Over the past week and a half, I’ve spent countless hours sitting beside my grandfather’s hospital bed at Good Samaritan Hospital in Baltimore. I wish I could say he was receiving compassionate, timely and attentive care. But the truth is, he hasn’t. And that was heartbreaking.

Time and again, I’ve watched him press the call button and wait endlessly for help to use the bathroom, to get clean or simply to receive a cup of water. I’ve witnessed his dinner order not arrive, and the staff casually tell him there’s “nothing that can be done” because the kitchen had closed, even though he put the request in well before the deadline. I’ve watched his IVs sit unchanged for hours and medications delayed far beyond what’s safe. And I can’t help but ask: If this is how he’s treated when I’m in the

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