A frenulous adventure

Sam was tongue tied (his frenulum linguae, the vertical flap of skin under his tongue, was too tight), and he's old enough to kick, so this morning we woke up at 5:00 and took him down to UPMC Children's Hospital to have his frenulum snipped. Some facts:

Total Time from Car to Car: 2 hrs., 15 mins.
Total Number of Rooms: 6
Total Number of People: 18+

I am thankful for UPMC Children's Hospital. It's a giant crazy system and so you go in knowing that. But I was overwhelmed at how many people it took to snip a frenulum. Here, in order, are the people that formally represented UPMC Children's Hospital to us in the course of 2.25 hours:

1. Anonymous Parking-lot Attendant (directed us to the right garage)
2. Anonymous Sign-in Lady #1
3. Anonymous Sign-in Lady #2
4. Denise (nurse that took us back to the exam room)
5. Jeff (Patient Care Technician [PCT], took Sam's vitals)
6. Kathy (Nurse Practioner [NP], prepped us for his anesthesia)
7. Fr. John (our priest, not employed by UPMC of course but definitely playing a role in the system)
8. Donnalee (Registered Nurse [NP], reviewed Sam's medical history; answered lots of annoying questions from me about her wheely computer cart—"Is it like whoever gets here first gets the best cart?" Her mouse kept falling off.)
9. Heather (Patient Support Assistant [PSA]—escorted us upstairs)
10. Cindy (maitre'd at the PCU; don't know what it stands for but the PCU is the operation room holding area for first-time surgery patients)
    
11. Christina (PCU nurse that told us what to do and whisked us away while they carried Sam screaming to the operating room)
    
12. Dr. Mohammed (anesthesiology resident)
13. Dr. Roosen (anesthesiologist)
14. Dr. Anonymous (other anesthesiology resident)
15. Dr. Felder (the guy doing the operation; pediatric otolaryngologist [infant ear/nose/throat doc])
16. Carol (waiting room nurse)
17. Amy (PCT, escorted us to the exit after Sam was done)
18. Donna (parking cashier)
    

Wow! That's 7.5 minutes per person, not counting all of the other people in the operating room that Jess and I didn't meet (they wouldn't let me back there). Actually snipping the frenulum took under 5 seconds.

Being manhandled through giant machines can really suck. For me, understanding how abstractions work does a few things:

• It relieves anxiety.
• It empowers me to ask questions and "push back" when needed.
• It turns the experience into one of overwhelming fascination.
  

I am fascinated at the complexity of the system—and it actually more or less works!—but also at the human moments along the way. Example: of all the people in the PCU, Dr. Felder, a practicing Jew, singled out Dr. Mohammed for a cordial handshake and greeting. My dad's comment: "Maybe they play bluegrass together." :^)

And as complex as the system is when you're inside it, even it is just a single opaque item—"UPMC"—when looking at the larger systems it itself fits into:

• UPMC is the largest employer in Western PA.
• UPMC is #13 in the US News rankings.
• UPMC is the "dominant relationship" in a man's life.

The tension is that, because abstraction by definition means trading individuality at lower levels for efficiency at higher levels, I'm not sure whether you can ever have the benefits of abstraction without its drawbacks. A higher standard of living requires impersonal beast systems. I think. Maybe. No?

And if I'm right about abstractions, then the question to ask is not primarily, "How can we replace beast systems with human systems?" but more like, "How can we reimplement lower-level, raw, more-human systems as layers on top of impersonal beast systems?" Eh? Feed back to Chad Whitacre.