Mission Accomplished - Or Is It?

So, I did a thing. I got my hip replaced on Wednesday, August 8th. While I had lengthy discussions about it with family and friends, and I alerted my clients, I debated going public with it. Would people think I was weak and old? Silly of me. I am old, and I'm doing this so I won't be weak. And the more people I spoke with, the more they told me of their own joint journeys. Whether it’s arthroscopic or replacements, I was shocked at how many people I know are out there walking around with repaired or replaced body parts. Aren’t we lucky to live in a time when modern medicine can not only extend our lives but also dramatically improve our quality of life?

Needless to say, I have had a lot of time to think over the last week. And as someone who has not had major surgery since the 80s, I am not an experienced patient. I am, however, an experienced caregiver. My husband has had 10 surgeries since I have known him: multiple arthroscopies, a new knee, a new shoulder, and neck surgery. But observing and experiencing are two radically different things.

Anticipating for them.

I was the first out of the gate. 5:00 am arrival, 7:00 am surgery. I liked that, but then I started questioning, ‘would they be tired?’ and ‘had they had their coffee?’ After overthinking it, I determined the first slot was definitely the best.

I chatted with my doctor about what to expect; he is usually quite fun, but he was all business that day. Then the anesthesiologist stopped by and gave me the lowdown on what he was going to do. It would be a spinal block plus general anesthesia—cool, double protection.

Everything progressed on time and as expected. I started coming to around 10:15 am. I opened my eyes, and a nurse was standing there staring at me from behind her rolling table and piles of papers. She said, “Can you move your feet?” I said “No”. She said, “Don’t worry, give it a minute.” I don’t know how long she had been standing there staring at me, but it was strategic. Even though I knew I had a spinal block, in the haze of anesthesia, they know not being able to move your legs would freak anyone out. She stood there staring at me and talking to me until I could.

This made me think. We know where the stress points are in a relocation. They may vary slightly from family to family, but we generally know. The day the actual relocation kicks in, when they start hearing from suppliers, the day household goods are picked up and delivered, the day their property closes escrow. We know those are stressful days. What are we doing to alleviate the stress? It comes down to making each move more personal. Actually, ask them what they are worried about and how we can help them through it.

Just because they don’t answer our call, email, or text doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate us reaching out. We need to continue to reach out when we know there may be pain points, offering solutions and resources, or just a sympathetic ear.

We are the experts.

When I was in recovery, the anesthesiologist stopped by. He asked me two questions: “Did I feel anything, and did I remember anything?” I said, “No,”. He smiled and said, “Mission accomplished.”

This man has trained for and practiced his craft for years. His role is simple when you break it down. Ensure I don’t die because of the anesthesia, ensure I don’t feel anything, and ensure I don’t remember anything.

When it comes down to it, our role for the transferee is pretty simple, too. Ensure the family and their belongings get from point A to point B, and help them find a home in a community they love, facilitate, and provide them with all the necessary resources along the way to make the above happen, so the transferee can get on the job.

I’m not making light of the role we play in this process. We support not only the transferee and their family, but also deliver outstanding service and compliance to the corporation and the relocation companies. We also integrate with the other providers to ensure we all work together as a team. By supporting the hiring and recruiting efforts of corporations, we effectively support the economy. But if we take a minute to oversimplify it, our job is to support the transferee ultimately.

Just because it’s done, doesn’t mean it’s done.

My doctor's office called me two days in a row to just check in on me after the surgery. They ensured the in-home PT was set up, the follow-up appointment was set, and the exercise bike was delivered for me. Now the real work begins for me. Physical therapy that I know won’t be so fun—and relearning to walk correctly.

And maybe the real work should begin for us after we settle in a family. Just because we got our money and paid the referral fee, is the Mission Accomplished? Besides possibly sending an impersonal survey, are we following up to see that they have everything they need? The last thing we want them to feel is that we are done once we get our money.

We know agents are notoriously terrible at following up with their clients, so why are we leaving it to them? Call a week and a month after the move date. A personal call or note on their move anniversary might be just the thing that reminds them of their great move. It doesn’t take but a minute to show some personalized kindness.

Btw, I'm still on pain meds, so if none of this makes sense, please disregard.

To leave you with a funny…

When I was coming out of anesthesia and still quite loopy, one of the doctors from the practice walked by. I said to the nurse, “All of the doctors in this practice are so handsome.” She said, “Yep, we hear that a lot. But honestly, I think it is because they wear scrubs; there is just something about that.” Then she said, “Honestly, if you see them out in the wild in their street clothes, they are only slightly above average.”