As a kid, I remember all the excitement leading up to a big thanksgiving dinner one November afternoon. In preparation for a huge extended family reunion, my mother was cooking the biggest feast you've ever seen. She was frantic with all the details and wanted me to help. I don't remember everything about that day, but I do remember that my mom asked me to help set the table. At that moment, getting the table set was the most important thing in her life. After all, you can't eat until the table's set.

It's interesting how fast things can change. After one quick phone call, setting the table became an afterthought. The call informed my mother that her cousin, her cousin's spouse and their two children, who were traveling to our house for the reunion, were in an automobile accident. The parents had been killed and the two young boys were in the hospital. Suddenly, our priorities for that whole weekend shifted from plates and silverware to making sure that two newly orphaned toddlers received the care they deserved.

I guess that's why it's interesting to me that when you ask just about anybody in this country what they think of when they hear the word "Healthcare," the most common response relates to policies, politics, government programs or "big industry." Somehow, in our hustle and bustle to "fix healthcare," we've forgotten that healthcare is personal. "Health-care" refers to the care or treatment given to an individual (one person) in a time of need. Generally speaking, the urgency of that need, determines the priority (not necessarily the quality) of the care given. And for that individual and the family and friends of that individual, healthcare is not only personal, it's emotional and it's traumatic.

Recently, as I was sitting in the ICU after my daughter's extensive jaw surgery, the only thing I cared about at that moment was making sure that my little girl received quality care. I didn't care about eating, sleeping or drinking . . . much less about how changes in our healthcare system were going to affect me, or her, in the next 4-8 years. Of course, setting the table didn't become a priority again for another 7 weeks . . . which was the amount of recovery time needed before my little girl could eat again.

So, next time someone asks you about Healthcare in America, think about your own healthcare stories, both past and present. Then think about the very personal nature of those stories. As you consider your own healthcare experiences and the experiences of your family, friends or loved ones, you may find that the healthcare issues you thought were important, were really only place settings.

Sorry, I've got to go . . . my phone's ringing.