Photograph by George Sakkestad
He's a little short on personality, but the robot that roams the halls at Columbia Good Samaritan Hospital is a hard worker, putting in 12 hours daily and asking only a one-hour battery recharge in return.
By Bob Aldrich
Sam was feeling his old self again.
After a touch of electronic flu, Sam was back at his job at Columbia Good Samaritan Hospital, delivering drugs from the pharmacy to nurses, carrying lab materials, medical charts and dietary trays to the recovery room and other departments.
Some employees just call him "the robot." Some refer to the mechanical marvel as "it," others as "he." Some doctors call him "the drug-runner." Sam seemed like the right name to this writer. Officially he's a Helpmate, manufactured by an East Coast firm, and he runs on batteries. He's being rented at $5 an hour.
Sam knows when to turn a corner in the hospital's long corridors. He waits for an elevator, making sure no one is on it before he opens the doors and goes in. A sign on Sam reads, "Please do not enter elevator with robot."
It's not that Sam isn't courteous to fellow passengers. "We just don't want any accidents," says Wayne Adachi, the hospital's pharmacy manager. "People will squeeze in as the doors are shutting."
How does Sam know if there's anyone in the elevator? "Sensors let him know if someone is pushing buttons inside," Adachi said.
Weighing 600 pounds, Sam doesn't leave much room for others in an elevator.
Propelled by his two large batteries, Sam moves along at walking speed. His sensors let him know if something is in his path. If someone is in the way, he pauses politely. If there are obstacles like a couple of beds in the corridor, he moves around them without altering speed.
He talks. "I am about to move; stand clear," he says in a firm but polite voice. Or: "I am about to enter the elevator." When he delivers his cargo, he announces: "Unloading."
A door opened in Sam's midriff reveals shelves with colored trays labeled for various departments. When he arrives at the designated station, a nurse presses secret code buttons and takes out the proper tray.
"He works 12 hours a day," said Adachi. "We give him an hour lunch break to restore his batteries."
The robot has to be located under an overhead ceiling light, indicating the spot to begin his route. There are no tracks or wires. A computer inside the robot has been set to control his movements. It takes him to the next turn, and the next, then to the elevator.
A computer screen at the robot's "head" reads: (1) Delivery; (2) one-way trip; (3) one-way with stops and (4) round trip. Adachi pushes another button, and the screen shows a list of destinations, such as the recovery room.
If his route weren't properly aligned on the computer, Adachi said, the robot would turn wrong and run into a wall.
"It's very reliable," Adachi said. "It never asks for a raise, and it gets no benefits."
The Stanford Hospital also has a delivery robot, he said.
This article appeared in the Saratoga News, December 11, 1996.
©1996 Metro Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved