EHR: Men Behaving Badly

When I lived in Colorado my friend and I decided that instead of running during our lunch break we would sit in on an aerobics class. Our plan was to hide away in the back of the class, watch the ladies, and then head back to the office. No sweat—literally, that was also part of the plan. Our thought process was that if women and other lower life forms could do it, how difficult could it be? We were mainly manly men; excuse the use of alliteration.

Within ten minutes we had to peel ourselves from the floor, barely able to lift our arms and legs. What we’d viewed as an hour of simple stretching coupled with an hour of looking like mainly manly men had reduced us to a pair of whimpering sissy boys. We also learned that if you sit in the back of the class that in order to exit you had to make it past all of the ladies as you dragged your carcass from the room.

Fast forward a few decades. I went to an exercise class called spinning. Sounds a little like ballet. It’s a stationary bike. A large TV hangs on a wall. Once again the room is packed with non-males, including my wife. My take on it is that it’s a bike class for women who’d rather watch Regis and pretend to exercise instead of actually breaking a sweat. What the heck; I was already there, why not humor her. The instructor smirked at me when I asked her to tune the TV to ESPN. She inserted a CD of The Killers, cranked it all the way up, and we started pedaling. Pyramids, intervals, uphill, more uphills. Twenty minutes into it my water bottle was empty, my towel soaked. The ladies, including my wife, were chatting away as though they were walking the dog.

Not everything changes with time. Sometimes it is better to participate than to watch. Sometimes it’s better to watch. Sometimes, no matter how certain one is, one’s certainty is meant to be changed. Sometimes certainty is based on bad ideas. Like the certainty that comes from knowing, “We’re doing just fine, thank you very much.”

There’s a scene in Billy Crystal’s movie, City Slickers, where the guys are on their horses and one remarks, “We don’t know where we’re going, but we’re making really good time.”

What is that everyone holds with such certitude in healthcare IT? Is it the knowledge that even if EHR drops productivity by 20% it was still a good call? Is it that chasing Meaningful Use, even if it means forgoing supporting the business strategy is wise?

One thing your IT vendor will never tell you

Permit me to let you in on a little secret—most firms have no idea how to manage their IT applications vendors.

In turn, this means they are managing you.  By the way, this is a bad thing.

The best way I have found to understand this problem is to liken what IT vendors tell you to what magicians tell their audience.  Bear with me.  If you have ever attended a magic show or watched one on television you will note that the best magicians tell you prior to their performance that they are going to lie to you.  In order for a magician’s performance to work on you any magician has to get you to suspend your belief.

A magician tells the audience that everything else you are about to hear and see is a lie.  And then they tell you they are going to cut someone in half, they do it, and your eyes are so amazed that somehow your brain forgets the bit about being lied to, about being led down a path of suspending your beliefs.

The difference between magicians and IT vendors is that IT vendors forget to mention at the outset—or at any other time—that not everything they tell you is true.  Things like what their system will cost, what it will do and how long it will take.

And because they do not tell you they are lying, once you have suspended your belief, you forget to unsuspend it.  Hence, you are caught up in their fantasy world and you foolishly believe what they tell you.

For the most part, IT vendors are not the people you want next to you in the EHR, ERP, or any IT foxhole.  In the dog-eat-lemming world of IT, never forget that the term ‘partner’ is an oxymoron.  IT is a business and the goal of every business is to maximize profits.  The best ways to maximize profits are to reduce costs and to increase revenues.  The only way to do so is for vendors to increase your costs.

Keep your eyes and ears open the next time your vendor offers to cut someone in half.

EHR: What Bugs You About It?

16This 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 wonder how much of the difficulty surrounding EHR has to do with getting off message, much like we seem to have done with the reform discussion.  What difficulties?  Got time?  You can name more of them than can I.

What is off message?  It’s that the day-to-day tactics of implementing EHR office by office, and hospital by hospital have overshadowed the strategy, have displaced the business driver behind the mandate.  The focus became internal, not national.  Bits and bytes have overshadowed charts.

I doubt few, if any, can articulate a believable explanation of how a few years from now your medical records will accurately and expeditiously be delivered from where you live to the lone clinic on Main Street, Small Town, USA, to the nurse practitioner who at midnight is giving you an EKG.

It’s that fact, that we are not able to define how we get from A to B, let alone do so with multitudes of A’s and B’s, that to me suggests we are building something of which we have little comfort will do what we set out for it do.

Clearly, there are hundreds if not thousands of very talented and dedicated professionals focused on finding a solution.  However, it seems their efforts remain handcuffed by hundreds of competing products, no well-defined overriding set of requirements that would enable anyone to say with certainty, “Yes, that is it.  That captures what we need to do.  When we have done that, we are done.”

Until that time, I think we all need to be concerned about the crunchy bits.

What do you think?

EHR: When you’re in a hole, stop digging

rappelling_1_1I 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.

Late in the day, a thunderstorm broke quickly over the mountain, causing the counselor on my rope to panic.  No amount of talking was going to get her to move either up or down, so it was up to me to rescue her.  I may have mentioned in a prior post that my total amount of rappelling experience was probably no more than a few more hours than hers.  Nonetheless, I went off belay, and within seconds, I was shoulder to shoulder with her.

The sky blackened, and the wind howled, raining bits of rock on us.  I remember that only after I locked her harness to mine did she begin to relax.  She needed to know that she didn’t have to go this alone, and she took comfort knowing someone was willing to help her.

That episode reminds me of a story I heard about a man who fell in a hole—if you know how this turns out, don’t tell the others.  He continues to struggle but can’t find a way out.  A CFO walks by.  When the man pleads for help the CFO writes a check and drops it in the hole.  A while later the vendor walks by—I know this isn’t the real story, but it’s my blog and I’ll tell it any way I want.  Where were we?  The vendor.  The man pleads for help and the vendor pulls out the contract, reads it, circles some obscure item in the fine print, tosses it in the hole, and walks on.

I walk by and see the man in the hole.  “What are you doing there?”  I asked.

“I fell in the hole and don’t know how to get out.”

I felt sorry for the man—I’m naturally empathetic—so I hopped into the hole.  “Why did you do that?  Now we’re both stuck.”

“I’ve been down here before” I said, “And I know the way out.”

I know that’s a little sappy and self-serving.  However, before you decide it’s more comfortable to stay in the hole and hope nobody notices, why not see if there’s someone who knows the way out?

Merely appointing someone to run your EHR effort doesn’t do anything other than add a name to an org chart.

The real impact of the EHR resource shortage

(AP) New York.  It is Reservoir Dogs 2.0 only this time the terrorists appear to be a clean-shaven group of EPCI subject matter experts. Reuters is reporting that early this morning the group of EPIC consultants, each one armed to the teeth with iPads and wireless mice and Blackberrys was last seen forcing a rag-tag group of hospitalists and CIOs into a windowless, upper floor room of the convention center.  It is rumored that a senior analyst from McKesson was also a member of the terrorist group, albeit in a non-billable role.

CMS has long been suggesting that with the huge shortage of skilled EHR specialists that sooner or later those with the knowledge would rise up and hold the providers hostage.

A spokesperson for the terrorists with a background in CPOE released a list of their demands.  They demand to have their rates tripled, to have an organic smoothie machine placed in the hospital cafeteria, and the right to remain employed even though the EHR will drop productivity by thirty percent.

One terrorist who demanded anonymity stated “I do not know why everyone looks so surprised that their EHR software does not work.  Nobody asked if it would work, they just wanted us to install it.”

EHR: What are your Bona Fides?

The photo comes from my Robert Redford look alike period.

Do you ever awaken wishing you were all you used to think you were before you figured out you weren’t?  Me either.  I’m someone who has these kind of days when it’s best to keep me away from shiny objects.

During college, I spent several summers volunteering for a group called Young Life at their camps throughout the US.  Silver Cliff was one of their camps in the mountains of Colorado.  Each week we’d take in a few hundred high school kids from throughout the US, and give them the opportunity to do things and challenge themselves in new ways; everything from riding horses to rappelling.

The prior summer I was the head wrangler at one of their camps—I had never ridden a horse prior to being placed in charge of the riding program.  This summer is was the person running the rappelling program.  Needless to say, I had never done that before either.

We received a day’s worth of instruction before we were turned loose on the kids.  One of the first things we had to learn was that the ropes and harness, if properly secured to the carabineers and figure eight, would actually keep you from falling to your death.  The first test was jumping from a platform way up in a tree while on belay.  After a few moments of white-knuckle panic, I stepped over the edge and was belayed safely to the ground.

From there, we scouted a place for the rappel, and found two suitable cliffs, each with about a hundred foot vertical drop.  Watching my first rappel must have reminded others of what it would have been like watching a chimp learn how to use tools for the first time.  After several tentative descents, I was able to make it safely to the bottom in a single jump.

Each day we’d run a few dozen kids through the course, ninety-nine percent of whom had never rappelled, or ever wanted to rappel.  To convince them that it was safe and that they could complete it, I would instruct them in the technique as I hung backwards over the chalk face of the limestone cliff.

Each day we’d have one or two kids who wanted nothing to do with my little course.  Occasionally, while on belay, one of them would freeze half way down the cliff, and I’d have to belay down and rescue them.

Once or twice I’d have an attractive female counselor on belay, her knowing that I was the only thing keeping her from being a Rorschach stain on the rocks below.  Scared, and looking for a boost of confidence, “She’d ask, how long have you been doing this?” I’d look at my watch and ask her how many days ago was Sunday.  I viewed it as an opportunity to have a little fun with her—sort of like turning to your friend in the checkout line in 7-eleven and saying loud enough for others to hear, “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to use our guns.” I also hoped maybe even having to go on a heroic rescue.

How long have you been doing this?  That’s seems like a fair question to ask of anyone in a clinical situation.  It’s more easily answered when you are in someone’s office and are facing multiple framed and matted attestations of their skills.  Seen any good EHR or HIT certificates on the walls of the people entrusted with the execution of the EHR endowment?  Me either.  I have a cardiologist and he has all sorts of paper hanging from his wall.  Helps to convince me he knows his stuff.  Now, if I were to pretend to be a cardiologist—I’ve been thinking of going to night school—I’d expect people would expect to see my bona fides.

Shouldn’t the same logic apply to spending millions of EHR dollars?  Imagine this discussion.

“What do you do?”

“I’m buying something for the hospital I’ve never bought.”

“Why?”

“The feds say we’ve got to have it.”

“Oh.  What’s it do?”

“Nobody really knows.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“How many days ago was Sunday?”

“What’s it cost?”

“Somewhere between this much,” he stretches out his arms, “And this much,” stretching them further.

“Do the doctors want this?”

“Some do.  A lot don’t.”

“How will you know when you’re done if you got it right?”

“Beats me.”

“Sounds like fun,” she said, trying to fetter a laugh.

Sounds like fun to me too.

EHR: the Prefect Problem

A perfect problem, in its existing state, is unsolvable.  The way most of us handle it is to click our heels together three times and hope it goes away.  We tend to work on imperfect problems, those that can be solved.

One of my college professors—way back when we still had inkwells on our desks—told me that if you cannot solve the problem the way it is stated, it is to your advantage to restate the problem.  I tried this on a final exam; the problem as it was stated was to contrast two philosophers, one of whom, having not read the book, I had no idea who he was. I restated the problem to contrast two philosophers I knew.  He wrote back on my exam saying I had made a nice effort at using the technique but that the philosopher I chose was the wrong one.

What is the difference between the two problem types?  The first step is the ability to understand what makes the perfect problem uniquely unfixable.  Perhaps a few examples would help.

  • The CEO imposed a deadline for the implementation of EHR.
  • CMS Meaningful Use rules do not fit with our operational strategy.
  • If we do not implement EHR by this date, we do not get the money.
  • We must meet Meaningful Use
  • We do not have enough resources from the EHR users to understand their processes.
  • We cannot continue to support these low-margin services
  • We do not have enough time to define our requirements
  • We cannot afford to spend the time required to assess our processes before we bring in the EHR vendor.

What can be done?  The easy answer is to plan for failure and do your best to minimize it.

What is another way to describe the above examples?  They are constraints.  They can all be rewritten using the word “can’t”.  Rewritten, we might say, “We had a chance to succeed, but because of X, Y, and Z we can’t.”  If that assessment is correct, you will fail, or at least under-deliver at a level that will be remembered for years to come.  That’s a legacy none of us wants.

There are a few solutions to this scenario.  You can eliminate the seemingly intractable constraints; the organization can determine to re-implement EHR and hope for different results; or they can simply find someone else to solve the perfect problem.

Experience teaches good leaders really want reasoned advice.  They want the members of the C-suite to tell them what must be done to be successful.  Good leaders do not accept “can’t”—not on the receiving end, not on the delivering end.

Some will argue, “This is the way our organization works.”  Even if that is true one must consider what is needed to make an exception to the constraint.  Would you accept this logic from a subordinate?  Of course not.  You’d demand a viable solution.  If you are being constrained in your efforts to solve a perfect problem, perhaps it is time to restate the constraints.

Maybe the solution to the perfect problem is to restate it in a manner that makes it imperfect—solvable.

 

Jihad Joe: EHR Vendors, What’s not to like?

When competing hypotheses are equal in other respects, the principle recommends selection of the hypothesis that introduces the fewest assumptions and postulates the fewest entities while still sufficiently answering the question. It is in this sense that Occam’s razor is usually understood.  There is no corollary that works with EHR vendors.

What if we look at HIT vendor selection logically?  Have you ever noticed at the grocery store how often you find yourself in the longest checkout line, or when you’re on the highway how often you find yourself in the slowest lane?  Why is that?  Because those are the lines and lanes with the most people, which is why they move the slowest.

If you are asked in which line is Mr. Jones, you would not be able to know for certain, but you would know that the most probable option is the one with the most people in it.  You are not being delusional when you think you are in the slowest lane, you probably are, you and all the people in front of you.  The explanation uses simple logic.  It’s called the anthropic principle– observations of our physical universe must be compatible with the life observed in it.

It can be argued that the business driver which shapes the software selection process of some is the aesthetics of efficiency, a Jihad Joe approach to expediency.  Buy the same system the hospital down the street bought, the one recommended by your golfing buddy, or the one that had the largest booth at the convention.  Or, one can apply the anthropic principle, rely on the reliability of large numbers and simply follow the market leader.

Might work, might not.  My money is on might not.  There’s still plenty of time to do it right.  If that fails, there will always be time to do it wrong later.  Of course, you can always play vendor darts.  If you do, you should sharpen them so they’ll stick better.

Which EHR should you buy? Read & Learn

Last week I attended the If It Walks, You Can Hunt It convention.  Hunters—no gatherers allowed—convened from across the globe.  People whose firms make things for hunters to use to kill things were scattered across five hundred thousand square feet of convention floor, offering everything from how to properly kit yourself in trendy camo prior to eviscerating the last Dodo bird using only a rudimentary can opener, to hunting deadly hamsters with Stinger missiles.

I was interested in learning about hunting deer, not because I like to hunt deer, but because I like to eat it, and until they start selling deer at my local convenience store, my options are limited.  Apparently there are numerous weapons one can use to hunt deer.  There is the eco-friendly method whereby the eco-mentalist warrior lies naked under a pile of compost and recycled Priuses—not sure if the plural should be Prii, and tries to lay waste to the poor beast by making it listen to an entire Celine Dion CD.  However, this degree of cruelty is banned in fifty-one states.

Of course, there are the more traditional methods using bullets and arrows, although not in combination as this would be redundant.

I did notice a large crowd of mono-eyebrowed men listening to a pitch in one corner of the hall.  I made my way in that direction and listened to a very enthusiastic salesman talking about how to hunt deer with a fly swatter.  “You will find,” he continued “more people will choose to hunt deer with a fly swatter than with any other device.  It is less cumbersome, it is inexpensive, and you do not have to feed it.”

I thought about his agreement as I watched hundreds of men line up to buy fly swatters.  “Has anyone ever killed a deer with a fly swatter?”  I asked.

“Of course not,” the salesman replied in hushed undertones.  “Just because more people buy it does not mean it does what they want it to do.

Segue.  EHR Vendors.  “We have more EHR customers than anyone else.”

“How is your productivity?”  Asked the cynic.

Do not listen to the man selling fly swatters.  It really does not matter which of the top five EHR products you buy.  What matters is how well you install it.

Bzzzzzz….This fly has been bugging me all day.

Shift Happens: A little IT knowledge can kill you

It almost killed me.  Curious?  I lived in Colorado for a dozen years, and spent almost every other weekend in the mountains, fly-fishing, skiing, climbing, and painting—any excuse would do.  Colorado has 54 peaks above fourteen thousand feet.  In my twelve years I climbed most of them.  Some solo; some with friends.

I owned almost everything North Face made, including a down sleeping bag with thermal protection which would have made me sweat on the moon and a one-burner propane stove which cranked out enough BTUs to smelt aluminum.  Two of my friends and I felt we needed a bigger challenge than what Colorado’s peaks offered.

The dot in the photo is me.

We decided on a pair of volcanoes in Mexico, Pico de Orizaba and Popocatépetl—both over 18,000’.  We trained hard because we knew that people who didn’t train died.  We trained with ropes, ice axes, carabineers, and crampons.  One day in early May we arrived at the base of Pico de Orizaba.  The man who drove us to the mountain made us sign the log book, that way they’d know who they were burying.  After a six hour ride from a town with less people than you’d find inside a rural K-Mart, we were deposited at a windowless cinder-block hut—four walls, tin roof, dirt floor.  Base camp.

Before the sun rose we were hiking up ankle-deep volcanic ash; gritty, coarse, black sand.  The sand soon turned in to thigh-deep snow.  We took turns breaking trail, stopping only long enough to refill our water bottles by hand-pumping glacier melt from the runoff in the bottom of cobalt blue ice caverns carved from solid glacier.

Ice Cave we used to collect drinking water

Throughout the trek we passed crude wooden crosses stuck into the ash and snow, serving as grim reminders of those who’d gone before us.

We knew the signs of pulmonary edema, but were reluctant to acknowledge them when we first saw it.  It was about one the following morning when we decided to make camp.  My roommate was having trouble concentrating, and his speech was slightly slurred.  When we asked him if he was ill, he responded much like one would expect an alcoholic would respond when asked if he was okay to drive.  “I’m fine.”

We were at 16,000’, the wind chill had the temperature slightly warmer than a Siberian winter, and the snow made for a whiteout.  The slope seemed to be at about forty-five degrees.  The sheet of ice upon which we stood was slicker than a car salesman selling Corvairs out of his basement.  I removed my tent pole from my pack and placed it on the ice—we were going to camp for the night.  We watched in intellectual confusion as the tent pole gained speed quickly and hurtled down the side of the volcano, quickly lost in the darkness.

Realizing my friend wasn’t doing well, and that I was now feeling somewhat punkish, we made the difficult decision to turn back.  The only survival for edema is to lose enough altitude until you reach one where there is enough air pressure to force the oxygen into the blood.  Eighteen hours of climbing.  Pitch black.  We headed down, me carrying my pack and his, he with our friend.

We arrived at the block hut around four that morning.  By then I was no longer making any sense.  My roommate had recovered, but I had become somewhat delirious—at least that’s what they told me later.  Not knowing right from left or wrong, I was determined to keep walking.  The two of them took turns laying on me to prevent me from sneaking out during the night.

A little knowledge almost killed us.  The scary thing is that we knew what we were doing.  We had trained at altitude, had a plan, worked the plan.  The plan shifted.  Sometimes shift happens.

It happens more with IT.  Much more.  Do you know what the chances are of any IT project ‘working’ that costs more than$7-10 million?  (Working is defined as having a positive ROI, a project that was delivered on time, withing the budget, and delivered the expected results.) (IT includes workflows, change management, training, etc.)  Two in ten.  Twenty percent.  That’s below the Mendosa Line—non baseball fans may have to look up that one.  Remember the last industry conference you attended?  Was it about EHR?  Pretty scary knowing most of them were planning for a failure.

Put your best efforts, your brightest people on planning the EHR.  Make them plan it, then make them plan it again, and then make them defend it, every piece of it.  If they don’t convince you they can do it in their sleep, you had better redo it.  Do they know what they’re planning to do?  Do they know why they’re planning to do it that way?  If they haven’t done it before, this may not be the best time for them to practice.  EHR is not a good project for stretching someone’s capabilities.

Planning is difficult to defend twice during the life of a large program.  First, at the beginning of the program when the C-Suite is in a hurry to see people doing things and signing contracts.  The second time planning is difficult to defend is the moment the C-I-Told-You-Sos are calling for your head for having such an inadequate plan.

How would I approach planning an EHR program for a hospital?  If we started in September, my goal would be to;

  • Have a dedicated and qualified PMO in place in four weeks
  • Begin defining workflows and requirements by October (I’m curious.  For those who have done or are doing this piece, how many FTE’s participated?  I ask because i think chances are good that your number is far fewer than I think would be needed.)
  • Issue a requirements document by mid-January.
  • Be able to recommend a vendor by the end of March.

That seems like a lot of time.  There are plenty who will tell you they can do ‘it’ quicker.  Good for them.  The best factor in your favor right now is time.

Reread this in a year and see where you are…

…See, I told you so.  Anyone want to go hiking?