At 2am on a Friday, I should’ve been in bed—or at a club—but instead I was in the ER in Lisbon. With a fever of 102, I was lying horizontal trying to get comfortable on plastic waiting room chairs. But I couldn’t because the hospital and I had different ideas of what good communication looks like.
My little reception ticket said 150, but I couldn’t find that number anywhere on the waiting room screen. Had they forgotten me? Did I miss my chance? After waiting for a few hours, I went to the nurse who had checked me in. “My number isn’t showing on the screen. Can you tell me where I am in the line?” She gave me a blank stare and said, “This is normal. Maybe you’ll be next.”
A few days before I had received a text message from a man who had ghosted me back in February. “Hey Rebecca, how are you? Please excuse me for not responding in February. If you’re still up for meeting, let me know.”
Are you serious? “I’m not sure if I still want to meet. I’ve never been ghosted like that. Can you explain what happened?”
“You’re completely right, and I’m sorry. I handled it badly. I got completely consumed by work, and instead of just telling you that, I disappeared.”
Many people think that good communication is about nailing a TED Talk or successfully persuading the CEO of Google to roll out Gemini in India too. But communication is bigger than that: communication is care.
Good communication means caring whether the people in the hospital waiting room have clarity about when they’ll get seen.
Good communication means caring that the human being on the other side of your phone screen understands why you can’t meet—and that it’s not about them.
Good communication is caring enough to respond, even when it’s inconvenient for you.
This is what my parents taught me, and I still believe good communication is how we take care of each other.
After three hours in the waiting room, I finally got my turn. Outer and inner ear infection. Antibiotics for weeks. As I was leaving the doctor’s office with my prescription I said, “You know, the way you keep people waiting without clarity is cruel, especially because we’re all waiting there already in pain.” The doctor looked at me like I was crazy, and I walked out.
I think I’ll still meet up with that guy, but only because he said sorry.
So, who’s in your waiting room needing more care from you?
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