The waiting room was dingy, with a small sofa and 2 chairs at knee-knocking distance. I wondered if the glassy ocean print hanging over the sofa was a prompt for how visitors were expected to act-calm and unobtrusive. I would have preferred to be in the Labor and Delivery (L&D) suite with my daughter as she delivered her first child-but policy dictated otherwise. Two hours passed. I was becoming claustrophobic. My husband encouraged me to walk the hallway, "Maybe you will run into a staff member who could give us some information." I paced the hall a few times and stood near the L&D double doors. I could see a woman sitting at the desk reading a magazine. I slipped through the doors as if I had the right. "Can you let me know how my daughter is doing? Her name is...." I was curtly interrupted, "Please remain in the waiting room down the hall. Someone will be out to see you." I persisted, "There is no phone in the waiting room-is there some way to call the nurse manager to get a report." She looked up from her magazine, her voice rising with each word, "Someone will be out to see you when it is time!" I retreated to the tiny waiting room where we agonized for another 4 hours before our son-in-law appeared with the good news that our first grandson had arrived. That was 23 years ago when there were no cell phones, no technology to enhance information flow, and little clinical sensibility about how difficult it is "to wait."
Fast forward, 2 decades. My daughter was rushed to the hospital with acute appendicitis. The hospital receptionist directs us to the "Surgical Family Lounge." "Is 'lounge' a euphemism for "waiting room?" I think to myself. I am dreading both the "wait" and the "room." The sign "Surgical Family Lounge" perched over the doorway welcomed us to a huge, bright, and airy space with seating pods of comfortable upholstered furniture arranged throughout the room. There were private consultation rooms along the perimeter, a vending machine area, and a Wi-Fi-enabled area for connectivity. In the center of the lounge, and it really was a lounge, was a curved desk situated under 2 large computer screens that could be seen from any spot in the lounge. The receptionist welcomed us and asked for whom we were waiting. She then handed us a guide, titled "Family Passport," with a 6-digit number that represented our daughter's name. "You can track your daughter's progress on the screens above." And, there was her number and the phrase "In Surgery." Other ID numbers indicated that patients were in prep, recovery, or transferred to their rooms. "Please give us your cell number in case you leave the lounge and we need to call you and do have a seat. After surgery, someone will meet with you and review your daughter's condition." We settled into our easy chairs and I read a book on my phone Kindle app as we waited. I watched as the staff led other families into consultations rooms to get results. An hour later, the receptionist asked us to take a call from an operating room nurse who reported that the procedure went well, our daughter was being transferred to recovery, and the surgeon would meet with us shortly. The surgeon appeared in the "lounge" area, sat with my husband and me, recounted my daughter's experience and progress, and invited questions. We were then escorted to Recovery and happily reunited with our daughter.
What led this clinical setting to evolve its "waiting rooms" to "family lounges," to invest considerable resources in attending to the stresses of those "waiting," and to the need for information, privacy, and courtesy? Consumer feedback, patient empowerment, health system competition, and innovative hospital design have conspired over the years to demand caring spaces where patients' loved ones can be comfortable, connected, and informed. Furthermore, researchers who study the patient experience have confirmed that "...supporting physical and psycho-social needs and space design are linked with positive experiences, a key metric for today's healthcare organizations."1 It's holistic!
-Gloria F. Donnelly, PhD, RN, FAAN, FCPP
Editor-in-Chief
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