organizations that are handling service delivery and accessibility with increasing professionalism. Organizations that understand that a patient journey does not begin with the doctor, but already at the first point of contact. Organizations that use customer contact as an extension of care rather than as a necessary evil.

Because let's be honest. In my situation, no one would have had to provide medical information. Someone from a specialized customer contact team could have said: Your mother has been safely admitted. We are not allowed to share medical information, but she is on the Cardiology ward, room 6.23. If she does not have any examinations, you may visit her as usual. Wishing you strength.

Then I could have breathed a sigh of relief. Problem solved. What perhaps struck me most was that everyone I spoke to did their utmost. The receptionist was friendly. The employees were helpful within the rules they had. The problem was not with the people. It was with the design of the process. And that is important to realize. In the Netherlands, we are sometimes inclined to view service as something extra. As a luxury. Something you do when there is time left over.

Service provision is part of business operations, especially in healthcare.

But service provision is not an extra; it is part of business operations. In healthcare too—no, especially in healthcare! For treatment is important to the patient. For family members, information is often at least as important. After all, uncertainty fills every information gap you allow to persist.

And for anyone who thinks that customer contact and customer contact in healthcare are two different worlds: the reason for contact is exactly the same as at an airline, an energy supplier, or an online shop. A need for information. Let this be a call to all healthcare organizations: learn from the organizations that have already set up this process professionally. If you can understand the workings of the human body, then you should also understand customer contact.

(Ziptone/Mark Elschot)

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