EHR certification inspectors will be dropping in on hospitals like UN inspectors looking for WMDs, only they’ll be slightly less congenial.
Why is this a part of the overall plan? Is this planned failure? Do they have reason to believe that a certain percentage of EHRs will fail the inspection?
Of course they do.
Permit me to begin with a C-Suite IQ test. Given the choice would you rather have:
- A certified EHR that resulted in a productivity loss of 20%
- An uncertified EHR that resulted in a productivity gain
Let’s describe two failure types; certification and Full test. The certification test, by definition, is necessary. The Full test is both necessary and sufficient. It is possible to pass certification without passing the Full test. Therefore, the Full test is a stricter test. Build out to pass the Full test, and by default, one should pass the Certification test.
What is the full test? Same as always. Fully functional, on time, within budget, and user accepted. Functional, for purposes of this discussion includes updated workflows, change management, and interoperability, and a slew of other deliverables.
Here’s what can be concluded just based on the facts.
Fact: One-third to two-thirds of EHRs are listed as having failed—this statistic will get smaller over time.
Opinion: The reason the failure rate will get smaller is that the failure rate will be artificially diluted by a large number of successful small-sized implementations. Large implementations, those have far-reaching footprints for their outpatient doctors, Rhios, and other interfaces requiring interoperability will continue to fail if their PMO is driving for certification. (Feel free to add meaningful use to the narrative, it doesn’t change the result.)
Fact: Most large, complex, expensive IT projects fail—they just do. This statistic has remained constant for years, and it is higher than the percentage of EHR projects that have failed. Even a fairly high percentage of those projects which set out to pass the Full test.
Opinion: Failure rate for large EHR projects—let’s say those above $10,000,000 (if you don’t like that number, pick your own)—as measured by the Full test, will fail at or above the rate for non-EHR IT projects.)
Bleak? You bet. Insurmountable? Doesn’t have to be.
What can you do to improve your chances of success? Find, hire, invent a killer PMO executive out of whole cloth who knows the EHR Fail Safe Points. EHR Fail Safe Points? The points, which if crossed unsuccessfully, place serious doubt about the project’s ability to pass the Full test. The points which will cause success factors to be redefined, and cause one or more big requirements—time, budget, functionality—to be sacrificed.
This person need not and perhaps should not be the CMIO, the CIO, or an MD. They need not have a slew of EHR implementation merit badges. The people who led the Skunk Works had had zero experience managing the types of planes and rockets they built. They were leaders, they were idea people, they were people who knew how to choose among many alternatives and would not be trapped between two.
The person need not be extremely conversant in the technical or functional intricacies of EMR. Those skills are needed—in spades—and you need to budget for them. The person you are looking for must be able to look you in the eye and convince you that they can do this; that they can lead, that these projects are their raison d’etre. They will ride heard over the requirements, the selection process, the vendors, the users, and the various teams that comprise the PMO.
A certified EHR is all it never was.
What do you think?
There were four of us, each wearing dark suits and sunglasses, walking uniformly down the street, pausing at a cross-walk labeled “consultants only”—I think it’s a trick because a lot of drivers seem to speed up when they see us. We looked like a bad outtake from the movie Reservoir Dogs. We look like that a lot.
It takes a lot of energy to dislike someone, but sometimes it is worth the effort. It is not easy being a consultant. One client required that I shout “unclean, unclean” as I passed through the hallways. Maybe that is why I leave newspapers scattered around the floor of my desk, so nobody can sneak up on me without me being able to hear them.
This is the time of year in the east when cinerescent caterpillar nests hang thickly from the trees, peppered tufts of cotton candy. During these long, flavorless August days, the sky is a similar achromatic color. My nine-year-old is concerned because I told her we are having caterpillar soup for dinner tonight—watch out for the crunchy bits. Once again, it seems I’ve gotten off message.
I was thinking about the time I was teaching rappelling in the Rockies during the summer between my two years of graduate school. The camp was for high school students of varying backgrounds and their counselors. On more than one occasion, the person on the other end of my rope would freeze and I would have to talk them down safely.
Again on the project failure? Yes. Why? Trying to head it off at the pass. Source, The Bull Report.