We hope you are feeling better
Mar. 8th, 2016 08:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asakiyumeYesterday the healing angel got a card-shaped envelope from the emergency room where I'd taken him at the beginning of his medical adventure. Since I'd already paid the sizable deductible for taking him there, and since, anyway, it wasn't bill-shaped, I was curious.
"What's that, a thank-you-for-visiting-us card?" I asked, sarcastically.
The healing angel opened it. Inside was this message:
We hope you are feeling better after your recent visit and we truly appreciate you entrusting us with your health care
It was signed by (well, printed with the signature of) the ER doctor who had taken care of him.
"Um, yeah, seems to be!" the healing angel replied.
I felt surprisingly moved by the gesture. It wasn't personal, but as a protocol--a thing to do automatically--it was kind and touching.
... Or so I felt, unalloyed by cynicism, for about a minute. Then I wondered about the dad who'd come because he'd been turned away from urgent care--who had no choice but to visit the emergency room. I thought about people who are going to be hurt way more in the pocket than I was by this visit, and I thought, for them the card will be pretty cold comfort. And what if you're not better? What if your condition is chronic and getting worse? Or what if you were treated poorly? Though I have to say: all the interactions I overheard were respectful and kindly.
Still, even with those thoughts, I get a lump in my throat. That message is reaching for the personal relations that people crave, and the reaching is worth something, even if the signatures are printed on.
"What's that, a thank-you-for-visiting-us card?" I asked, sarcastically.
The healing angel opened it. Inside was this message:
We hope you are feeling better after your recent visit and we truly appreciate you entrusting us with your health care
It was signed by (well, printed with the signature of) the ER doctor who had taken care of him.
"Um, yeah, seems to be!" the healing angel replied.
I felt surprisingly moved by the gesture. It wasn't personal, but as a protocol--a thing to do automatically--it was kind and touching.
... Or so I felt, unalloyed by cynicism, for about a minute. Then I wondered about the dad who'd come because he'd been turned away from urgent care--who had no choice but to visit the emergency room. I thought about people who are going to be hurt way more in the pocket than I was by this visit, and I thought, for them the card will be pretty cold comfort. And what if you're not better? What if your condition is chronic and getting worse? Or what if you were treated poorly? Though I have to say: all the interactions I overheard were respectful and kindly.
Still, even with those thoughts, I get a lump in my throat. That message is reaching for the personal relations that people crave, and the reaching is worth something, even if the signatures are printed on.
