Small things matter

I work as a psychologist, by myself. It's just me, and Carrie, my office staff of one. I see a lot of people, for evaluations, one time only. There are some people I talk to more often, a few lawyers who send me cases, and the counselors who work at the Division of Vocational Rehabilitation (DVR). Each month, I travel once or twice to four DVR offices: Mt. Holly, Thorofare, Bridgeton and Camden. We have cordial, but somewhat formal relationships. I'm Dr. Goldberg, not Ken, to everyone there.

Last week, Carrie and I made a mistake, and I got scheduled at two of these offices, Camden and Thorofare, on the same day. I was sitting in my Haddon Heights office expecting to leave shortly for Thorofare when Liz, a Camden counselor, called to find out where I was. She had a client wanting, the first of many appointments scheduled for the day. There was no solution, and I scrambled to work things out. We called Thorofare and told them I would get there late. I rushed to Camden to see the person who was there, and a few more, until the others who were scheduled later in the day, could be called and given different dates.

It all worked out. But what surprised me was the reactions from the Camden staff when I arrived. No one expressed disappointment, only concern and relief that I was okay. They knew I was having surgery, and were extremely concerned for my health.

Today, I was back in Camden, for the last time before the operation. I felt such warmth. No hugs; the relationships are too formal. Yet, I was approached by many people, asking how I felt, wishing me good luck, shaking my hand in an extra warm way. These people are not my family, or members of my church. I don't expect that level of concern. I was truly touched.