Dan Prince

Very recently, my sister suffered a major heart attack and was taken by ambulance to a 140-bed not-for-profit hospital, the suburban satellite of the region’s acknowledged leader in cardiac care. She spent a total of 5 days in this one facility, just enough time to experience two totally different realities.

First, the good – she received very good care when first admitted, because she went into the hospital’s Intensive Care Unit (ICU). The staff ratio was excellent, and she got lots of personalized attention. The nurses consulted with her regarding her care and prescribed exactly what medicines they were planning to give her before administering them. When she pushed her call button, someone showed up quickly. When she was thirsty (and dehydrated, as it turned out), they brought her Jello and a diet soft drink as well as a saline drip. In short, they took good care of her. And she felt cared for.

Then, the bad – her doctor said she was stable enough to move out of ICU. So she was transferred to a “regular” room on the same floor to rest and get her body functioning again. Unfortunately, the service level and quality of patient care dropped, starting as soon as she got into this step-down unit. Meds that were supposed to be administered to her at 9 am were delivered 45 minutes later, with no apology. Using the call button was an exercise in futility. Her doctor told her to take several short walks around the unit each day, but only with the assistance of a hospital staff member. However, they seldom showed up to help her, so she leaned on her husband instead. And one of the biggest ironies, for me, was the food. The first day in the unit, her noon tray arrived, and voila: a dried out hamburger plus cole slaw drowning in mayo! What kind of diet is that for someone that nearly died from a heart attack only 3 days earlier?

And finally, the ugly! In this particular hospital, most patients are put into shared rooms, meaning that they have a roommate. By itself, this may or may not be a problem. But when the sick patient in the next bed imports a half-dozen or more family members who gather round, talk loudly, play the TV constantly, and fail to leave even after visiting hours, the patient in the other bed (my sister) gets little rest or relaxation. This situation was made worse by the hospital staff, who would come in the middle of the night to bring in or move out another patient. The staff members would turn on all the lights in the room, talk loudly among themselves, bump against my sister’s bed, and generally show no respect for her and her condition. One nurse even complained about the hospital she is working for, saying the rooms were dirty!

If my sister is sent a patient satisfaction questionnaire, and it asks her to “rate” this hospital, she faces a tough choice. Should she rate the ICU experience, or the regular room experience? This shows the importance of having a patient feedback system that allows patients to discriminate between the different teams or units.

More importantly, this experience suggests, to me, a need for leadership that pays more attention to what is really happening, on every unit of the facility. Overall, I would NOT recommend this hospital, and I doubt that my sister would either, because the positive experience in one unit does not outweigh the negative one in the other.

Here is a case of one hospital providing two totally different experiences of the brand. What kind of experiences are your patients, members, or customers having? What does your brand really stand for? And how consistent is the delivery of your brand promise?