I realize that you’re very busy this time of year, and that getting my list to you at this late date is more than a little inconsiderate. I also recognize that as an adult, I’m not necessarily entitled to the same level of attention as my shorter, younger peers.
But I’m young at heart (sounds better than “immature”), and hell, there’s no harm in asking. Sure, maybe there’s roughly 0% chance that my daughter will wake up Christmas morning with wings, but did that stop her from asking you to turn her into a fairy for Christmas? No, it did not.
And with that, my list. I humbly request:
A new stethoscope. A nice one, please. I’m partial to teal, but any color will do.
A stack of post-its, with sticky stuff that actually sticks (no cheap pharmaceutical freebies, please) and which somehow resists “disappearing” at the hands of nameless, faceless desk thieves in the night.
A breast pump that somehow manages to extract more than my large hungry baby can handle before the patient in the exam room next door gets impatient and/or curious about the strange sound coming through the wall.
Scheduling staff that understand that those patients that seem the most hesitant to state the reason for their appointment are probably the ones who are most need of our long appointments, and are willing to schedule them accordingly.
An administration that realizes that there are ways to measure quality of care beyond how quickly a patient is moved from the waiting room to the exam room.
A new lab coat. Just cuz my old coat’s getting pretty dingy.
A bottomless supply of Plan B to hand out to anyone who wants it.
An EMR that magically connects to every other medical record in the city, seamlessly integrating patient care across facilities and providers. If my kid can ask to be turned into a fairy, I can ask for this.
(JK, Santa! I don’t have the time or money for a puppy. But the other stuff would be swell.) (Really, whatever you can do would be great. I’ll settle for a box of chocolates and one free lunch sometime in March. No pressure.)