A while ago I had to go to the hospital for observation for two nights, but two nights felt like an eternity to my seven-year-old son. It was a difficult time full of uncertainty for me too, you want to have your family as close to you as possible during that time. The weekend before my admission, my son had made a drawing for me; it was on the little table next to my bed. During the doctors' rounds, the professor briefly grabbed the drawing and said, "what an artist who made this." "Did your little son make this?" It really made me happy. For a moment I felt that I was being looked at in a different way: as an individual, as a mom, and not merely a patient. A comment that has always stayed with me, and colored my admission positively