“Nobody could build this today. That’s why it’s an asset to the state of Alabama, a fabulous asset,” says Bill Heburn, CEO of Trinity Medical Center, as he begins the tour of the Digital Hospital. Trinity is currently vying for a Certificate of Need (CON) to allow them to move into the building.

 

The million-square-foot, reflective, convex building sits atop a hill hovering over the jam-packed thoroughfare of Highway 280. On the outside, it resembles a typical modernistic office building. On the inside lies all the versatility, warmth, and forethought that brought the descriptive “digital” to its name.

 

“In 2000, when the building was designed, you were either ‘digital’ or you were ‘analog’,” Heburn says. “At that time, it was marketed by HealthSouth as the Digital Hospital, meaning just ‘modern’.”

 

Begun in 2001, the hospital still holds the title, because of the planning put into the design and the quality of the construction. The deck between the ceiling and the floor above contains a largess of four feet of space, ready for any future needs in wiring, tubing, or conduits. Reinforced ceilings in the surgical suites will support equipment being adhered overhead rather than on the floor, cutting down on infection. And the ICU rooms have toilets hidden in the cabinets by the beds; all details that define the forethought put into the waiting hospital.

 

The footprint of the building allows for entire spaces to be temporarily walled off or opened as needed to adapt to changes in hospital trends, such as specialty departments, more outpatient areas, or the advent of large, complex equipment.

 

“This has all the ingredients to let it ebb and flow with everything that changes rapidly in healthcare. Whereas with a hospital from 50 years ago, you’d have to build something on, and then connect it with the utilities. Here, you don’t have those futuristic expenses,” Heburn says. Trinity plans on leaving a whole floor vacant initially.

 

“People have driven by this building for five years and think it’s an empty hull. It’s not,” Heburn says. Four patient floors and much of the ICU floor were completed when construction halted in 2003. Toilets flush, lights work, and even the pneumatic tubes and specialized sterile dumbwaiter for surgical equipment lay dormant, but ready.

 

Each patient floor, about an acre in size, will typically hold 50 private rooms. Immediately inside each room rests a small sink station where staff can wash. “Doctors don’t like to go in a patient’s bathroom,” Heburn says, pointing to the large bathroom, fully functioning even now, complete with roll-in shower and flip-down seat.

 

The architecture itself, dominated by curves, caters to esthetics and softens every aspect of the structure. “It was well thought out to make you feel good about where you are,” Heburn says. A wall curves inside each patient room. On the floors, contrasting tile forms semicircles to designate nursing stations, surround the bed in each room, and pinpoint other stationary areas, like the elevators. Overhead, soffits curve as they hide conduits running across the hallways.

 

The curve of the building itself hides the abruptness of the front hallway’s end. “So it’s softer. But you don’t see that, you feel it,” Heburn says. “This is architecture engineering to me. This is what makes the place unique.”

 

The same thought toward subliminal comfort appears in other aspects. In the hallways, light washes down one wall, while sconces illuminate the other, so there will be no disturbing flashes from overhead fluorescent panels for patients being wheeled on gurneys.

 

The construction embodies the same thoroughness of thought and quality. Solid, oversize doors with piano hinges lead into every room and bathroom, with caps on the ends to prevent chipping. The outside walls look to be about ten inches thick. “They did not skimp on anything: columns, concrete, space, decks. It’s one of a kind, and it’s in Birmingham, Alabama,” Heburn says.

 

Most hospitals that have been around a decade or so feel like endless corners and passageways with elevators hidden among the maze. “The most impressive aspect of this building is the way-finding. When you come in, you go up or down and either right or left, and it’s the same all the way up and down,” Heburn says.

 

With the extensive insulation and double-glazed windows, utility costs drop. Trinity currently foots the bill for heating and cooling the building. “I think it runs about $100,000 per month,” Heburn says. “Far less than what it is over at Trinity.”

 

Before Trinity posed an interest in the specialized building, Daniel Corporation, current owner of the property, was opting to demolish. “What a needless waste that would be,” Heburn says.

 

Should Trinity receive their certificate of need — which could easily take another year to achieve with all the legal wrangling and opposition — they expect to take 18 months to finish out the interior and open the doors. If the CON falls through, the Digital Hospital, and its potential to offer high-quality healthcare to Birmingham, will once again face demolition. “I wish everyone could have it, but everybody can’t,” Heburn says. “We have the money. We have the enthusiasm.”

Caption: ICU rooms offer a few additions not seen in area hospitals before. A toilet hides in a cabinet beside the bed and an observation window (to the right of the doors) allows staff to monitor and make notes on the small outside counter, complete with computer hookup, without disturbing the patient.