Children's Mercy

I took a half day off work to take Em to her neurologist. She's prone to migraines and about once a year goes for a followup with the specialist who writes prescriptions to prevent this.

The artist formerly known as Frau Lobster dropped Em off at my house early. I knew one of the things the doc (who's first name is spelled the same as his last name but pronounced differently) was keen to get her doing was fish oil. We tried to get her to take a gel cap of it a few years back and she freaked herself out so badly she couldn't get it down.



After much fatherly needling, I convinced her to try throwing one back and taking a big gulp of chocolate soy milk. Then she was mad at me because it really was as easy as I said it was.



So now she has no excuse. Ha!

Anyway, the hospital this doctor's office is in, Children's Mercy, is the most attractive hospital I've ever seen. They have a concrete parking garage, sure. But they paint the levels with different colors and paint the walls around the elevators with fanciful scenes. There are colored accent lights in the hallways, brightly colored borders to things and kid-friendly artwork. It's an environment that was given some thought, the thought being that sick kids don't need to be in an environment engineered to make even a healthy kid feel half dead.

So here's the thing: what is the excuse of all these other hospitals? These cosmetic touches are not expensive by the looks of it. Sure, it cost something to paint murals in the parking garage instead of leaving it bare concrete, but surely some money could be freed up in the average hospital by, say, cutting back on harshly over-lighting the hallways or something.



The main thing is, the average hospital is built with no thought to the patients or staff. They're built along the same general principles of those Tyson chicken factories: calculate how many units can be stacked in how much space and the architecture part is done. Just order some pre-fab concrete slabs and glass, skin a couple of illegals to do the manual labor, and you've got yourself a hospital.

Oh, and the artwork on the walls. I spotted the absolute gay-weddingest Bert and Ernie I've ever seen. When I was growing up, it was don't-ask-don't-tell with these two, but I guess they've decided to come out. Way out.