Patient Relationship Management (PRM)

Have I mentioned I am an unapologetically type A person, for the most part an off the chart Meyers Briggs INTJ? This morning I awoke feeling no more querulous than usual—that would change rather abruptly. In general, I make it a rule never to learn anything before having my first cup of coffee. Unfortunately, today wasn’t going to be one of those days. In fact, my mood was a direct result of the instrument pictured above.

These days I am using that to make my coffee as my normal espresso maker’s LED screen is displaying a message telling me my grinder is blocked—sounds a little like something two tablespoons of Pepto should be able to fix, doesn’t it? Google was not help—three hits, each instructing me to send it back to the dealer for a $350 repair. Sounds more like a response you’d get regarding a car, not a coffee maker.

I brought this pot home from my work in Madrid. It works using the same principles as a pressure cooker. Water is placed in the bottom; an espresso grind goes above the water.Steam is forced through the grind, past a metal sieve, and into the container where as it cools it is reconstituted as a liquid—coffee. Anyway, as my coffee is cooking, I notice the metal sieve sitting on the counter. It seemed like too much work to turn it off, rinse the pot, regrind the coffee, and wait the additional five minutes. I was too tired for a do-over.

Too bad for me. Now, I’m not sure if what happened next would be found under the topic of fluid mechanics, converting steam into thermal energy, or general explosives, but it would have made for an entertaining physics experiment. In what appeared to play out in slow motion like the Challenger explosion actually occurred in a fraction of a second. It seems that metal sieve does more than strain the grinds from the steam. It also prevents a thermonuclear reaction. Apparently when the pressure passes the fail-safe point, the reaction proceeds to the next logical step. That step, which I observed, involves coffee and grinds exiting the pot so rapidly that before I could blink they covered the walls, counters, and floors as far away as ten feet. (It was actually pretty impressive to watch.) I’ve been informed that once I finish writing I will be attending to the mess.

The scene reminded me of one of the forensic shows on cable. I halfway expected the medical examiner Henry Lee to walk through my door to examine the splatter pattern.

The choice I faced was to do it over, or deal with the consequences. I was in a hurry, consequences be damned—it turns out that it wasn’t the consequences that would be damned. My guess is that I’m looking at at least thirty minutes of cleanup work.

It pays to invest the time to do something right the first time. Sort of like dealing with patients. Let’s say a certain patient call takes nine minutes to handle correctly. As many of you have observed, there are two ways to go about this. You can do it over a period of several four minute calls because your people don’t want to get dinged for exceeding their handle time allotment, or you can allow the people to talk until the patient’s need is solved.

As patients, we know you prefer the first approach. The mere fact that patients have to listen to a recording telling us how important our call is makes us leery. I think everyone who is monitoring calls and call metrics needs to come over to my house for a cup of coffee and let the people do their jobs.

saint Paul M. Roemer
Chief Imaginist, Healthcare IT Strategy

1475 Luna Drive, Downingtown, PA 19335
+1 (484) 885-6942
paulroemer@healthcareitstrategy.com

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Are terrorists smarter than us?

Sri Lanka has been in a twenty-six year civil war with the Tamil Tigers. NPR reported the leader of the Tigers was killed. Within a day, the Tamil Tigers’ web site posted a blurb stating that the leader was not killed—a la Monty Python—“I’m not dead yet.”

I’ll be brief. The bad guys. These bad guys live in the jungles, others live in the Afghan mountains. As far as I’ve been able to ascertain, they don’t use Cisco servers, they don’t have a call center. There’s no marketing department, no financial analysts, no freshly minted MBAs walking the hallways telling them what to do.  They have established virtual nations.

Yet as primitive as these groups are, they know the value of rapidly employing social networking to their advantage. What amazes me is not that they do it, but that most people reading this don’t have a proactive policy and the resources required to effectively manage their social media.

saint Paul M. Roemer
Chief Imaginist, Healthcare IT Strategy

1475 Luna Drive, Downingtown, PA 19335
+1 (484) 885-6942
paulroemer@healthcareitstrategy.com

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The wildebeest postulate

The Kalahari; vast, silent, deadly. The end of the rainy season, the mid-day heat surpasses a hundred and twenty. One of the varieties of waterfowl, most notably the flame red flamingo that nested in the great salt pans in Botswana, has begun its annual migration. In the muck of one of the fresh-water pools that had almost completely evaporated, writhes a squirming black mass of underdeveloped tadpoles. A lone Baobab tree pokes skyward from the middle of the barren savanna. In its shade, standing shoulder to shoulder and facing out, a herd of wildebeest surveys the landscape for predators.  Sir David Attenborough and PBS can’t be far away.

Some things never change. I make my way across the freshly laid macadam to meet the school bus. Fifty feet in front of me is a young silver maple tree, the tips of its green leaves yielding only the slightest hint of the fall colors that are hidden deep within. The late afternoon sun casts a slender shadow across the sodded common area. One by one they come—soccer moms; big moms, little moms, moms who climb on rocks, fat moms, skinny moms, even moms with chicken pox—sorry, I couldn’t stop myself—as they will every day at this same time, seeking protection in its shade. My neighbors.  It’s only seventy-five today, yet they seek protection from the nonexistent heat, a habit born no doubt from bygone sweltering summer days. A ritual. An inability to change. In a few weeks the leaves will fall, yet they will remain in the shadow of what once was, standing shoulder to shoulder facing out, looking for the bus. A herd. Just like wildebeest.

The kids debus–I just made that word, hand me their backpacks, lunch boxes, and hundreds of forms for me to complete.  I look like a Sherpa making my way home from K-2.

I shared this perspective with the moms, and have halted most of my bleeding. I can state with some degree of certainty that they were not impressed with being compared to wildebeest. So here we go, buckle up. By now you’re thinking, “There must be a pony in here somewhere.”

Some things never change; it’s not for lack of interest, but for lack of a changer. For real change to occur someone needs to be the changer, otherwise it’s just a bunch of people standing shoulder to shoulder looking busy. How are you addressing the change that must occur for EHR to be of any value?  EHR is not about the EHR, it’s about moving from a 0.2 business model to 2.0.  Are you chasing ARRA incentive dollars simply because someone is writing a check?

Someone who sees the vision of what is is—sorry, too Clintonian—must lead.  Be change.

One of the great traits of wildebeest is that they are great followers.

saint Paul M. Roemer
Chief Imaginist, Healthcare IT Strategy

1475 Luna Drive, Downingtown, PA 19335
+1 (484) 885-6942
paulroemer@healthcareitstrategy.com

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Is this a fair representation of the hospital business model?

I have been looking for a way to represent pictorially the hospital business model and the forces which act upon it.  The picture below came to me last night while playing this board game with my daughter.  It is from the children’s game, Boobytrap.  The way the game is played is that the players try to remove the red, blue, and green pieces without causing the trap to spring and displace all of the pieces.

If we represent patients as the individual playing pieces and make the assumption that each side of the game exerts pressure on the model, I think it represents fairly the external forces with which the large provider model has to battle.  As the forces increase from some combination of costs, regulation, procedure price ceilings, and payor reimbursements, the number of patients in the model will decrease and may do so in a catastrophic manner.  Without a concurrent decrease in those four forces it is unlikely that the model will support additional patients.  Clearly, without changing the size of the board it is impossible to grow the number of patients beyond the board’s capacity.

A couple rules come into play.

  • The forces are all external.  They cannot be controlled or abated by the hospital.
  • The strengths of the various forces change over time
  • The forces result in some maximum number of patients which can be serviced under the hospital’s existing business model.
  • As each patient is lost, the stability of the model weakens.

Does this way of depicting the large provider business model ring true?  Does this help illustrate why the model must change?

saint Paul M. Roemer
Chief Imaginist, Healthcare IT Strategy

1475 Luna Drive, Downingtown, PA 19335
+1 (484) 885-6942
paulroemer@healthcareitstrategy.com

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Why hospitals are like airlines and movie theaters

I prefer to talk about events before they take place, not after. I don’t know if that makes me a futurist or merely someone not bright enough to understand them as they now are.  I like to have a think about things that don’t seem right.  This helps me understand what I may be missing, or if I may be on to something.

I got one of my “ah-ha” moments while driving to the airport yesterday; something I have done a few hundred times.  I could drive the route in my sleep.  I know of two ways to get there, so I really never thought about needing a third.  My bad.  One of the roads I take was flooded—the rain was so hard it appeared to be raining up.  After being stuck in traffic for twenty minutes,—route number two.  Five minutes later, the drenched man by the side of the road told me the bridge was out.

I found myself out of choices, poor planning on my part.  I came to a fork in the road and took it.  I still had a reasonable amount of time to make my flight.  Then I found myself driving behind a nun who was driving a Rambler.  Really.  We never hit thirty on the speedometer.  I would have missed the flight had it not been delayed.

It occurred to me as I was stopped that I had failed to heed my own advice.  I was guilty of having no plan for what to do if things changed, guilty of having no options because, “I have always done things this way.”

I am speaking this afternoon about innovation and transformation for the large healthcare provider model (hospitals)—could take five minutes, could take an hour—we will have to see how many people brought tomatoes to throw.

The large provider business model is dying.  Play along with me for a minute.  How many different services and procedures are offered by the “average” hospital?   A couple thousand.  Some are performed hundreds of times each day, some on a somewhat regular basis, and some rarely.  Let’s focus on those done rarely.

The funny thing about having the ability to do something is you have to pay for the resources and technology whether you do it once or hundreds of times.  The less you do it, the larger the negative ROI.  Most large providers offer many services with negative ROIs.  How does one alter the business model to compensate for that?  Charge for parking; charge $7 for each Tylenol, outsource less profitable services.

It might be important to recognize that the reason many services—the ones most patients need—are marginally profitable is because those services are helping to fund the unprofitable services.

Sooner or later, hospitals cut loose the low-end services.  Others gobble them up, and make tremendous profits from offering them under a new business model.

I started thinking about other industries that operate under a similar business model.  The two I came up with are movie theaters and the large airlines—both which offer a service.  One of my early clients was the CFO of one of the country’s largest theaters.  They knew their costs down to the penny.  They lose money on every movie they show.  That is why they charge eight dollars for popcorn.  Their model is broken.  Are they changing it?  No.  Others changed it.  Blockbuster did.  Then their model broke.  Now we have NetFlixs.  They are making money without the popcorn.

Continental and United are merging.  Will that make things better?  Will they stop charging for bags?  Will they offer free meals?  More seat room?  Of course not.  Combined, they will lose even more money.  Their model is broken.  Are they changing it?  No.  What are they doing—buying even bigger planes.

You know who owns fifty-five percent of the flying market?  The pesky, disruptive regional carriers.  They make lots of money.  They have a different model, and they know their costs.

Disrupting the business model and changing the way you do something are not the same.  At some point there will be nothing left to change except for what you do.  Building a need for every sub-specialty offered by EPIC is not disruptive, it is dysfunctional.  Offering the same services as every other hospital within your coverage area is not disruptive, it is duplicative.  It simply divides the revenue pie for any given procedure into smaller slices.

Hospitals know their charges, not their costs.  They can’t pull a P&L per patient, or per procedure.  How can one price an Accountable Care model without knowing the costs?  An executive at a large children’s hospital told me they have to markup the costs of little things, like pills, two-hundred and fifty percent.  Unless hospitals are prepared to disrupt their business model, they had better buy a lot more pills.

saint Paul M. Roemer
Chief Imaginist, Healthcare IT Strategy

1475 Luna Drive, Downingtown, PA 19335
+1 (484) 885-6942
paulroemer@healthcareitstrategy.com

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How daughters relate to EHR

The other night as I’m sitting on a hard bleacher watching my seven-year-olds baseball practice I noticed the mom sitting next to me looking a little forlorn. Being naturally inquisitive, I asked if everything was okay.

“I lost his glove,” she replied.

Noticing a glove on her son’s hand, she saw my look of confusion. “Not his. My husband’s. I had it with me last Thursday, and I left it here.”

“I don’t suppose this was a new glove. Judging by the look on your face I’d say this was his favorite glove; thirty years old, supple, broken in, fold flat as a sheet of paper.”

“Twenty-five years,” she corrected as she lowered her eyes.

“It’s rained the last three days,” I told her, which caused her to grimace even more. Having nothing better to do, I flayed her emotions. “I bet that glove meant the world to him. He probably planned on giving it to your son in a few years. The glove probably reminds him of some of the big events in his life, every scar, each stain on the leather, points to something important. You know, if it was outside for a few days, the field mice will have chewed on the leather.”

She brushed away a tear, and headed to the lost and found.

“Any luck?” She shook her head in despair. “In some countries, if a wife does something life that, the husband can sever the relationship, literally,” I said as I made a slashing motion with my hand. She made the briefest of smiles. At least she knew I was pulling her lariat. Reeling her in, I continued.

“You’re not thinking of spending the night at home, are you? If you are, you should at least call someone and let them know of your plans. He’ll heal over time,” I told her. “But he won’t forget it. Twenty years from now the two of you will be watching something on TV, and something will remind him of the glove YOU lost.”

Fast forward to last night. My daughter and I are getting out of the car so I can coach her and her softball team in the playoff game.

“Is your glove in the trunk?” I asked. This is after I spent several minutes grilling her at home about whether she had everything she needed for her game.

“I hope so,” she said shamelessly as I popped the trunk for her. “You hope so?” I repeated with an edge in my voice.

“It’s not here Daddy.”

I left her with her friends and drove home to look for it. Ten minutes. Nothing. For some reason, I looked in the trunk. There it was. Death by 1,000 cuts.

Does it all come down to baseball gloves?  “I hope so.”  What kind of a response is that?

Will these EHR expenditures help? I hope so.

Can you confirm for me that user satisfaction won’t fall any further? I hope so.

Are we ready for the changes coming to the business model?  I hope so.

Do you think we should continue to employ you? I hope so.

Paul M. Roemer
Chief Imaginist, Healthcare IT Strategy

1475 Luna Drive, Downingtown, PA 19335
+1 (484) 885-6942

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The change keeps changing

Hello to those whom I’ve yet to meet.  This is rather long, so you may wish to grab a sandwich.

I write to share a few thoughts.  I reside in the small place where those who refuse to drink the Kool Aid reside. For those who haven’t been there, it’s where those who place principle over fees dare to tread.

Where to begin? How to build your provider executive team? (Those who wish to throw cabbages should move closer to their laptops so as not to be denied a decent launching point.)

I comment on behalf of those in the majority who have either not started or hopefully have not reached the EHR points of no return—those are points at which you realize that without a major infusion of dollars and additional time your project will not succeed. Those who have completed their implementation, I dare say for many no amount of team building will help. Without being intentionally Clintonian—well, maybe a little—I guess it depends on what your definition of completed is.

If I were staffing a healthcare organization, to be of the most value to the hospital, I’d staff to overcome whatever is lying in wait on the horizon, external influences—the implications of reform and Stages 2 and 3 of Meaningful Use, and a national roll out of EHR with no viable plan to get there.  Staffing only to execute today’s perceived demands will get people shot and will fail to meet the needs of hospital. To succeed we need to exercise an understanding of what is about to happen to healthcare and to build a staff to meet those implications.

Several CEOs have shared that they are at a total loss when it comes to understanding the healthcare implications of reform and IT.  They’ve also indicated—don’t yell at me for this—they don’t think their IT executives understand the business issues surrounding EHR and reform.  I somewhat disagree with that perspective.

Here’s a simplified version of the targets I think most of today’s hospital CIOs are trying to hit.

1. Certification
2. Meaningful use
3. Interoperability—perhaps
4. Budget
5. Timing
6. Vendor management
7. Training
8. User acceptance
9. Change management
10. Work flow improvement
11. Managing upwards

There are plenty of facts that could allow one to conclude that these targets have a Gossamer quality to them.  Here’s what I think. You don’t have to accept this, and you can argue this from a technology viewpoint—and you will win the argument. I recently started to raise the following ideas, and they seem to be finding purchase—I like that word, and since this is my piece, I used it.

Before we go there, may I share my reasoning? From a business perspective, many would say the business of healthcare must move from a 0.2 to a 2.0 business model. (This is not the same as the healthcare business—the clinical side.)  The carrot?  The ARRA incentives—an amount that for many providers will prove to be more of a rounding error than a substantive rebate.

Large healthcare providers are being asked to hit complex, undefined, and moving targets, and they are planning on adapting to reform and reforming their own business model while they implement systems which will change how everyone works.  Hospitals are making eight and nine figure purchase decisions based in part on solving business problems they have not articulated. If success is measured as being on-time, in-budget, and fully functional and accepted, for any project in excess of $10,000,000, the chances of failure are far greater than the chances of success.

Their overriding business driver seems to be that the government told them to do this. Providers are making purchasing decisions without defining their requirements. Some will spend more on an EHR system than they would to build a new hospital wing.  Many don’t know what the EHR should cost, yet they have a budget. Many don’t know if they need a blue one or a green one, if it comes in a box, or if they need to water it.

So, where would I staff to help ensure my success—this is sort of like Dr. Seuss’, “If I ran the Circus”—the one with Sneelock in the old vacant lot.  I’d staff with a heavy emphasis on the following subject matter experts:

• PMO
• Planning & Innovation
• Flexibility
• Change Management
• PR & Marketing

Contrary to popular belief, not all of these high-level people need to have great understanding of healthcare or IT. You probably already have enough medical and IT expertise to last a lifetime.

Here’s why I think this is important. Here’s what I believe will happen. Three to five years for now the government would like us to believe there will be a network of articulated EHRs with different standards, comprised of hundreds of vendor products, connected to hundred of RHIOs, and mapped to a N-HIN.  Under the proposed model, standardization will not occur if only for the fact that there is no monetary value to those vendors whose standards are not standard.

Interoperability, cost, and the lack of standardization will force a different solution—one which is portable.  I think the solution will have to be something along the lines of a single, national, open, browser-based EHR.  It will be driven by consumers.  Consumers will purchase the next generation of super-smart portable devices that offer a combination of iPad/iPhone functionality.

The Personal Health (PRH) will have evolved to become the EMR.  How is this possible?  What do smart devices do?  They do one thing, billions of times each day, and they do it perfectly—they send and receive ones and zeros.  That is what today’s EMR are—ones and zeroes.  Those next-gen devices will be EMR-capable.  Why?  Because there are more than a hundred million customers who will keep buying these devices.

The so-called N-HIN will be the new Super Internet—not some cobbled together network of RHIOs.

Firms like Apple, Google, and Microsoft will drive this change.  We already buy everything they offer, in fact, we line up at midnight to do so.  By then, those firms will care less about selling the devices than they will about transporting the ones and zeroes that comprise the data.  Their current PHRs are their way of introducing themselves to consumers as players in healthcare.

The point I am trying to drive home is that from being able to adapt to change and reform, lean towards staffing the unknown.  Staff with leaders, innovators, and people who can turn on a dime. Build your organization like turning on a dime is your number one requirement. Don’t waste time and money worrying about Certification or Meaningful Use. If anyone asks you why, you can blame me.

If you want a real reason, I have two. First, they won’t mean a thing five years from now. Second, if I am the person writing an incentive check, I want to know one and only one thing—will your system connect with the other system for which I am also writing a check?  That is the government’s home run.

saint Paul M. Roemer
Chief Imaginist, Healthcare IT Strategy

1475 Luna Drive, Downingtown, PA 19335
+1 (484) 885-6942
paulroemer@healthcareitstrategy.com

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HealthsystemCIO.com–a few thoughts

These are my comments to the post by Steve Huffman, VP & CIO, Memorial Health System.

Well written Steve. I think part of what is being missed by Washington is that in their effort to mandate providers move to facilitate a nationalized healthcare model; they have overlooked a few things. For starters, I think the EHR discussion has shrouded the fact that EHR is voluntary. Unfortunately, very few providers look at EHR as a decision they should evaluate—do I or do I not do EHR. Instead, they eschew that question, and view the need to do EHR as a decision that was made for them.

• Two business models are in play, a national model and the one used by providers. In the end game, even though it is only mentioned in the privacy of their own policy rooms—and not streamed on CSPAN—the national model is ultimately being designed to connect every doctor to every patient—one big hospital under thousands of roofs. The other model is the provider’s singular business model. It’s a patient-centric model (the healthcare business) and a business model (the business of healthcare). The two models have different goals and different requirements.

• If the model Washington is pushing were attractive, providers would be knocking one another down tying to be first in line to implement it. Clearly, that is not happening. Instead, Washington is offering billions in rebates, and there are still few takers.

• There is no viable plan on how to get from here to there—none, nada, zip. Instead of a coherent plan coming from them, they have put the monkey on the back of the providers, guiding them with carrots and sticks. Washington launched this idea without a much of a plan, and after the fact saddled the providers with three innocuous stages of rules—two of which remain undefined. They have yet to convince providers that they have a way to make sense out of having 400 different EHR vendors, no set of standards, hundreds of unique HIEs—I know you can’t have hundreds of anything and label it as unique—which bespeaks–the problem–and realistically expect it to work.

Why change your business rules and work flows to try to meet a plan that has stability of having been drafted on an Etch-A-Sketch? There are plenty of valid business reasons to evaluate changing the way providers work. There are huge potential gains in safety, care, efficiency, and effectiveness. These gains vary by organization. They vary based on the unique requirements of each organization. Properly planned and implemented, and EHR program with change management on workflow improvement can facilitate taking the business of healthcare from an 0.2 model to a 2.0 model.
Done poorly, and EHR will prove to be nothing more than a multi-million dollar scanner.

That being the case, you may want to use Steve’s methodology and ask him where you can go to buy a supply of the Composition books he uses.

Should you listen to the voices in your head?

Well, for starters, if you don’t nobody else will.

Just because I’m paranoid, doesn’t mean the voices in my head aren’t real. What voices?  They don’t like it when I speak of them, so I am going to speak in parentheses so they do not hear me.)

Riding the in the car yesterday with my son, the radio was playing Barber’s adagio, a mournful and eerily melancholy piece. It has long been one of my favorites.  I tried to get my son to turn off his PSP long enough for him to try to develop an appreciation for it.

He asked me to tune the radio to what he calls ‘his’ station while I kept extolling the specific virtues of the adagio, of Barber, and of classical music in general. I intended to win him over to my way of thinking.

The phrases I used to bolster my opinion kept coming to me, although I knew not from where.  I soon reached the point where I knew that I was no longer speaking to him, but role playing the very same discussion I had had with my father when I was about the same age as my son. Déjà vu. I have become my father’s son. The voice in my head was my father’s and I was not even charging my father rent for the space.

Do you hear the voices? No, not those voices. The ones you hear at work when you realize that the person speaking to you is your other self. The same voice you hear when you go out after work with your friends and begin to talk shop. By the third glass of wine the conversation has shifted from swapping stories about the craziest patient to wondering aloud when the company is ever going to learn how to fix their business. By glass five, you’re fixing it for them, diagramming solutions on cocktail napkins.

A word of encouragement. Listen to the voices. I bet you’ve come up with some great ideas. They won’t do anyone any good locked up in your head. Let them out. Show someone who can do something about it what you wrote on the napkins.

What are the success factors for EHR?

I just arrived in-country—I was in Wisconsin for two weeks.  I’ve been to forty-seven states, and Wisconsin has to be one of the friendliest.

Anyway, let us begin.  Not long after graduating with an MBA from Vanderbilt, I returned to Vandy to interview job candidates.  With me, was my adult supervisor, the VP of human resources—a stunning older woman; about thirty-five.  At dinner, she invited me to select the wine.  Not wanting to appear the fool, and trying to control my fawning, I pretended to study carefully the wine list.  Not having a clue, I based my selection entirely on price.  I had little or no knowledge of the subject; nonetheless, I placed the order with all the cock-sureness of a third-grader reciting the alphabet.

A few moments later Wine-man returned with a bottle, angled it towards me, and stood as rigid as a lawn statue.  After a few seconds my adult paused and motioned my attention towards Wine-man.  I remained nonplussed.  “You are supposed to tell him that the bottle he is holding is the one you ordered.”

“He knows it is what I ordered, that is why he brought it.”  I thought they were toying with me.

A few seconds later there was a slight popping sound and then Wine-man placed the cork before me on my napkin in a manner similar to how Faberge must have delivered his fabled egg to Tsar Alexander III for his wife Empress Fedorovna.  They were both staring at me, not the Tsar and the Empress—Wine-man and my adult.  “You are supposed to smell the cork.”  And so I did.

“Now what?”

“If it smells bad, it means the wine may be bad.”

To which I replied, “This is the Opryland Hotel—have you seen the wine prices?  They don’t sell bad wine.”  She nudged me with her elbow.  I could tell I was wowing her.  I smelled the cork.  “It smells like a cork,” I whispered to Wine-man.  He smiled and poured a half inch of wine in my glass.  I thought he was still pulling my lariat.

I looked bemusedly at the mostly empty glass, held it out to him, and asked him if I could have some more—I was thirsty.  Rather than embarrass me further, with a slight nod of her head my adult instructed the Wine-man that my sommelier class was over—any further proof of my inadequacies would be of limited marginal value.  Any chance that we would have gone dancing later that evening was about as flat as the wine.  I should have ordered a beer.  I was good at beer.

For those who are still reading, if you are wondering if I am actually going to make a point, here it comes.  I’m not fond of segues, so don’t blink.

Sometimes, a little guidance is helpful—even if it has to come in the form of being led around like camel with a ring through its nose.  One of my on-line friends, a nurse who teaches nursing—seems like a good fit–asked me what are the success factors for EHR.

Often, what is important in a leader is having the knowledge and temerity to ask the right question.  In healthcare it appears that the number of executives with answers may exceed the number asking questions.  Value is often measured by scarcity.   Good questions, especially around EHR and Meaningful Use, seem to be in short supply.

Here’s my take on some of the critical success factors:

  • Adult supervision—this is not defined by the age on your driver’s license
  • Invest time to plan your EHR plan; 6-9 months for a fair sized hospital
  • Actual written requirements (an RFP) that comes from your business strategy
  • A written healthcare information technology plan
  • Invest more than half of your time and effort in work flow alignment, change management, and training.
  • Should your plan seek to meet Meaningful Use
    • By when
    • How
    • What drives your strategy—Washington or your business model

Pretty simple things.  The right things usually are—like knowing what to do with the wine cork.