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Between Check-In Desk and Paper Gown

A health clinic exists at a peculiar crossbreed. Tremendous movement stamps on sterile repose. Individuals proceed with phones, folders, or issues which they are yet to develop into language. Armchairs skid over the floor. A printer coughs. One of them laughs too late. Time is here measured out, cut in even measured chunks. Learn more!

This mood is created in silence at the front desk. An authentic welcome will relax a constricted chest more rapidly than the medicines. One cold look will take that relief as fast as possible. Clinics operate in a manner of short conversations: a clipboard is given without any ado, pen works without prodding. Such scenes are more than any slogan on the wall.

Clinicians sneak time up pocketed. Some visits require speed. Some require space and time. Listening is an expensive undertaking in a busy schedule but it is rewarding. Allow individuals the freedom of speech and the issue usually comes out. Truncate them and the tale will no longer have a form.

Technology remains in touch with humans. Screens glow. Alerts chime. Charts pile up. Then a hand that is steady on an arm--grounded, real. The machines count; human beings make sense out of the numbers. The beat is not necessarily flowing, but will is what keeps it going.

Care hardly ever goes directly. Symptoms drift. Examinations imply than profess. Change comes in not at full speed. Patients seek certainty. Clinicians react in a manner that is direct and truthful. Both parties are patient and can be tight-lipped.

Humor slips in quietly. A joke about the paper gown. One remark on an icy stethoscope. The tension is relieved through laughter. It does not resolve the problem but it leaves space.

The whole system is driven by trust. It requires time to accumulate and it empties quickly. Keep promises. Return calls. Not the consequences, not merely the consequences, but the reasons. Limits can be accepted. Silence cannot.

There are those that are never seen in brochures. Skipped meals. Silent relief. Hard realities in soft packages. Minor accomplishments rewarded by a nod. Employees take these experiences home, packaged in commonplace.

Logistics is important but emotion does matter as well. Floors should be clean. Signs should lead clearly. Chairs do not need to be telling us. Water should be easy to find. These decisions are articulate without uttering a word.

A medical clinic is at best a neighborhood workshop plainspoken, trustworthy, and and collaborative. Problem by problem, issues are encountered and problems are mutually addressed.

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