There’s a strange paradox in modern healthcare: we’re awash in technology, AI, robotics, and complicated transformation projects, yet we routinely fail at the basics, like letting someone know where the cafeteria is or giving a nervous family member a realistic idea of how long they’ll be waiting for a surgical update. The patient experience suffers not because we don’t care, but because we’ve allowed task-driven operations to override common sense and compassion.
This article isn’t about new apps or cutting-edge algorithms. It’s about simple, boring things that any hospital can do today to make life a little better for patients, families, and yes, even for the clinicians doing the work. None of this requires a six-month project plan. Most of it doesn’t even require a budget. What it does require is empathy and the discipline to acknowledge the people we serve are humans just like us. Here are five ways to start.
1. Start with the map, and mean it
A few months ago, we wrote about setting patient expectations and mapping out typical clinician workflows. Now let’s focus on a different sort of map: wayfinding.
Wayfinding in hospitals is notoriously difficult, which is exactly why so many staff must default to saying, “I’ll walk you there,” instead of relying on the signage or other design elements. It sounds helpful, and it is, but it’s actually a quiet admission that the signs don’t work. If patients can’t find their way without a human escort, that’s not a point of pride; it’s a design failure.
Hospitals are confusing. Visitors are disoriented. Families are often sleep-deprived and emotionally drained. And yet we often still treat signage like a last-minute afterthought. If you’ve ever tried to find a chapel, a cafeteria, or the nearest restroom without a sherpa, you know what we mean.
Improving signage and other design elements is one of the lowest-lift, highest-impact changes a facility can make. That includes:
- Clear, visible indicators to essential spaces like bathrooms, food, and places for quiet reflection
- Local resource guides for families from out of town (especially relevant for trauma centers, NICUs, transplant units, or any place where patients are transferred from far away)
- Maps that are not only intuitive, but readable by someone in distress (people have died looking for the Emergency Department)
This isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about reducing stress and friction in the patient and family journey. A map that’s legible, posted in the right places, and supplemented with real human support can do more for patient satisfaction than your latest lobby renovation with inspirational wall art (too harsh?).
2. Sit down. Literally.
Here’s an evidence-backed trick that costs nothing and dramatically improves perceived empathy: sit at the bedside. Study after study has shown that patients feel like the clinician spends more time with them when they sit down, even when the visit length is exactly the same. It’s human nature. Sitting signals presence. It signals you’re not trying to bolt after the next blood pressure reading or charting task.
While we’re at it, let’s put our direct contact info on the whiteboard in the room. Not a generic number. Not the front desk. A real name and number, written by hand, that says: “You can reach me.” It’s amazing how such a small gesture can build trust.
These small touches convey something that press releases and patient-centered pledges often fail to deliver: actual presence and accessibility.
3. Feed the family
All hospitals offer meal delivery to patients’ rooms. Yay! But too often, we forget about the family members at the bedside.
Let’s be blunt: family caregivers are unpaid, overworked, and sometimes the only reason a patient eats, bathes, or takes their meds. They’re your second shift. So why are we making it hard for them to eat?
Some hospitals offer in-room dining for family members, for a nominal fee, but bury that information in the fine print. Or worse, they forget to mention it at all. If you’re going to offer the service, tell people. Make it visible. Put it on the meal tray. Post it on the whiteboard. Mention it during rounds.
And while we’re at it, how about letting them order food at the same time the patient does, rather than making them wait for the next delivery window?
This isn’t just a nice-to-have. Nutrition, stress, and family engagement are all linked to better patient outcomes. Treating family caregivers like valued team members instead of afterthoughts is a design decision. Let’s make the right one.
4. The waiting room time warp
We’ve all seen it: a family member in the waiting room during surgery, afraid to leave to grab a coffee or use the restroom for fear they’ll miss the surgeon. The attendant shrugs. “If you’re not here, they’ll just move on.” This isn’t a systems failure; it’s a failure of basic decency.
Every surgical waiting room should have a posted protocol. Will the surgeon come out? Will they call? Can a nurse relay the update if the family steps out? This isn’t rocket science; it’s logistics and empathy.
A laminated card, a verbal explanation, or even a digital board with expected wait times (as done in many ERs) can transform an anxiety-ridden experience into something more humane.
5. Dignity is not optional
Let’s talk about transporting patients in gowns through public spaces. If your hospital routinely wheels visibly ill, minimally clothed patients through visitor elevators when a service/staff elevator is just across the hall, you’re not prioritizing dignity; you’re prioritizing convenience.
Patient transport needs to be dignified, private, and planned. Yes, it takes a few extra minutes. But those minutes are the difference between preserving someone’s sense of self and reducing them to an object in a hallway. Your mission statement talks about respect. Your elevator policy should reflect it.
Why this doesn’t happen
If all of this is so simple, why don’t we do it? Because we’ve sometimes turned healthcare into a factory. And factories value efficiency over empathy.
But here’s the secret: these simple acts of care are efficient. They prevent confusion. They reduce call lights. They cut down on complaints. They improve compliance. And they build the kind of trust that leads to better outcomes and better business.
The real ROI
None of this requires a new vendor, a new implementation, or a task force. What it does require is the will to prioritize the human experience over convenience, inertia, or “that’s just how we’ve always done it.”
We’re not asking hospitals to be spas. We’re asking them to serve people. Because they do.
Better signage. Sitting down. Family meals. Transparent wait expectations. Covered transports. These are not “nice to haves.” They are the baseline. And if you get the baseline right, everything else – safety, trust, outcomes – gets easier.
So go ahead. Show them the map. Sit for a minute. Offer a meal. Cover a patient. This is what healing is supposed to feel like.