planning

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

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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

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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

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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?

July is “take your EHR strategy to lunch month”

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Several have written suggesting I toss my hat into the ring to serve as the EHR Strategy wonk or czar.  I was in the process of thinking it through when I was awakened from my fuegue state by a loud noise–my ego crashing to the floor.

Some have suggested that a camel is a horse designed by a committee.  Their point in saying that has something to do with how committees function less well than individuals–the problem with “group thinking.”  Personally, I think the camel design seems rather functional.

Some have asked, what is it about the EHR universe that has you dehorting the EHR process as though you are some sort of savant–nobody really asked that, but I wanted a segue and that’s all I came up with.

It’s the committees.  I feel a little like Quasimodo repining about the bells.  Raise your hand if you are on an EHR committee.  See?  Now, if you think that not only has the committee not accomplished much, but believe that it may never accomplish much, lower your hand.  Now look around.  Not many hands still up.

Take a few minutes and work Meaningful Use into your EHR task time-line for processes, work flows, change management, training.  Need more time?  I’d need more time than I have, and when I finished I guarantee I couldn’t explain it to anyone.  This is what happens when people get into a room, have a charter, and try to do something helpful.  I am sure they are all nice people.  But be honest, does this make your day, or does it make you want to punish your neighbor’s cat–you may have to buy them a cat if they don’t already have one.

What to do?  Here’s my take on it.  Plan.  Evaluate the plan.  Test the plan.  Know before you start that the plan can handle anything any committee tosses your way.  Let people who know how to run large projects into the room.  Seek their counsel, depend on them for their leadership.  If the plan is solid, the result has a better chance of surviving the next committee meeting

What did you budget for EHR?

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Okay, so today was going to be one of those days when I wasn’t going to allow myself to be stupified–at least no more than was really required.

Then it sneaks up smack dab in the middle of a call, and from what I’ve been able to determine, people find it annoying if you burst out laughing on the call.  (They are not annoyed at all if you simply write about them provided they don’t read it.)

What got me going is this statement, “We’ve budgeted $X for EHR.”

Really?  You did this all by yourself?

The facts as I understood them are as follows:

  • Never bought an EHR
  • Don’t know how big they are, if they are blue or green, come gift-wrapped, or if you need two people to carry it
  • No input from vendors about EHR
  • no discussions with others about what an EHR system costs

So, with absolutely no information how does one determine how much they need to spend?  This is not like going to the supermarket for a gallon of Soy Milk–not that anyone would want to do that.

Who lost the ‘R’ in EHR’s ROI?

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This is my latest post in healthsystemcio.com.

http://healthsystemcio.com/2011/07/14/standardization-lies-beyond-the-clinical-realm/#

As a parent I’ve learned there are two types of tasks–those my children won’t do the first time I ask them, and those they won’t do no matter how many times I ask them.  Here’s the segue.

Let’s agree for the moment that workflows can be parsed into two groups—Easily Repeatable Processes (ERPs) and Barely Repeatable Processes (BRPs). (I read about this concept online via Sigurd Rinde.)

An example of an ERP industry is manufacturing. Healthcare, in many respects, is a BRP industry. BRPs are characterized by collaborative events, exception handling, ad-hoc activities, extensive loss of information, little knowledge acquired and reused, and untrustworthy processes. They involve unplanned events, knowledge work, and creative work—artistes.

Then there are the ERPs.  Remember The Flintstones and I Love Lucy?  Fred Flintstone was looking at a job advert for someone to put cotton in pill bottles; and Lucy got a job boxing bon bons.  ERPs are the easy business process to map, model, and structure. They are the perfect processes for large enterprise software vendors to automate.

EHRs contain both types of business processes, BRPs and ERPs.

How can you tell what type of business processes you are trying to incorporate in your EHR? Here’s one way. If the person standing next to you at Starbucks could watch you work and accurately describe the process, it’s probably an ERP.

So, why discuss ERP and BRP in the same sentence with EHR?  The reason is simple. The taxonomy of most, if not all EHR systems, is that EHRs are designed to support ERPs. Unfortunately, most of the business processes that the EHR has to model are one-off processes, BRPs.  Healthcare providers are faced with the quintessential square peg in a round hole conundrum; trying to fit BRPs into an ERP system.

Since much of the ROI in the EHR comes from being able to redesign the workflows, it stands to reason that the ‘R’ in ROI will be sacrificed, and the ‘I’ will be much higher than planned.

On the other hand, if one looks at a hospital’s non-clinical business processes almost all of those are ERPs.  Many of them are some combination of being outdated, duplicated, and rework.  If you are looking to recover your ROI and to decrease cost, these ERPs offer a good opportunity to do both.

What do you think?

 

Suicide: The Hospital Business Model

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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 I opted for 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.  I then 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 albeit not often a friendly service.  One of my early clients was the CFO of one of the country’s largest movie theater chains.  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 NetFlix.  Netflix are making lots of money and they do not even offer popcorn or JuJuBes.

Continental and United merged.  Did that make things better?  Did they stop charging for bags?  Did they offer free meals?  More seat room?  Of course not.  Combined, they are losing 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 or start offering JuJuBes.

 

Healthcare’s pre-mortem

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I call this my premortem of the large provider business model.  The new reform law is Washington’s Anschluss of the healthcare business model—the annexation of the old way of doing business.  With change, as with writing a novel, the most difficult part is to invent the end.  It is only difficult if someone actually gets to that part, the end.  Many large providers remain mired in the first chapter.

The term Ultima Thule refers to any distant place located beyond the “borders of the known world.”  That is where we are when it comes to trying to understand the implications in the realm of the known and unknown external influences on the business model of the large healthcare provider.  I tend to have a stygian mindset about how I think these influences will play out—when Washington sneezes, it is the providers who catch the cold.

Sometimes it is a matter of asking the right questions.  Unfortunately, when one asks questions, somebody always has answers.  The bad thing about answers is they often bring closure to the process of thinking.  In the short-term there may be a modus Vivendi between us—an agreement to agree to disagree, but in the long-term limiting one’s vision to the borders of the known world will prove fatal.

Gone are healthcare’s Elysian moments when leaders thought they could keep doing what they were doing as long as they did it a little better.  At some point, there are no more costs to cut.  Providers will not be able to get any Leaner.  The time has come to square the circle—something proven impossible in 1882 by Ferdinand Lindemann.  Squaring the circle is an attempt to construct a square with the same area of a given circle using Euclidian geometry.

Trying to retrofit today’s healthcare model to meet tomorrow’s business requirements seems to me to be a similar argument.  It can’t be done; you can’t get there from here.  That it cannot be done won’t stop people from trying.  The impossibility cannot be proven.  The proof will be apparent only when hospitals start to fail.  Only then will it be possible to “walk back the cat” to diagnostically deconstruct what failed hospitals should have done.

A purpose of intelligence is the ability to assess and predict.  The application of thinking and intelligence is the ability to assign relative importance to predictions.  Here’s my assessment and prediction.

To successfully change the large provider model one must disrupt it, not simply adjust it.  It has nothing to do with asking, “How can we do this better?” disruption requires that we ask, “Do we need to do this?”

For example, last week I met with the former CFO of a group of east-coast hospitals.  Each hospital had an orthopedic department.  The group also owned an orthopedic clinic.  The clinic was ranked among the top twenty orthopedic centers in the US.  None of the hospitals’ orthopedic departments was ranked in the top one hundred.  The CFO recommended the hospitals close their orthopedic departments and service those patients at the clinic.  This would improve quality and eliminate duplicative costs.  Great idea.  Unfortunately the board liked their hospitals to be able to offer all things to all people—quality and cost be damned.

Why?

Is it time to fire Winston?

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I was reporting to the board—or bored—sometimes it is the same.  The mission: figure out what was wrong, and then fix it.

I spent weeks talking to everyone from the executives to the receptionist.  I interviewed patients and physicians.  The doctors were not happy, the patients less so.  Costs were up, charges were down, and quality was down.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns…

The problem was easy to decipher.  I presented my findings.

“What do you recommend?” asked the chair of the audit committee.

I tried to look lost in thought.  “I fired Winston,” I replied.

“Why Winston?”

“Winston was where it all led; quality, cost, satisfaction.  Winston was responsible for the failures.”

Several members of the board nodded, and spoke among themselves.

After several minutes I jumped back into the fray.  “The more I think about it, the more I think Winston may be salvageable—not in the same role but somewhere else in the organization.  The employees really like him.  Besides, it’s the holidays.  Do you really want to be the reason Winston is not able to buy presents for the kids?”

The board held an in camera discussion.  “Agreed.”

I knew they would.  I started with my actual presentation.  “There is no Winston.”  The Winstons scattered around the table looked perplexed.  They were looking for the easy answer to the problems in their organization, they were looking for themselves.

Who are your Winstons?

Strategy–The land of small ideas

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Hangin’ by a thread

“It will feel better when it quits hurtin’.” Well duh.  It will also feel better when we stop self-inflicting the hurt.

To help me understand how things work I need to decompose issues, not into small parts, but into a series of pictures or shapes.  The pictures I come up with represent my particular perspective of how things look.  That can be a far cry from how others view them.  Maybe that stems from when I was a child and enjoying putting puzzles together upside down.

Instead if hitting myself over the head with a hammer, I set aside the easy pieces—those with straight edges and the four corners.

The puzzle was equally complete no matter whether you worked with the picture or just the shapes, but the exercise was quite different.  The advantage in doing it my way is that upon staring at 500 pieces of cardboard backing I had to bring different problem solving skills to the table.  The disadvantage is that once I could picture the solution in my mind, I lost all interest in completing the last few pieces of the puzzle.

I find myself looking at coming up with a reasoned approach for attacking the large provider healthcare business model.  Puzzle pieces are scattered across my desk; some right-side up, others right-side down.

Here’s where the process breaks down or breaks up—I am sure the direction is irrelevant.  How does one change someone that either does not want to change or one who thinks change is not needed?

Just because you think you’re being followed does not mean you are paranoid—it could mean you are the only one with enough focus to know what is happening.  Charging someone eight dollars for a bag of popcorn to keep your business afloat is not insightful, frankly, it is embarrassing.  Charging forty dollars to check a bag on a plane does not earn a CEO the Baldridge Award, it only allows the airline to lose less money, to stave off inevitable bankruptcy a little bit longer.  Eastern, Pan-Am, Braniff, TWA, Republic, Northwest, Piedmont, Midway, Independence.  They proved the same thing.  Continuing to use the same failed strategy delivered the same failed result.  Just because the first five people to jump off the garage roof couldn’t fly doesn’t mean you can’t.  Or does it?  Bigger wasn’t better, was it?

What does it cost to fly from New York to Seattle?  It depends.  What does it cost to have an angioplasty on Philadelphia?  It depends.  Did the airlines adopt their pricing model from hospitals, or was it the other way around?  Does it matter?  Probably not.

The land of small ideas, like Monty Python’s silly walks.  Somebody actually comes up with these ideas.  I doubt it is someone on the board.  People who lead do not one day lose their marbles and decry, “Our model is not working, let’s start charging passengers if they sit during the flight.”

If staying afloat requires a hospital to charge eight dollars a unit for Tylenol, the land of small ideas is winning.