Written for doctors, read by families.
Three quite different services — intensive care in a hospital, intensive care at home, and tele-consultation — described in clinical language on a single page. Families were trying to understand which one applied to them while standing in a corridor, panicking.
Contact detail sat below the fold. In distress nobody scrolls, and every extra tap was a chance to call somebody else instead.
One page per care setting, and one tap to a human.
Care split by setting
Hospital ICU, ICU at home and tele-consult each get their own page, so the reader picks a situation rather than decoding a service list.
No clinical vocabulary up front
Rewritten in the words a family actually uses, with the clinical detail available but never the first thing on screen.
Persistent one-tap contact
Call and consult request reachable from anywhere on any screen, without scrolling.
Fast on weak signal
Built light, because it is opened inside hospital buildings on poor connections.
Two calls that shaped the build.
We removed most of the credentials
Qualifications matter, but leading with them answers a question nobody in distress is asking. They moved to a page of their own and the home page answered "who do I call, and when".
No booking form for urgent care
We advised against an appointment widget on the critical-care paths. A form implies a wait; a phone number implies a person. Booking stayed where it genuinely helps.
A complicated service, understood in a corridor.
- Families identify the right care setting themselves, before the first call.
- Contacting the practice takes one tap from any page, on any device.
- Calls start with the situation rather than an explanation of the service.
Client-reported outcomes, described qualitatively — we publish numbers only where the client has agreed to them.
