Ciara Ferrier

**“Small Vehicle Racism” = borrowing and adapting the comedic expression “Small Person Racist” with which the socially inept Roy is labelled in The IT Crowd episode The Internet is Coming.**

Today I had an appointment for follow-up treatment at my local hospital. Hospital parking is, I suspect, hospital parking wherever you are in the UK. Acknowledging that arriving by public transport where possible is the ideal, my experience is that public transport from where I live is not the most reliable and not always appropriate.

We just acquired a second car, a black Hyundai i10, affectionately known as “The Blackbird.” I drove Blackbird to the multi-storey car park, leaving myself 1-hour leeway before my appointment – I know, not everyone has the luxury of being able to do this but arriving early saves so much stress.

The Parking Gods were on my side and I found a tight space on the second floor. The space was perfect for Blackbird, which is small and narrow. I reversed almost in one go, albeit tightly against a pillar on the driver’s side. Before I could even think whether I would wait or come forwards and realign myself again, an angry woman in a large SUV practically drove over me, shouting at me through her window.

I’m not sure if this is completely hospital parking related. Would she have behaved the same had I been driving my larger family car? Since my sons have been driving and I have been either passenger or driving instructor, I have experienced drivers behaving more aggressively whilst in Blackbird than when I am in a similar sized vehicle. Can we say it’s not hospital parking; it’s just small vehicle racism? Or is it hospital parking meets small vehicle racism?!

For a short while, this really threw me. This woman was SO angry! In a hospital car park, can we accept that everyone is there because they are dealing with their own stuff? Either they are a patient themselves, driving a loved one to an appointment or visiting a loved one as an in-patient. Circumstances may be routine but they may also be emergencies, the details of which I can’t even imagine.

I’m at a point in my life where I’m able to just feel thankful I could drive myself there. I hope that lady is okay. There is no point dwelling on times when I couldn’t drive myself, or was less far on in recovery, or reflecting that I couldn’t have driven Blackbird at one point in my own journey because it has a manual handbrake and I wouldn’t have had the strength to apply it, being an unsafe driver as a result. It would have been more upsetting at one time but I recognise that, in a hospital car park, emotions run high for everyone.

Being any kind of patient brings enough baggage with it. You may be reading this and rightly congratulating yourself on providing excellent person-centred care within your consulting room but the patient journey starts before then and continues afterwards. The hospital car park is not your problem. However, patient experience is not just about you. It’s the receptionist who remembered my name, the people who maintain the signage so I know where I’m going, your nurse who followed up after my appointment and it’s even the barista who gave me a little longer to place my drinks order when I was a bit flummoxed after the car park incident.

In terms of administration, it’s making it easy for people to be referred to you or to contact you for an appointment, managing expectations over waiting times, sending prompt communication after an appointment and following up on it, and so on.

A good patient experience is the whole journey.

We maybe can’t fix the hospital car park or drivers who behave aggressively to small vehicles in general, but we can add value to the patient experience by removing other obstacles so that the car park is the only gauntlet they will run on their way to see you.

If you noted a timeline of your patients’ journey, from point of contact to discharge, where could you identify bumps in the road?