CULTURE BEAT: "HOSPITAL" Takes Us Inside Culturally Complex Brooklyn Hospital
Picture an urban hospital where 67 languages are spoken, the Chinese food is glatt kosher, and the most exotic ethnic species is a blond Nebraskan surfer named Davey doing his medical residency in the E.R. Welcome to Maimonides Medical Center, in Borough Park, Brooklyn.
In HOSPITAL: Man Woman Birth Death Infinity Plus Red Tape Bad Behavior Money God and Diversity on Steroids author Julie Salamon gives rare insight into one year in the life of a large, complex, urban hospital (Read Jackie Judd's interview with Salamon about her new book here). In 2003, Maimonides admitted 38,667 patients, 127,319 were seen in its outpatient clinics, and 81,190 passed through the Emergency Department. More than 6,000 babies were born; more than 1,000 people died.
Julie (we overlapped on a health reporting fellowship last year, although I knew her writing before I knew her) is a cultural critic, not a policy wonk. The narrative she tells is more about the drama and feuds and loves and losses and financial fights and towering egos of doctors, administrators and even the cleaning crews than it is about health policy. In fact, we only meet a handful of patients (most of those she focuses on were poor and dying, depending on the hospital to meet many needs beyond medical care). But she had astonishing access to the people who somehow or other—despite the shockingly abundant "bad behavior"—cared enough not only to keep serving their multiethnic community but to keep trying to do a better job:
Depending on the day or night, life in the hospital could seem full of exquisite promise or pointless despair. The system was tainted by callous disregard for decent and equitable care, by money lust, by corporate influence and by lack of political will. But a great many people who were part of the system wanted something better. Yes individual doctors and nurses behaved badly, sometimes inexcusably so. Clerks were rude to patients and to each other. People made mistakes. Yet I was constantly struck by the sense of urgency that accompanied desires for fairness, for compassionate medicine, for efficiency, for meaning—and yes, for cleaner rooms.
It's an easy read and a rich story.


