Healthcare Design - December 2017 - 41

The

Center

P E R S O N A L M AT T E R S

I've always known what we do affects millions of
patients and their families. Recently, I was one of
them By Debra Levin

Y WORK AT The Center for Health Design has always been very personal for me, guided by a mission to make the world a bit better for patients,
family, and staff through the design of healthcare
spaces that support the delivery of safe and highquality care.
It's now become personal in a different way,
though. I'm writing this column in a neurology
ICU unit in Scottsdale, Ariz., where my mother is being treated after suffering a severe stroke from which she is not likely to recover. I've been here
for days, riding the emotional roller coaster that anyone who has been in an
ICU with a loved one experiences: small victories balanced by devastating
defeats. There's nothing linear about the recovery path from a catastrophic
event, especially when the patient is in her mid-80s.
I've spent hours in her private room, used a nearby consult space to call
into a board of directors meeting, observed the nurses' area when staff
needed to tend to my mother privately, and met
with visitors in the family waiting room where we
I'M SEEING FIRSTHAND
tried to understand what was happening in order
HOW A WELL-DESIGNED
to make the best decision for someone we love.
HEALTHCARE FACILITY
Through all of this, I'm seeing firsthand how a
well-designed healthcare facility can make a very
CAN MAKE A VERY
difficult time a little easier for the family and how
DIFFICULT TIME A LITTLE
staff can leverage the space to provide outstanding care. Here's what has stood out to me.
EASIER FOR FAMILY.
Quiet. One thing that keeps striking me about
this space is how quiet it is for a 40-plus-bed ICU. At a time when anxiety levels are through the roof, there's very little outside noise to further heighten
that stress. The general feeling of calm created provides a sense of confidence that we're in good hands.
Private ICU rooms. In my mother's room, we've got four family members, her hospital bed, and all the equipment needed for her care. Various
additional visitors filter in and out throughout the day along with a bevy of
care team members cycling in and out 24/7. The room has a huge window
that provides an abundance of natural light. Comfortable chairs don't leave

you feeling like you need chiropractic care after
sitting for 12 hours. The design has made it possible for us to be with her and be seen by her without getting in the way of her care team. A large
clock and patient information board has allowed
my mom to keep track of how long she's been
here, which in an odd way has given her some
sense of control in a situation where most of her
autonomy is gone.
Distributed and centralized nurses' stations. This ICU uses a racetrack design, with the
rooms divided into four-pod units that function
independently and diminish the sense that you're
in a large department. Most of my time has been
spent watching and waiting, which has given me
a lot of time to observe and talk with staff. Some
nurses prefer their distributed workstations so
they can keep a close eye on their patients, while
others work from a centralized station where
they can track patient vitals and connect with
their peers. Most bounce back and forth effortlessly, depending on their needs and the acuity of
their patients. By not forcing them into one work
pattern, the caregivers find their own groove in a
space that supports their work habits.
Decompression space. Having a variety of
decompression spaces that allow family members to get away, compose, and even take care of
work helps tremendously. It's important to offer small spaces where individuals can be alone
as well as larger spaces where multiple families
can interact. In one of the family rooms here, I
watched as an elderly woman, already here for
five weeks, showed my almost 90-year-old dad
how to turn one of the chairs into a bed so he
could get some rest.
I've always known that what we do matters and
I'm constantly telling the staff at The Center that
the work they do every day, in some small way,
eases the burden for people they will never meet,
people in highly stressed situations who have lost
some level of control of their lives. This week, I
was one of those people. 
Debra Levin is president and CEO of The Center for
Health Design. She can be reached at D L E V I N @
H E A LT H D E S I G N . O R G .

Editor's note: Debra Levin's mother, Ada Margolin
Levin, died on Oct. 23 at the age of 86.

DECEMBER 2017

Healthcare Design - December 2017

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