Lessons Learned from Childrens National Medical Center, Washington DC

Why a "well oiled machine run so well."

Monday evening  the sharp squeeks of sneakers moving, girls shouting and parents clapping came to a sudden stop, as did my heart, the moment I saw my daughter brought down hard in a battle for the basket ball, and heard the dull thud of her head hitting the hard wood floor.

In that moment, time was frozen in silence. Suddenly I was on the floor and holding her hand  and coaxing my evervescent, bubbly and talkative 14 year old to open her eyes and please talk to me.


Suddenly letting go of my hand, she lost consciousnes, and everything else blurred: EMT's loading her in an ambulance, following in a daze, in the ambulance, cringing at her jolting awake, gagging from the smelling salts. Like a soundtrack in a move, I heard the dreamy background whine of the sirens while the driver sliced right through rush hour traffic, delivering us to the hospital in what felt like 5 minutes and at the same time, like 5 hours.



The second the doors opened at Children's they were there, ready and anticipating our arrival, and I felt as though we had cleared a hurdle. I was met by a nurse who immediately linked me to a social services team member would be my liason throughout the trauma room experience. Once in the trauma room, she explained that she was there to answer any questions as needed regarding what was being done to help my daughter.


As I witnessed, first hand, the 7 or 8 members of the trauma team working in concert, I felt the first wisps of 'everything will be okay.'


I was both amazed and impressed at how each member diligently worked with a specific and fine tuned purpose, yet different from those working beside them.  At the same time, each member of the team was ultimately working towards a common goal - healing my daughter.


Like a well oiled machine with numerous moving parts, the entire team was focused on identifying the severity of my daughter's injury and doing whatever it took to fix what was going on.


The large, stop-watch type digital clock on the wall, started on her arrival, told me in 24 minutes she had been completly assessed, de-clothed and robed, IV inserted, oxygen hissing and assisting her breathing and she was on her way to radiology and a CT.


15 minutes later, in an ER slot, the soft hum and beeps reassured me my daughter was well monitored and anything that could happen would trigger an immediate alert to the trauma team and a speedy return to her room.


We were informed of what the CT revealed and asked if we had any questions. Once again on route, we were escorted behind my daughter's stretcher to her room for the night.


A med tech arrived and introduced herself, quickly and quietly took our daughter's vitals, all while politely explaining the room, where things were and how things worked. She then introduced my daughter's nurse for the evening. Like the next member of a relay team, Pam our nurse for the night, took the baton and continued with explaining what would happen throughout the evening and why it was needed.


Sheets and blankets appeared on the couch next to the bed, so I could stay with my daughter throughout the evening. Down the hall, in the patient's family waiting room there were computers and parents on line paying bills, or updating their relatives on their child's status. Vending machines provided healthy food choices for families 24 hours a day. Microwaves are available to heat food packed at home. Comfy couches for the exhausted to have a break, tables and chairs for a sibling doing homework, but able to be close to their ailing brother or sister.


On the way back to my daughter's room,  something was missing - and it hit me. Where was the all important "nurses station?" It had been replaced with efficient looking work stations between rooms. Instead of running back and forth alternating between entering information and caring for patients, any member of the team that supported your child need only step outside to update and pop back in as needed.


Walking those halls I was conscious of how grateful and lucky I was. My daughter was injured, but would be walking out of that hospital the very next day, confident she would soon be playing basketball, volleyball or lacrosse again after healing.


The majority of the Children's patients and families spend too many weeks or months there, battling tenacious, incideous diseases.


As they jiggled their babies walking the halls, fed their toddler in a crib type hospital bed or pulled their youngsters in bright red wagons provided by the hospital to the next room or therapy, I know I saw gratitude on those parent's faces.


If I were in their shoes, I would be grateful too.  I would be thankful I was in a hospital that took the time and effort to study and research how they could best help families in these situations.  I would be relieved to be in a place that strived to make the journey a little easier for those struggling with, and overwhelmed by, a disease that crept into their lives by invading their child's body.


From a business perspective everything made sense to me too. It must be much easier to work with a well rested and informed parent who didn't feel cut off from everything going on with their child's health.

I believe the positive attitude of their staff, rubs off on the patients and families, which in turn, re-inspires the staff.  The level of communication between every staff member I came in touch with was incredible. Walking through the halls I can't think of a time I passed someone with a bear on their shirt that didn't say hello or good morning.


There are many lessons to be learned from Childrens National Medical Center, ones that apply anywhere in life, your family, business, and friendships.


Children's National Medical Center recognizes the importance of feeling a part of the process, being communicated to in a direct and honest fashion, knowing the roles of all those involved, feeling welcomed, being provided the tools to do what you need to do, and ultimately, knowing someone understands, and there is a place to rest when it all gets a bit overwhelming.


From my perspective, I never want my daughter to be injured like that again, but if it happens, I know I am very lucky and grateful we live near the Children's National Medical Center.

Blow Dryers and Helicopters

Lessons learned - from the new mom to helicopter parents.

After our first son was born; the nurse came to our room, assuming she should take the baby out of the room while I blow-dried my hair. Looking down at my son and glancing skeptically at the blow-dryer, I replied, ‘why?’ then quickly adding, “I do this at home too, he might as well get used to it.”

Our fervent desire to protect our children needs to be balanced. We need to be conscious of what we’re protecting them from. Otherwise our children grow up in a bubble, separated from the realities of life, not learning how to respond to failure or frustration. How will they know how to accept defeat graciously or win with humility if they aren’t ‘allowed’ to fail? How do they learn to recover, if they never have anything to recover from?

Some parents morph into ‘helicopter’ parents, they constantly hover. They swoop in and protect before any harm or foul. These choppers land stocked with accusations, reasons and excuses; whatever’s needed to prevent the sting.

Sadly, they’re preventing their child from learning to grow from the experience. Their children miss learning that basic physics lesson in life: ‘for every action, there is a re-reaction.’

Hair dryers blow when naps are needed, tests studied for aren’t always passed, and team rosters won’t always have their name. These things happen. Our children will make many bad choices along the way. People get hurt. No one is perfect, their stumbles, and the lessons learned in picking themselves up are worth the tears and fears in the moment.

Jabbing a fork in a plug absolutely requires our immediate and speedy intervention.

Being passed over for the dodge ball team, does not.

Loving and supporting them, walking with them through the repercussions of their actions - always.

From my perspective, protecting children from every little thing isn’t protection. Doing this teaches kids to spend their lives avoiding any chance of failure, pain or making a mistake, which is an exhausting endeavor and destined to fail. Unfortunately, when failure does happen, they won’t know what hit them.

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A Mother's Love

Motherhood: a never ending role in life, one of life's most rewarding accomplishments, and at the same time one of the hardest jobs in the world. Yet millions of women never think twice about all they have given. In their efforts they find the ability to give more than they ever knew they had to give. For mothers, it is instinctive - it is a part of our very being; the overwhelming urge to protect, nourish, love and encourage. Toni Morrison, author of "Beloved," wrote it best when she penned, "

Grown don't mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What's that suppose to mean? In my heart it don't mean a thing."

Our children walk out of the door each morning going to school,eventually adventuring to college and ultimately leaving our homes for their new lives.

The minutes, days and years away from their mothers, they are never gone from their thoughts, hearts, or lives.

From the time we are carrying that precious seed in our womb to opening our bodies to give them life are just the first baby steps of motherhood.

Instinctively, we abandon anything needed to keep them healthy, safe and thriving. We go without so they can have.

We lift them up from each of their stumbles, encouraging them to try again. We tether them when they need to learn self-restraint. We are their biggest cheerleaders in life, and their voice of reason in the next breath.

Throughout their tears, anger and rebellions, we continue to love them through our actions and in our thoughts and words.

Patiently, we wait for them to grow beyond those rough stages. We are relieved when we see they are able to look back and know that what we did, was always done with love for them.

We remind ourselves when they push away from us, it's because we have raised them to be strong and confident children.

When they come back, heads down,needing our help -this is affirmation of their trust in our never ending love for them.

When they experience the pain from mistakes they've made, we learn to celebrate their growth from their experience and take heart in knowing it will make them stronger in the end.

When they apologize for pain they cause us, we take comfort in knowing they have learned sincerity from hearing our apologies over the years for our mistakes.

When they are hurting at the pain of others, while comforting them we are buoyed with pride in their display of empathy; knowing, in our house, they learned sensitivity to the needs of others.,

Each joyful experience in motherhood is usually countered by one as painful; mothers accept both equally. In a mother's wisdom she knows she grows stronger from the pain, only garnering the strength to be there again and again when her child needs her.

What is the gift given to mothers? Perhaps the gift is in the experience itself.

Those who answer to "Mom" receive the ultimate gift, the lifelong experience of knowing a true and pure love, a love that knows no boundaries and provides more strength than ever imagined. A Mother's Love is unparalleled.

If you don't know what true love looks like; look into the eyes of any mother.