What is it about doctor’s offices, anyway? Just as doctors vary wildly in quality from one to the other, their offices and waiting rooms vary just as much, if not more, and I wonder why it is that we put up with such aesthetic injustice and creature discomfort.
Just the other day, I went for a follow-up visit with a dental specialist to whom I was referred. Sitting in the cramped waiting room, I took note of my surroundings (since I unfortunately had plenty of time to do just that.). First, I noticed the very old---and most likely moldy---carpet. Next, my attention was drawn to the ever-so-unsightly fake wood paneling that does little to inspire confidence. And it only gets worse.
I’m sorry, but doctor’s offices should play music that’s as relaxing as possible for the largest percentage of people (especially when dental care is involved). This particular office chooses to play one of those mainstream radio stations that blasts recycled Billy Joel songs from the 1970s, the DJ’s boasting that they’ll never repeat a song between 9am and 5pm or they’ll cut you a check for $1000. The music plays in every exam room, and a thirty-minute wait for the doctor had me gritting my teeth (Not a good idea before a dental visit, mind you). I’ll never leave my iPod at home on the day of a medical visit again!
And then there are the magazines. This particular office never seems to have a single magazine that interests me. At this visit, I couldn’t even find a magazine that was published in 2008. Copies of People and Us from 2006 seemed ubiquitous, but couldn’t there be anything even remotely current? Reading materials and the comfort of patients are surely an afterthought in this office, and the sad reality is that such oversight is all too common in most any medical office. Woe to the patient who expects too much!
Luckily, the state of the waiting area is not a reflection on the state of the actual dental equipment in the exam rooms of this particular dental professional, a fact that does boost my confidence in this provider greatly (although the cabinets and sinks do look wholly ancient and anemic). That same hideous fake wood paneling graces every wall in the office, giving it the feeling of a middle-class family room from the same period as those old Billy Joel songs. Next I expect to see a bean-bag chair and a Nerf-Ball set. Oh, the indignity!
Partially matching his own office décor in some way, the doctor himself wears frumpy clothes and dirty glasses, and his demeanor, while kind, is admittedly somewhat crass. I’m never sad to leave this office as quickly as possible, and I wonder how anyone could manage to work there more than a few days. Are they blind, ignorant, or simply aesthetically challenged, I wonder aloud as I hurriedly exit, stage left.
The next day, I visit one of my favorite providers, a neurologist who specializes in sleep disorders. Entering his office is like entering a small art gallery. The walls are papered tastefully, with wainscoting halfway up each wall for a pleasant, cozy old-fashioned effect. Calming classical music plays very unobtrusively, and a soft carpet muffles the sounds of every footstep. Very carefully chosen art graces each wall, with rich colors and high-quality frames. A few well-placed plants give the waiting area a homey feeling, and all of the magazines are current, in good condition, and apparently straightened by the staff quite frequently, because they are never out of order.
Each exam room is equally tasteful and elegant, with sleek computers, high-quality exam tables, brand new cabinetry, and the same plush carpet on the floors. The doctor himself wears crisp, well-pressed shirts and slacks, with matching tie and clean lab coat. He is anything but crass.
When I ask about his new office, he proudly gives me a tour, highlighting the new sleep study rooms----veritable hotel suites----complete with high-quality cotton sheets, plush comforters, flat-screen TVs, and state-of-the-art beds. He shows me a plaque dedicated to the architectural firm who designed the office, and he laughs when I joke regarding what must have been prohibitive construction costs. His follow-up comments are remarkable, in that they belie the fact that he and his partners felt that it was most important to create an environment wherein patients would feel comfortable, calm, and confident in the care that they receive. Specializing in sleep, he made it abundantly clear that such a personal form of medicine necessitates a personalized patient experience, and giving such attention to the office can only enhance the care given and received there.
I highlight these two offices in order to draw a stark contrast between what I will call “the conscious medical practice” and “the unconscious medical practice”. The conscious practice will do everything in its power to create an environment where patients feel cared for and cared about. In this office, expense will be incurred to achieve such ends since the providers understand that such expenses will eventually pay for themselves in terms of positive patient experiences and subsequent referrals based upon those experiences.
By contrast, the unconscious medical practice limps along, spending as little on patient comfort as possible, with lapsed magazine subscriptions, peeling paint, moldy carpet, outdated furniture, and ageing equipment, resulting in what I would term “Sick Medical Practice Syndrome”. Rather than inspiring trust and confidence, this practice inspires suspicion and anxiety. Rather then creating a welcoming environment, this medical practice creates a space that tolerates the patient’s presence without rewarding it. Oh, you can be certain that great attention to detail is paid to billing and coding---the bread and butter of medical practices---and that no expense is too great for a provider to be able to receive the fullest financial benefit for his or her work (and well they should after suffering medical school and its subsequently astronomical debt!). But couldn’t she or he also pay just a little more attention to the comfort of those who help to produce those very profits?
Perhaps I sound like a spoiled middle-class American with too much time on my hands. However, even if that characterization is true, receiving medical care is a highly personal affair, and while doctors' overhead is admittedly high, a modicum of effort towards beautifying the environment where healthcare is provided can go a long way towards improving patients' overall experience. I maintain that patients deserve to be treated with respect, not only on an interpersonal level, but also as consumers.
The next time you’re in a medical office, pay close attention to these small details. Is the waiting room comfortable? Are the magazines up to date? Do you feel valued as a patient? Is your presence tolerated or welcomed? Have any measures been taken to ensure your comfort and appease your anxiety? If your answer to any of these questions is yes, consider yourself lucky. If you answered no to most or all of these questions, consider your experience fairly close to the norm. And then ask yourself, don’t I deserve more than this?
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NurseKeith is a writer, nurse, blogger, and consultant. Feel free to visit his blog, Digital Doorway .
