Damage Control

Every successful manufacturing company has people whose job it is to check on the quality of the finished product.  They might be called Quality Control Inspectors.  They are to make sure that what leaves the factory is up to standard, worthy of the manufacturers name and reputation.  It's a big responsibility.  In our litigious society, one slip-up could cost the manufacturer millions of dollars, and the cost of the inspector's job.

The temptation, of course, is for everyone to blame everyone else for what goes wrong, both in manufacturing and in life.  When one is attacked by criticism of any sort, the natural temptation is to respond self-defensively.  I have a great deal of respect for companies--and people--who respond, instead, by taking responsibility and vowing to right the wrongs.

Consider the poor delivery nurse attending to my daughter's last pregnancy.  She had been in labor for awhile, but the doctor decided to hurry things along by inducing stronger contractions with pitocin.     Although Meg had already had one child with inducement but no real anesthesia, she was calling for pain relief, telling me, "This time is different, Mom".  Her husband and I were asked to leave the room for about 45 minutes while the technician administered an epidural.  We went to find fast food. When we came back, we were expecting to find a pain-free mother preparing for delivery.  Instead, we saw nurses and doctors rushing around in a near panic, and Meg ready to deliver.  Her first words to me were, "They tried to kill me."  It seems that the delivery nurse had "spiked" the pitocin directly into Meg's bloodstream instead of putting it through a device that would regulate the amount and speed of the drip.  In short, her uterus was in one big long contraction without any breaks at all.  When this was discovered, Meg was given a shot to counteract the pitocin.  The nurse was in tears, admitting her mistake.  The doctor had been called to get this child delivered before anything else could go wrong. This all happened within minutes.  Thank God, baby Ryan was born without incident, healthy as can be.  Meg recovered normally.  Not sure what, if anything happened to the nurse.

Frankly, I was a bit surprised that the nurse had admitted her mistake to her patient.  I would think that fear of a law suit would prevent that from happening.  The potential of the situation was that Meg's uterus could have ruptured.  But it didn't.  The only real harm (that we know of) is that she probably experienced more intense pain than she needed to.  What had started out as quality control, with everyone doing everything that is expected and normal, soon turned to damage control, trying to fix what had gone wrong.  The nurse felt bad.  I mean, accidents DO happen.  But still...

I could write on and on with examples of this sort of thing, especially since I experienced a need for damage control in my own life this week.  Who was at fault?  ME!!  I caused the damage, and I had to mop up after myself.  My dear sister's husband was hospitalized with multiple health problems.  Because of his dementia, she had to be with him 24/7.  I got on Facebook in an attempt to be supportive, saying that she was weary of the whole thing...and then I tacked on the sentence:  "Notice to family:  Step up to the plate".  I meant no criticism.  Her children and grandchildren had been attentive in the hospital, but there were things that needed to be done at home in her absence.  I was hoping they would show up to mow or clean or take care of things.  (One daughter actually was taking care of the family dog, so no worries there.)

Suddenly, my comment took on a life of its own.  Both of my nieces and my sister's granddaughter lambasted me.  They had been at the hospital with her.  They had offered for her to take breaks.  They didn't appreciate my criticism.  I tried to defend my intentions but soon came to realize that anything I said was only going to make the drama worse.  When I went back to look at what I had written, I could see why they felt accused.  (It didn't help that a friend of my sister's was throwing in some unwelcome comments.)  Mea culpa.  Mea maxima culpa.  (My fault.  My BIG fault.)  So...what to do by way of damage control?

The first thing I did was to write an email to my sister, apologizing for the firestorm that I had created which most likely contributed to her stress.  The second thing I did was delete the whole conversation thread on Facebook.  The third had to do with trying to decide how to apologize to those I had offended.  Putting it on FB to reach the whole tribe would only put things "out there" publicly to create more drama.  I decided that I needed to apologize by phone, but since the only phone number I have is my sister's (where one of my nieces lives), I called there.  She seemed to take my apology well.  However, since there is some animosity between the nieces, just the fact that I talked to one and not the other will probably be a source of consternation.  (Laurie, if you are reading this, please understand that I don't have your phone number or I would have called you, too!)

The hardest thing for me to accept in Damage Control Mode, is that I know better.  I am a communicator.  I know how the written word can be misinterpreted.  I know how drama-attracted my family can be.  I know that, in my old age, I tend to speak the truth as I know it rather than the truth that others experience.  I know my own intentions; others don't.  That doesn't mean that I am right and they are wrong.  It only means that I'm still a work in progress, even at my ripe old age.

It's not too late to teach an old dog new tricks.  Every day is a humbling experience as I come to realize that the rest of the world doesn't necessarily want to hear what I have to say.  And that's why I write this blog!!  I'm not taking the family mistakes on myself, but I do know that when I'm wrong, I'm wrong and will take responsibility for it.  It's so much easier to do quality control than damage control.  That's my lesson for the week.  Prevention is so much better than the aftermath of screwing up!