What value resulted from taking the time to personally deliver the letter?

As the CEO of the Children’s Hospital, I received a letter one day that stood out from all the rest. It was from the mother of a five-year-old boy who had recently passed away in our Pediatric Intensive Care Unit as a result of fatal injuries. He had been hit by a car while running across the street. The letter expressed her deep disappointment. She had been reluctant to agree to organ donation, but with encouragement from the attending intensivist, nurses, and a social worker, she had agreed to allow her son’s organs to be harvested so that others could benefit. She had been told that she would receive a letter letting her know specifically how the organs had been used to help other children in dire need. Her letter informed me, with great pain, that she had not received any letter. I tried to imagine the pain she was feeling, but it was so far beyond my experience.

I wondered how we could make this right. I called the regional organ bank, informed them of this failure, and requested the letter. I asked them to send it to me in a sealed envelope, so that I could personally deliver it to the mother. They sent me the letter, and when it came I called the mother to let her know I was on my way to her home to deliver it. It didn’t seem like enough, but all I really had to give in this delicate situation was my personal presence, and the respect for her pain that would be demonstrated by my coming to her home. It wasn’t so much that I was coming, but rather that the CEO of the hospital was coming.