CHIME: Letter to the editor

I wrote this today in response to what I felt was an overly optimistic depiction of how well hospitals are coping with EHR.  What is your take?

 

I am writing in response to the viewpoint you wrote recently.
While there is no doubt that some hospitals have made tremendous progress implementing EHR, and some executives believe they have a realistic shot of securing incentive payments, I am convinced that when all is said and done and the Meaningful Use audit has been completed, the number of hospital CFOs queued outside of CHS to pick up their checks could fit comfortably in a Hyundai.
What goods news there will be, albeit unannounced, will be that once CMS discovers they are holding a twenty-billion dollar lottery for which no one is able to claim their prize, they will be forced to relax the standards and move the dates.  In fact, I think MU for hospitals may disappear altogether.
I am a strong supporter of the benefits of implementing EHR.  However, EHR vendors have not exactly had to add extra chairs in their waiting rooms to accommodate all of their potential customers.  Perhaps the incentive payments and the RECs arose from observing the number of failed implementations and the number of hospitals who have not made much progress with EHR.
I think when one writes about the successes of EHR for large providers it is important to level-set the reader with some measure of perspective in terms of the total population of large providers.  One way to describe the relative number of successful EHR implementations as compared to the number of hospitals may be to say it is comparable to the handful of people who know how to use all of the features of Microsoft Word against those who do not.

 

 

Meaningful Use: Where’s the Pony?

I often write not because I have something that needs to be said, but to try to explain something to myself.  If I get to a point where I think I understand an issue, I’ll make it public to see if the comments reflect my understanding, or to see if I need to have another go at my own thought process.  Which leads me to this—

Let’s back up the horses for a minute and return from whence we came.  EHR.  The idea was simple.  Two groups; patients and doctors.  Create a way to transport securely the medical records of any patient (P) to any doctor (D).

For the time being, let’s keep this at the level that can be understood by a third grader.  What two things do I need to satisfy this P:D relationship?  Data standards and a method of transport.

Do we have them?  We do not.  That being the case, what fury hath the ONC wrought?  (1 Roemer 9:17)  If you don’t have what you need, and you don’t have either the authority or a plan to get what you need, you must facilitate (fund) the creation of workarounds to fill the void.

At some point, the conversation must have quickly shifted from, “We need standards and transport”, to, “Since we don’t have standards and a means of transport, we must come up with other ways to try to make this work.”  Now, I don’t believe this is literally what happened, but I think one could see how it might have evolved.

Other ways.  What other ways?  The ONC loves me; it loves me not.  HITECH.  ARRA.  SO, they get to work and the plan they develop is “Take the monkey off our back and put it on the backs of the providers”.  Pay doctors to implement EHR.  Smote them if they don’t.  Stick and garrote management.  Write checks.  Big checks.  Lots of big checks.  Instead of coming up with a single transport plan and one set of standards, provide guidelines.  Make pronouncements.  Fund RHIOs and make them responsible for creating hundreds of unique transport plans and ask the RHIOs what progress they are making towards a single set of standards.  Get the monkey off your back.

Create artificial goalposts that get the HIT world all a-twitter every time the ONC makes a proclamation.  What goalposts?  Meaningful Use and Certification.  Just so there is no misinterpretation of what I think the issue is permit me to spell it out—Meaningful Use and Certification exist because there are no standards and there is no means of data transport.  Conversely, had the ONC developed standards and transport, there would be no discussion of Meaningful Use and no Certification.  Standards would have forced vendors to self-certify.

The other activity could be viewed as a feint.  Not one developed out of malice, rather one that came about from the void that resulted from the lack of a viable plan.  Meaningful Use and Certification are expensive workarounds for a failed or nonexistent national EHR rollout plan.  As are RHIOs and RECs.

The HIT world grinds to a halt at the very mention of any announcement from the ONC.  Their missives are available in PDF or stone tablets.  Imagine someone robs a bank, and as they exit the bank, they jaywalk on their way to their getaway car.  The police missed the robbery, and focus all their efforts on the secondary issue, the jaywalking.

The chain of events has caused the focus to move away from the primary issues of no standards and no plan, and towards a plethora of secondary issues, issues for which hundreds of people are responsible and no single person has authority.

The model is in such disarray that by the end of 2013 any ONC pronouncements on Meaningful Use and Certification won’t be able to buy time on MTV.

If any of this is close to being correct, what are the implications for a hospital looking to select and implement an EHR?  Simple; pind the EHR that is best for your hospital–not the one most likely to earn ARRA money.  Not the one which will pass today’s Meaningful Use test.  Define your requirements.  What requirements?  The ones you believe will most closely align with how the healthcare industry will look in 2015 and beyond.  Meaningful Use will change.  Reform will change.  Funds will change.  Reform will change again.  Will your EHR be able to change?

The EHRs were written before most people even heard of accountable care organizations (ACOs).  What do you think the chances are of an EHR supporting ACOs without someone having to take it apart with a hammer and chisel?

The ONC’s Meaningful Use proclamation is 556 pages.  If you occupy the C-suite of your hospital, I hope you don’t let those pages define your selection of an EHR.  Some would argue that with so many pages that there must be a pony in there somewhere.  From what I read, I’m in no hurry to rush out and buy a saddle.

EHR… “You are not twenty anymore”

There is a first time for everything.  Yesterday was the first time it occurred to me that there is a difference between being twenty and not being twenty.  A few days ago one of the women at the gym was bemoaning the fact that being forty wasn’t at all like being thirty–puhleeaasse.

My wife would have me point out her admonition of “You are not twenty anymore.”  Women do not understand that to men this phrase goes into our little brains and comes out reshuffled as the phrase “Just you wait and see.”

There are those who would have you believe that there is no single muscle that is connected to every other muscle, a muscle which if pulled will make every other muscle hurt.  I beg to differ.  I think I found it—I call it a my groinal—it’s connected to my adverse and inverse bent-egotudinals, the small transflexors located behind the mind’s eye.  I found the muscle while running back a kickoff during a Thanksgiving morning game of flag football.

Call it an homage to the Kennedys.  Sort of made me fee like one of them—I think it was Ethyl.  Old guys versus new guys—I know it’s a poor word choice but you know what I mean which after all is why we’re both here.  Did I mention that everything aches, so much so that I tried dipping myself in Tylenol?

There are two types of people who play football, those who like to hit people and those who don’t like being hit.  I am clearly a member of the latter camp.  I used to be able to avoid being hit by being faster than the other guy.  This day I avoided getting hit by running away from the other guy.

The weird part is that my mind still pictures my body doing things just like the college kids on the field, and it feels the same, it just isn’t.  Two kids passed me–they were probably on steroids, and my only reaction was the parent in me wanting to ground the two of them.  Half the guys are moving at half the speed of the other guys.  At the end of each play, we find our side doubled over, our hands on our knees, our eyes scanning the sidelines for oxygen and wondering why the ground appears to be swaying.

As the game progresses, instead of running a deep curl pattern, I find myself saying things like, “I’ll take two steps across the line of scrimmage, hit me if I’m open.”  Thirty minutes later I’m trying to cut a deal with their safety, telling him, “I’m not in this play, I didn’t even go to the huddle.”  After that I’m telling the quarterback, “If you throw it to me, I’m not going to catch it, no matter what.”

All the parts are the same ones I’ve always had, but they aren’t functioning the way they should.  It’s a lot like assembling a gas grill and having a few pieces remaining—I speak from experience.  Unfortunately, implementing complex healthcare information technology systems can often result in things not functioning the way they should, even if you have all the pieces.  It helps to have a plan, have a better one than you thought you needed, have one written by people who plan nasty HIT systems, then have someone manage the plan, someone who can walk into the room and say, “This is what we are going to do on Tuesday, because this is what you should do on Tuesday on big hairy projects.”.

Then, if you pull your groinal muscle implementing EHR, try dipping yourself in Tylenol.

 

EHR–WWOD (What would Oprah do?)

So, I’m watching the Alabama Auburn game and it suddenly strikes me, there are probably a lot of people trying to understand what it is a consultant does that we can’t do for ourselves.

For those who have a life, those who missed the game, Auburn entered the game undefeated and had a good chance to play for the national title.  Alabama opens the game with several well-scripted opening plays and grabbed an early lead.

Their first ‘n’ offensive plays were brilliant.  They were planned perfectly.

It became apparent they had not planned the however many of the ‘n + 1’ plays.  Their plan failed to go beyond what they’d already accomplished.

How does that apply to what you do, what I do, and why I think I can help you?  It is best described by comparing your brain to a consultant’s brain.  Your work brain functions exactly as it should.  It’s comprised of little boxes of integrated work activities, one for admissions and registration, one for diagnosis, another for care.  There’s probably another box for whatever it is the newsletter stated IT was doing three months ago and how that impacts what you do.  That’s your job.

Your boxes interface in some form or fashion with the boxes of the person next to you in the hospital’s basement cafeteria who is paying for her chicken, broccoli, and rice dish that reminds you of what you ate at crazy Uncle Bob’s wedding reception.  That interface is the glue that makes the hospital work.  It’s also the synapse, the connective tissue—I know it’s a weak metaphor, but it’s a holiday weekend—give me some slack—that tries to keep healthcare functioning in an 0.2 business model.

There are names for the connective tissue, you know it and I know it.  It’s called politics.  It’s derived from antiquated notions like, “this is how we’ve always done it”, “that’s radiology’s problem”, and “nobody asked me”,

At some point over the next week or two the inevitable happens; the need arises for you to add some tidbit of information.  Do you add it to an existing box, put it in an empty box, or ignore it?  This is where you must separate the wheat from the albumen—just checking to see how closely you’re following.

Your personal warehouse of boxes looks like the final scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark—acre after acre of dusty, full boxes, no Dewy-decimal filing system, and no empty box.  There are two rules at the hospital; one, bits of information must go somewhere, and two, nobody can change rule one.

The difference, and it’s a big one, is that consultants have an empty box.  It’s our Al Gore lockbox.  We were born that way.  It’s like having a cleft chin.  We also have no connective tissue to your organization.  No groupthink.  No Stepford Wives. No Invasion of the Body Snatchers to turn us into mindless pods.  Consultants may be the only people who don’t care.  Let me rephrase that.  We don’t care about the politics.  We don’t care that the reason the hospital has four IT departments is because the hospital’s leadership was afraid to tell the siloed docs that they couldn’t buy or build whatever they wanted.

Sometimes it comes down to your WWOD (what would Oprah do) moment.  Not ‘what do they want me to do’, not ‘what would they do’, not ‘what is the least disruptive’, not ‘what goes best with what the other hospital did’.

At some point it comes down to, what is the right thing to do; what should we do.

Big, hairy healthcare IT projects come out of the shoot looking like Alabama did against Auburn.  The first however many moves are scripted perfectly.  Heck, you can download them off Google.  Worse yet, you can get your EHR vendor to print them for you.

The wheat from the albumen moment comes when you have to come up with an answer to the questions, “What do we do next,” and “Why doesn’t it work like they said it would?”

That’s why consultants have an open box.  You know what we are doing when our brain takes us to the open box?  Thinking.  No company politics to sidetrack us.  Everybody knows the expected answers, but often the expected answer is not the best answer.  Almost everybody knows what comes after A, B, C, and D.

Sometimes…E is not the right answer or the best answer.

Why is implementing EHR like getting kids to eat broccoli?

Do you ever wonder if perhaps you are the only person who was never photographed with one of the Kennedys?  That got me thinking about our presidents.  NPR interviewed the person who spent eighty hours interviewing Clinton during the eight years during which he was allowed to park freely anywhere in DC.  See how this is already starting to come together?

The interviewer mentioned that Clinton described the Lewinski episode as a distraction.  I also employed several descriptors of that affairs—and yes, the pun is intentional—but I must have overlooked calling it a distraction.  People on both sides of the aisle called the episode a stupid thing.  Perhaps we should define the term ‘stupid thing’—doing long division and forgetting to carry the one is ‘a stupid thing’; mixing a red sock with a load of whites is ‘a stupid thing’.  Sometimes politics can have us all screaming infidelities.

When I share my thoughts about these things, some look at me like they are staring at an unlabeled can of food and trying to guess the contents.  Perhaps objectivity is only for the truly unimaginative.

Here comes the segue.  All of that thinking about presidents got me to thinking about Mr. Obama, reform, and EHR.  A lot of the original economic reform discussion had to do with TARP monies being tossed at the banks.  It was almost like a reverse bank holdup as the feds made the banks take money.

Which now takes us to healthcare reform and EHR.  ARRA money and states like New York providing a stimulus to the stimulus.  What is so distasteful about EHR that it makes governments offer money to get providers to implement it?  How might we illustrate this?

Let’s say I offer my children a choice of two things to eat; broccoli and chocolate cake.  What happens?  My kids make a bee-line for the cake.  The broccoli requires an incentive to get any takers.  My children are prepared to suffer untold penalties instead of eating the broccoli.  There may be some financial incentive which will entice them to eat broccoli, but it will be pricey.  Telling them it’s good for them, or that they have to eat it makes no difference to short people—they need to be bribed.

Telling healthcare providers EHR is good for them, or that they have to do it makes no difference to tall people—they want to be bribed.  What does this signify?  What is it about EHR that requires incentives and some foreign force majeure to get the discussion underway?  It’s not as though the healthcare providers don’t want to do things that will improve their business.  What is it they know that we don’t?  What other than money would make them run towards EHR rather than away from it?

You don’t suppose it has something to do with broccoli, do you?

For those who enjoy Dana Carvey, here’s a link to his song about chopping broccoli.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gO57XRDDodk

 

The effect of poor planning

I’ve always considered myself to be rather athletic, although I must have been on break when they handed out the coordination genes.  Perhaps that is why I tended towards individual efforts like running.

As it was, I was fairly good at ice skating as long as I was moving forward, the straighter the better.  Turning and stopping required an abundance of room, and an absence of other skaters.

Whoever came up with the notion that if you can ice skate you can roller skate was either lying through his teeth, or I became skating’s anti-matter.  At the time of my first attempt at roller skating I was unaware that ice and roller skating skills weren’t transferable.  Have I mentioned I like having an audience?  I decided to audition my roller skating skills at a public skating rink while on a first date.

The night was proceeding swimmingly.  I learned quickly that if I stayed to the edge and leaned towards the center of the rink, centrifugal force would keep me from falling.  My confidence in my abilities began to build.  Music boomed from the overhead speakers.  Several couples held hands, the more skilled ones crossed their arms in front of them and held hands.  I locked on to my date’s wrists and eased us into the first turn.  The song switched to Barry Manilow’s “I write the songs.”  To my misfortune–an the misfortune of everyone else, I knew the words, and began to serenade my date.  When an alpha-male sings Barry Manilow in front of anyone but his own shadow, only two things can happen and they’re both bad.

We hit the second turn and I began to accelerate.  We sped past a number of couples.  I sang louder, concentrating more on the words than on the task of keeping us both upright.

For those unfamiliar with the design of roller skates I should explain what I perceive to be a fatal design flaw—one which you will note has been eliminated in roller blades.  The flaw?  On the front of each roller skate about an inch from the bottom is a round rubber device that resembles a stunted hockey puck.  It serves no known purpose other than to sucker punch novice skaters.  If you mistakenly try to build speed by pushing off with the toe of your roller skate—as you do in ice skating—you are actually hitting the emergency brake.  And because the brake is at the front of the skate, the physics is such that once your feet stop, the only direction the rest of your body can go is head over heels.

I pushed off with the front of my foot; big mistake.

I looked like I had purposefully launched us over a pommel horse.  During the first few seconds of my flight I was reluctant to let go of my date’s hands.  I thought that if we fell together that there was some small chance that I could shift the blame for the crash to her.  We separated at speed and created sort of a demolition derby for those around us; bodies piling up like logs awaiting entrance to a saw mill.  For the rest of the evening it felt like people were pointing at me as if to say, “Steer clear of him, he’s the one who took us all out.”

My one mistake caused a chain reaction of bad events and a severely hematomaed ego.  Bad things rarely happen in a vacuum.  There’s cause and effect, and the effect can be disastrous.  For those of you whose EHR program is underway who may have scrimped on the planning process—you know who you are—you may as well be the captain of the Titanic throwing refrigerant in the water.  There is no recovery from bad planning.

No matter what the shape of your EHR implementation, if you find yourself humming a few bars of “I write the songs”, only two things can happen and they’re both bad.

Healthcare 2.0, can you get there from here?

From a business perspective, not clinical, the critical success factor for H2.0 relies on healthcare’s ability to move from being an 0.2 industry in terms of how it is run as a business.

H0.2 is the “As-is” model.  H2.0 is the “To-be” model.  To reach H2.0 healthcare must bridge that functional, work flow, change management, user acceptance, and technical GAP.  The Gap will differ by provider.  There is no singular work plan to help providers know what they need to do to build a custom plan to bridge the gap.

None of this matters until the healthcare provider willingly acknowledges that they have a long way to go to get to anything that resembles H2.0.

H0.2 – H2.0 = GAP

If you don’t mind the gap,  H2.0 is just H2O–all wet.

One other thought.  There is a lot of discussion about Healthcare 2.0.  The discussion seems to suggest 2.0 is a destination point as though one can “arrive” at Healthcare 2.0.  Viewed this way, when healthcare arrives at 2.0, everyone else will be arriving at 3.0.  Unless the model evolves along a continuum, the journey may have been for naught.

What are the voices telling you?

My favorite thing about healthcare is having witnessed it up close and personal both as a cancer patient in the 80’s and as the survivor of a heart attack seven years ago.

I was fortunate enough to have testicular cancer before Lance Armstrong made it seem kind of stylish.  Caught early, it’s one of the most curable cancers.  As those who’ve undergone the chemo will attest, the cure is almost potent enough to kill you.

I self-diagnosed while watching a local news cast in Amarillo where I was stationed on one of my consulting engagements.  As we were having dinner, my fellow consultants voted to change the channel—I however had lost my appetite.  I went to my room, looked in Yellow Pages—see how times have changed—and called the first doctor I found.  This is one of those times when Never Wrong Roemer hated being right.

So, yada, yada, yada; my hair falls out in less time than it took to shower.  A few more rounds of chemo, the cancer’s gone and I start my see America recovery Tour, my wig and I visiting friends throughout the southeast.  If I had it to do over, I would go without the wig, but at twenty-seven the wig was my security blanket.  I don’t think it ever fooled anyone or anything—even my house plants snickered when I wore it around them.

I owned a TR-7 convertible—apparently it never lived up to its billing as the shape of things to come, more like the shape of things that never were.  My wig blew out of the convertible as I made my way through Smokey Mountain National Park.  I spent twenty minutes walking along the highway until I spotted what looked like a squirrel laying lifelessly on the shoulder—my wig.

The last stop on my tour was at a friend’s apartment in Raleigh.  Overheated from the long drive and the August sun, I decided to take a few laps in her pool.  I dove in the shallow end, swam the length of the pool, performed a near-flawless kick-turn and eased in to the Australian Crawl.  As I turned to gasp for air, I noticed I was about to lap my hair.  I also noticed a small boy, his legs dangling in the water, with a look of astonishment on his face.

My ego had reached rock bottom and had started to dig.  Realizing my wig wasn’t fooling anyone but me, I had one of those “know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em moments” and never again wore the wig after learning it was such a poor swimmer.

Do you get those moments, or get the little voice telling you that your EHR strategy isn’t fooling anyone?  It’s okay to acknowledge the voices as long as you don’t audibly reply to them during meetings—I Twitter mine.

Sometimes the voices ask why we didn’t evaluate the EHR vendors with a detailed RFP.  Other times they want to know how that correspondence course in project management is coming along.  It’s okay.  As long as you’re hearing the voices you still have a shot at recovery.  It’s only when they quit talking that you should start to worry.  Either that, or try wearing a wig.

 

How the election will impact healthcare IT and EHR

Here are my thoughts on how the election will impact healthcare IT and EHR.  This post can also be found at healthsystem cio.com at http://healthsystemcio.com/2010/11/03/healthcare-2-0-here-we-go-again/

The real healthcare 2.0

Just when you thought it was safe to get back into the water…

It is a strange day when the smartest people in the room are the ones who did absolutely nothing.  Whether doing nothing required divination and prescience or, merely resulted from having no idea which way to tack the boat need not be determined.

So, what exactly will be the impact on your IT and business strategies after the bloodletting in Washington?  How is the whole Meaningful Use strategy going to bear fruit?  Unfortunately, the most favorable answer to a large provider may be, “We don’t know.”  If nothing else, now that Washington again has a two party system and is hosting a tea-party—Blanche Lincoln will be drinking coffee, one can be certain reform will be stalled if not derailed.

Most of the verbiage prior to yesterday focused on how much of an impact healthcare reform would have on the election, a P implies Q argument.  I think those individuals were too busy minding the P’s and Q’s when they should have been focused on their Q’s and P’s.  that is, how much impact will the election have on healthcare reform.

Twelve months were invested in the first debate on healthcare reform.  Ten more have since passed.  In grouping periods of time, I find it helpful to develop naming conventions to distinguish between two events or periods of time.  To at least pretend to be apolitical, allow me to label the healthcare reform and all the dollars invested by large providers to prepare their organizations to meet it prior to November 2, 2010, BP Reform.  All things after the royal coach turned back into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight shall be labeled AP Reform—I will let you sort out the acronym.

Did I mention that under AP Reform the new governors will be appointing the new state insurance commissioners?  These individuals will be the ones responsible for implementing AP Reform.  These same people are responsible for determining the medical loss ratio which plays into how much insurers must spend on Medicare.

On November 2, you could not walk the hospital corridors without bumping into something unknown about the impact of BP Reform.  Today the conversation is simpler in that everything is an unknown.  What happens to the $400 billion in Medicare cuts and the states enacting legislation to forbid mandatory insurance?

How will the election affect the financial sustainability of Health Information Exchanges (HIEs)?  This alone is enough to cause one to question the viability of the National Health Information Network.

Bearing in mind that it will take many months to sort out the impact of yesterday’s election on the healthcare IT implications of AP Reform, what topics might be worthy of consideration at the next meeting of the EHR Steering Committee?  Here are a few that come to mind for me:

  • Will the healthcare legislation change?  If so, how?
  • Will certification continue to exist?
  • What will happen to Meaningful Use?  Will the requirements change?  What about the deadlines?  Will the incentives remain as they are?
  • How will it impact HIEs and the N-HIN?
  • What will AP Reform do to the development of Accountable Care Organizations?  How will ACOs need to be supported and reported?
  • How will Patient Experience Management differ?
  • How should the organization’s strategic plan be altered?
  • What should our HIT plans look like?

The one thing I think we can agree on is that having an Electronic Health Records (EHR) system will be an integral part of whatever comes about.  What it is, how it gets there, how you implement it, and what it will be able to do remains up to you.

I have been telling my clients to approach EHR and Meaningful Use as though Meaningful Use did not exist.  Given that the number of business uncertainties has just skyrocketed my counsel to large healthcare providers is to approach EHR with a narcissistic attitude.  Select and implement EHR as though Meaningful Use did not exist.  Why handcuff your EHR to constraints that will certainly change?

 

Could social media be the answer?

The wheel’s still turning, but the hamster is dead. One Brady short of a bunch. I like the ocean one because it reminds me of a bit done by the comic Ron White. In the bit he talks about the time he met a woman who was wearing a bathing suit made of sea shells which he held to his ear to find out if he could hear the ocean. Maybe you had to be there.

All day I’ve been operating as though I was one Brady short of a bunch—I actually have cufflinks with Marcia Brady’s picture on them, but we’ll save that for another day. The day’s highlight revolved around my daughter’s doubleheader field hockey matches–third and fourth grade girls. Their opponents looked better, older. In fact, I thought I saw one or two of them drive themselves to the field. Forty-eight degrees, first game at 8 AM. Not enough time to grab breakfast and get to the game on time. I dropped my daughter at the field and headed to a nearby convenience store to buy her a donut. As I pulled into the parking lot I noticed that I needed gas, so I figured why not multi-task it. I inserted the nozzle in the tank, went into the store, purchased a donut, and proceeded to drive away.

For the metrics lovers, those who like order over chaos, those whose desk is always neat, have you discovered my Brady moment? My purpose in going to the store was to buy a donut, not gas. My mind was focused on the donut, not on the gas. Once the donut was resting safely on the passenger’s seat my mission was over, or so I thought. Something was gnawing at me as I pulled away from the pump, something that flared at me in my rearview mirror. I knew what it was a full second before my body got the message to react to it. “Hit the break,” my mind screamed. I could see what remained of the black gas pump hose as it pirouetted helplessly behind my car. I fully expected the entire gas station to be consumed by a giant fireball like the one at the conclusion of the movie Rambo. Once I was convinced that neither I nor–it turns out that neither nor does not violate the rule of using a double negative in a sentence–anyone else in the vicinity was in mortal danger, I exited my car and walked to the pump.

My first reaction, and I don’t know why, was to see if the pump was still charging my credit card. Selfish? That means that subconsciously I had already made the decision to flee, but that I didn’t want to flee if my charge card was still open. I retrieved the severed hose from the ground and inserted it in the pump, thereby closing out the sale on my credit card. I looked around. There wasn’t anyone who had witnessed my little AARP moment. Since they hadn’t, I figured why bother anyone. Kismet; my turn on the hamster wheel.

I’m convinced it’s the little things that determine whether your initiatives succeed or fail. It’s usually nothing tricky, nothing that requires two commas worth of new technology. It’s being focused and being committed to excellence in the menial tasks which comprise each patient interaction, especially those that occur outside of the office. What little things are being overlooked in your practice?  Could social media solve some of these?  In a heartbeat, and for a cost that would surprise you.

Oh, and don’t forget to hang up the hose when you’re done.