Thank you “notes” 

By Kendall Moseley, MD, Johns Hopkins Medicine

Growing up, my mother was fairly laid-back by most standards. We sometimes got dessert even if we didn’t finish our vegetables. The whites didn’t have to be separated from the colors when we did laundry. We were granted a few extra minutes before bedtime to watch the last bit of our favorite program or sports game (even on a school night). I think we even had the “cool mom” on the block?

Holidays and special events were the exception to the rule. Every gift received necessitated a thank you note. Period.

I remember my mother poised by our sides as we tore through birthday gifts, trinkets from relatives’ travels, the ribbons and paper flying underneath twinkling holiday lights. She sat with a pen and a pad of paper, cursive flowing, to document to whom we would be writing thank you notes by the end of the week.

Tedious at the time, I have come to appreciate the art and necessity of the thank you note. A gift is rarely given in a flippant manner. There’s care and time put into the act of selecting that special something that we hope brings a smile to the recipient’s face. There’s attention given to an item that might make a sad day brighter or rescue someone from the dregs of frustration.  And gifts don’t have to be material. A compassionate word or warm hug can often convey more than a brightly wrapped package ever could. These gifts are meaningful, and it’s out of respect for these small or grand acts of kindness that the giver should be given something in exchange: thank you.

In medicine, there are endless opportunities to give, and even more opportunities to give thanks. We thank our patients for sharing their life’s celebrations and disappointments with us, trusting us as they would a dear friend with feelings spanning from joy to fear. We thank our learners for taking the extra step of calling a family member for more information on a hospitalized patient, or for asking questions that keep us forever learning. We thank the clinic staff for keeping the hectic day on the rails, the janitorial team for keeping us safe by attending to messes that we would rather ignore. We thank our colleagues for offering expert advice on a complex patient or even a personal problem.

Shouldn’t these thanks be reflexive by now? These are lessons we learn as children, no?  One would hope, but the days are busier and our lives more complicated by personal, professional and global noise. The thank you has become elusive, disappearing before making it to keystrokes, the tip of the tongue, or even the archaic pen and paper. The words are easy to say, but it sometimes feels hard to take the time in the swirling, busy days.

It’s important that we not lose sight of the childhood lessons (browbeating?) that go beyond simple etiquette and now reside in important components of professionalism and—most critically—community. A thank you helps to motivate all of us through the nuances of the lives we lead and share with others—gifts received and given. And in these trying times, perhaps these two words matter more than ever.

With two children of my own now, I am most definitely not the “cool mom” on the block. I am, however, forever seated at my sons’ sides (pen and paper in hand) in the gift-opening frenzy, reminding them of their notes due at the end of the week. I hope this lesson stays with them as it has with me. Thank you, Mom.

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This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.