Patient Relationship Management (PRM)-why men can’t boil water

There was a meeting last week of the scions of the Philadelphia business community. The business leaders began to arrive at the suburban enclave at the appointed hour. The industries they represented included medical devices, automotive, retail, pharmaceutical, chemicals, and management consulting. No one at their respective organizations was aware of the clandestine meeting. These men were responsible for managing millions of dollars of assets, overseeing thousands of employees, and the fiduciary responsibility of international conglomerates. Within their ranks they had managed mergers and acquisitions and divestitures. They were group with which to be reckoned and their skills were the envy of many.

They arrived singularly, each bearing gifts. Keenly aware of the etiquette, they removed their shoes and placed them neatly by the door.

The pharmaceutical executive was escorted to the kitchen.

“Did your wife make you bring that?” I asked.

He glanced quickly at the cellophane wrapped cheese ball, and sheepishly nodded. “What are we supposed to do with those?” He asked as he eyeballed the brightly wrapped toothpicks that looked banderillas, the short barbed sticks a matador would use.

“My wife made me put them out,” I replied. “She said we should use these with the hors d’oeuvres.”

He nodded sympathetically; he too had seen it too many times. I went to the front door to admit the next guest. He stood there holding two boxes of wafer thin, whole wheat crackers. Our eyes met, knowingly, as if to say, “Et Tu Brutus”. The gentleman following him was a senior executive in the automotive industry. He carried a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. And so it went for the next 15 to 20 minutes, industry giants made to look small by the gifts they were forced to carry.

The granite countertop was lined with the accoutrements for the party. “It’s just poker,” I had tried to explain. My explanation had fallen on deaf ears. There is a right way and a wrong way to entertain, I had been informed. Plates, utensils, and napkins were lined up at one end of the counter, followed in quick succession by the crock pot of chili that had been brewing for some eight hours, the cheese tray, a nicely arrayed platter of crackers, assorted fruits, a selection of anti-pastas, cups, ice, and a selection of beverages. In the mind of our wives, independent of what we did for a living and the amount of power and responsibility we each wielded, we were incapable of making it through a four hour card game without their intervention.

I deftly stabbed a gherkin with my tooth pick. “Hey,” I hollered “put a coaster under that glass. Are you trying to get us all in trouble? And you,” I said to Pharmacy Boy, “Get a napkin and wipe up the chili you spilled. She’ll be back here in four hours, and we have to have this place looking just as good as when she left.”  I thought I was having the neighborhood guys over for poker; I was wrong. So were each of the other guys. We had been outwitted by our controllers, our spouses. Nothing is ever as simple as it first appears. We didn’t even recognize we were being managed until they made themselves known.

Who’s managing the show at your hospital, you or the patients?  The answer to that question depends on who owns the relationship, who controls the dialog.  If most of the conversation about your organization originates with them, the best you are doing is reacting to them as they initiate the social media spin, or try to respond once the phone started ringing.  It’s a pretty ineffective way of managing.  It’s as though they dealt the cards, and they know ahead of time that you are holding nothing.

There are times when my manager isn’t home, times when I wear my shoes inside the house—however, I wear little cloth booties over them to make certain I don’t mar the floor.  One time when I decided to push the envelope, I didn’t even separate the darks from the whites when I did the laundry.  We got in an hour of poker before I broke out the mop and vacuum.  One friend tried to light a cigar—he will be out of the cast in a few weeks.

Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

saint Paul M. Roemer
Chief Imaginist, Healthcare IT Strategy

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

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Contact me: Google Talk/paulroemer Skype/paulroemer Google Wave/paulroemer

Why Google, Apple & Microsoft will win the EMR battle

In the next few years, brick and mortar, immobile physician-centric EMRs and EHRs—those large EHR systems implemented by healthcare providers residing on large systems will be supplanted by portable patient-centric EMRs residing on a next generation of super smart devices—we call them smart phones today.  The limited functionality of today’s Personal Health Records (PHRs) will be replaced by these portable patient-centric EMRs; EMRs that are cloud-based and accessed through super functional next generation smart devices—the grandchildren of the iPhone and the Droid.  Why do I think that is the case?  Please keep reading.

Five billion people voluntarily purchased cell phones.  Initially, consumers had to be convinced they needed cell phones.  The uptake was slow.  Something changed, compelling us to buy cell phones.  We initially bought cell phones not because we needed phones, but because we wanted convenience—we bought convenience.  What made it convenient?  Portability.

Not much changed for several years—not until Palm created a phone-sized portable device that could do other cool things.  Then Blackberry took it one step further—a device that could handle basic email and phone calls.

Very recently, piggybacking on the success of the iPod, Apple redefined the market for smart devices.  They did not set out to build a phone, or a web browser, or a MP3 player, or an email client, or a SMS device—or a device designed to do all of those specific tasks.  Instead they built a device capable of doing just one thing—securely and wirelessly sending and receiving ones and zeros.  Those ones and zeros became emails, faxes, internet interaction, downloading and playing music, videos, images, calls, text messages, and data.  Apple also paved the way for other firms to have customers download thousands of other ones and zeroes applications.  The iPhone device simply sends, receives, reads and writes ones and zeroes.

Phone calls on the smart device (the iPhone) are but a small subset of the device’s total usage.  This breakthrough is what I think of as the “Transport Phase,” moving ones and zeros from point A to point B, reassembling them, and recreating the same thing on the other end.

In the last two years, we have seen the maturing of the Transport Phase whereby the device is even smarter, faster, has more storage and actually performs tasks.  It appears to infer and learn.  It is capable of gaming and GPS functions.  It performs more tasks than the computer on the Saturn rocket.  Last year Google made its debut with the Droid.  It is open and operating in a cloud.  The smart device’s features and usage are so ubiquitous that the pricing model commoditized.

Today’s devices can operate more than one hundred thousand apps—including hundreds of medical applications.  The vast majority of the healthcare applications are for doctors and clinicians.  Very few healthcare applications are available to customers (patients) and there is no PHR for any of the devices.

This will change, and change in a big way.  The smart device many call a phone can do things nobody envisioned ten years ago.  Those “experts” were wrong.  We have a new set of experts today.  They claim:

  • PHRs offer little value
  • PHRs have been slowly accepted by the mainstream
  • There are no good healthcare apps on smart devices for patients
  • There are no PHR apps on smart devices
  • There is no such thing as an EMR on a smart device

My take?  They are correct on all five claims—today.  What else of note is underway?  The launch of the iPad.  Bad name choice.  I would have called it the iGoogle, but neither firm would go for that.  Why the iGoogle?  Stick with me on this.  Google is in the process of transcribing every written word and digitizing the great works of art—ones and zeroes.

What did Apple do?  Apple did one thing—their new smart device made Google’s library potable.  Portable.  Ones and zeroes, colored text and images can now reside on a one and a half pound tablet one a device with a thickness of one half inch.  Complaints—it’s not a computer, it cannot take pictures, it cannot make calls.  Not yet.

Yesterday calls (ones and zeroes) were made portable, as were text messages, emails, videos, and GPS.  Tomorrow, today will be yesterday.  Look forward a thousand tomorrows.

What exactly are the electronic medical records flying around in ERHs costing hundreds of millions of dollars?  Ones and zeroes.  Nothing more.  Oh, did I mention these institutionalized EMRs are immobile.  The plan calls for them to be portable—a billion here and a billion there.  Maybe it comes down to what kind of portability you think Americans will adopt.

I think two things are in store for healthcare.  In the near-term, stationary hospital-centric EMRs and EHRs will begin to be replaced with portable patient-centric EMRs residing on super smart devices owned by individuals.  Point two; the limited functionality of today’s immobile Personal Health Records (PHRs) will be replaced by portable patient-centric EMRs, EMRs that are cloud-based and accessed through super functional next generation smart devices.  These devices will be the offspring of the iPhone, the Droid, and the iPad.  EMR functionality will be available, along with the existing functionality on these super smart devices.  Customers will not need to buy a separate device to make their EMRs portable.  They will simply gain access to that functionality when they purchase the next generation phone-camera-notebook-tablet-MP3-EMR.

Just because PHRs can’t do much today doesn’t mean PHRs won’t evolve to become tomorrow’s EMRs and EHRs.  PHRs will be replaced by EMRs in the same way mere voice applications have been supplemented by multitudes of additional powerful applications.

What business drivers will make this happen?  Apple, Google, and Microsoft are huge corporations, corporations with which almost everyone currently does business.  They are not healthcare companies.  They do not operate like the government.  They know how to build and market very high-tech, glitzy devices packed with the functionality their customers demand.  Customers line up outside of stores for days to be the first to have one.  Hospitals and physicians are not doing that to install EHRs.

Why do PHRs exist?  They exist as a way for these companies to establish a foothold in healthcare, to have their customers begin to associate their healthcare records with the likes of Apple and Google.  They know there is very little money to be made with PHRs.  The revenues will come to them as the functionality evolves the PHR into the EMR.

Measured in today’s dollars, the average US resident will spend about $650,000 on healthcare during their life, or about $8,000 a year.  Eight thousand a year doesn’t seem like much until you extrapolate it.  Eight thousand a year times three hundred and fifty million people comes out to an annual healthcare expenditure of about three trillion dollars.

Let’s compare that $8,000 a year figure to what we spend in other areas.  The average annual phone bill is around $700.  The average cable bill is $1,000; electric—$1,200.

What if these companies developed a way to build a secure, HIPAA compliant, portable EMR application that could be accessed using the next generation of the super smart device we get in line to purchase?  In addition to everything else it can do, the device will have secure access to clouds to access, update, and transport electronic medical records—combining the future functionality of the tablet and open architecture of smart devices like the Droid.

What if firms like Apple and Google made these next-gen super smart devices available for free?  This approach is almost identical to the current model of highly discounting smart phones to lock customers into service agreements.  Why would Apple and Google give away the super smart device?   The reason to give it away only makes sense if the real business opportunity is so large that the money they would have earned from the device is a drop in the bucket compared to the downstream revenues.

What if firms like Apple, Google, and Microsoft devise a way to earn a transaction fee of one percent for each dollar of healthcare services that either comes in through their device or goes out over it?  That is how phone usage is billed.  Companies bill for ones and zeroes sent and received.  They do not care what information those ones and zeroes contain.

The model of providing devices to consumers for free is no different than giving away toothbrushes to sell toothpaste.  The bulk of the revenues come not from the device; but from what consumers do with the device.  A one percent transaction fee applied to the three trillion dollar healthcare market is a thirty billion dollar business.  That’s a pretty good chunk of change for coming up with another service facilitated by moving around ones and zeroes.

Let’s suppose for a minute that as consumers adopt this model that these same corporations, using cloud computing, succeed in building an interoperable healthcare network, the same network the federal government plans to spend billions to develop.  The companies do not need to build it, it exists today—the internet—and it exists wirelessly.  The government just announced the development of a supercharged internet.

This makes Health Information Exchanges (HIEs) and the National Health Information Network (N-HIN) obsolete before they are even built.  As a result of having built the network, and having equipped customers with these EMR capable devices—next generation super smart devices—these firms then own the entire EMR food chain.  Might these firms then be able to garner some kind of usage rights to clean medical data, data that has been scrubbed so as to make it anonymous, data which they can sell to payors, providers, the government, and pharma?  It’s all about the healthcare data, or at least it will be.

The business opportunity is data usage, transporting ones and zeroes.  Data usage is what Apple and Google sell—the portable devices are simply a means to an end.  According to, Apple’s revenues just from its App Store exceeded $2.4 billion in 2009—pretty good money for a start up, a start up that uses a super smart device.

Microsoft doesn’t sell computers.  It sells ideas.  Microsoft is an enabler.  It sells the ability to allow people to do more and more things.  The idea about which I write is no different from Microsoft’s, Apple’s and Google’s current business models.  The smart devices, sell data, data transport, and data usage—ones and zeros.

The difficulty healthcare providers have with today’s approach to EMRs and EHRs is they are focused on now, on today.  They are costly, immobile, hurting productivity, and are driven from the top down—the government.

What if this idea comes to pass, or even something close to it?  What does that mean for physicians?  More than anything else it means physicians will face patients who will take more responsibility for their health, patients whose medical records are stored on the same smart device as their Rolling Stones records.  Physicians will be able to beam the patient’s EMR to their own EMR capable super smart device.  The demand for EMRs will shift from building immobile EHRs that may meet today’s business requirements—to a patient driven demand for portable EMR devices that will meet tomorrow’s requirements, devices which in addition to containing EMRs will meet there other smart device requirements.  It is those other requirements which will drive consumption, the EMR functionality will be a bonus.

I think in five years terms like Meaningful Use, Certification, HIEs, and incentives will be outdated.  The C-suite should be looking at what lies ahead, not at what will be outdated by the time a monolith EHR-NHIN has been implemented.

What do you think?

saint Paul M. Roemer
Chief Imaginist, Healthcare IT Strategy

My profiles: LinkedInWordPressTwitterMeetupBlog RSS
Contact me: Google Talk/paulroemer Skype/paulroemer Google Wave/paulroemer


I remember the first time I entered their home I was taken aback by the clutter. Spent and wet leaves and small branches were strewn across the floors and furniture. Black Hefty trash bags stood against the walls filled with last year’s leaves. Dozens of bright orange buckets from Home Depot sat beneath the windows. The house always felt cold, very cold. After a while I learned to act normally around the clutter.

There came a time however when I simply had to ask, “Why all the buckets? What’s the deal with the leaves?”

“We try hard to keep the place neat,” she replied.

“Where does it all come from?” I asked.

“The windows.”

I looked at her somewhat askance. “I’m not sure I follow,” I replied as I began to feel uneasy.

“It’s not like we like living this way; the water, the cold, the mess. It costs a fortune to heat this place.

And, the constant bother of emptying the buckets, and the sweeping of the leaves.”

“Why don’t you shut your windows? It seems like that would solve a lot of your problems.”

She looked like I had just tossed her cat in a blender.

When you see something abnormal often enough it becomes normal. Sort of like in the movie The Stepford Wives.  Sort of like Patient Relationship Management (PRM). The normal has been subsumed by the abnormal, and in doing so is slowing devouring the resources of the hospital.

Are you kidding me? I wish. It’s much easier to see this as a consultant than it is if you are drinking the Kool Aid daily. When I talk to people about a statistic that indicates that 500 people called yesterday about their bill, and everyone looks calm and collected, it makes me feel like I must be the only one in the room who doesn’t get it—again with The Stepford Wives.

saint Paul M. Roemer
Chief Imaginist, Healthcare IT Strategy

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

My profiles: LinkedInWordPressTwitterMeetupBlog RSS
Contact me: Google Talk/paulroemer Skype/paulroemer Google Wave/paulroemer

If I ask about it they always have an answer.  “Billing calls are usually around 500 a day.”  They say that with a straight face as though they are waiting to see if I will drink the Kool Aid. It’s gotten to the point where no matter how bad things get, as long as they are consistently bad, there not bad at all.

This is the mindset that enables the PRM manager (I know you don’t have one—I am being facetious) to be fooled by their own metrics. When is someone going to understand that repeatedly having thousands of people calling to tell your organization you have a problem, means you have a problem?

It would probably take less than a week to pop something on your web site, and post a YouTube video explaining how to read the bill.  Next week, do the same thing and help patients understand how to file claims and disputes—granted, you may need more than a week for this one.

Who is minding your patients, your equity?

Did I mention that I like to sing? No? Don’t tell anyone, but I just downloaded some Tom Jones to my MP3 so I can belt out a rendition of Delilah while I’m running—I only do this when I’m certain nobody is around. This doesn’t quite foot with my college collection of albums from Pink Floyd, Genesis, and Queen.

Then there was the time I was on a date at a roller rink. I was probably dressed in a pair of tight fitting bell-bottoms, an equally tight fitting rayon shirt unbuttoned to who knows where—hold the laughter. My almost shoulder length hair half-hid a puka shell necklace.

It may be important to know that although I had ice skated, I had never roller skated. There are a few not so subtle differences between the two.  Most notably, the sadist who designed the roller skate must have thought it amusing to place a large round rubberized wheel on the front of the skate in much the same position as a car bumper. I have no idea what is supposed to do. What it does do is stop you on a dime, especially when you have no intent of stopping.

Let’s see if we can tie some of this together. I’ve never felt that I actually needed to know how to do something in order to develop my own unsubstantiated delusions of adequacy—that probably explains why I’ve been consulting all these years. Anyway, back at the roller rink.

Barry Manilow’s “I Write the Songs” was being piped overhead through speakers the size of a dishwasher. Feeling much too confident for my abilities, I dragged my date to the floor. We stood side by side. I grasped her hands in a crisscrossed fashion like I had seen skaters do on television. After circling the rink for half a lap—watching my feet the entire way—I thought I should further dazzle her by singing. I should point out that it is difficult to sing and simultaneously watch your feet, a fact I didn’t learn until I was airborne. This takes me back to the rubber wheel on the front of the roller skate. We crashed to the floor and quickly took out the next thirty or so couples who were following us. It looked like a conga line run amuck. For the next hour or so it seemed like everyone in the rink pointed at me as though they were trying to warn others to stay away.

I haven’t sung any Manilow since that fabled night. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that times change and tastes change. Now I listen to groups like Dashboard Confessional and Great Lake Swimmers. I still interface with those closeted Manilow fans. Gone are the bell-bottoms and platform shoes, replaced by micro-fiber trousers, Droids, and Cole Hahns. My collar-length hair has a more monastic cut.

I’ve aged, so has my generation.  Aged to the point where they now have the power. Those people own the decision making process in most hospitals.  They may be the people calling the shots in yours. How can you tell if the person wearing the eighties polyester is one of them? Walk past her humming a few bars of Mandy or Copacabana, or something from The Captain and Tennille, and see if she hums back.

Is your Patient Equity Management (PEM) strategy is as dated as the double knits?  Or did I get ahead of myself; does your hospital even have a PEM strategy?  Odds are that there is no PEM strategy, no PEM group or executive.

Hospitals are quite good at managing their assets.  I bet your hospital has someone who can tell you how many chairs, televisions, beds and bed pans you have.  Assets.  We count them because we don’t want to lose them.  That is how businesses are managed.

In today’s dollars over their lifetime the average person in the US will spend more than $600,000 on healthcare.  Patients.  Assets.  They are a big part of your hospital’s equity base.

Who is minding your patients, your equity?  I don’t mean the doctors and nurses.  Who is responsible for making sure discharged patients return to you the next time they need a hospital?  Who manages that relationship for the hundreds of days between hospital visits?  Probably nobody; at least nobody in your organization.  Wanna’ bet somebody in the hospital on the other side of town is studying how to turn that $600,000 patient into one of theirs?

In case you’re wondering, the episode at the skating rink was our last date.

In accordance with the prophecy

Counting me, there were six of us; college spies. Maybe that is a grammatical error; we were spies who happened to be in college. Well, maybe that’s a half-truth. We were co-op students with rather high security clearances, working at a place in the DC area which made the type of things of which Nancy Pelosi would deny having any knowledge. I was a mathematics intern—not a bad step on the rungs of the career ladder given that the dean of my math department had tried on more than one occasion to get me to change majors. Everyone I worked with had at least a PhD in math. At least I had enough firing synapses to know I would never be their intellectual peer.

During the summers, we six would report at one of the complex’s gates, flash our badges at the marine guards, make our way past the military weapons testing facilities, and head to our basement offices. At lunch time we’d break out our briefcases, and take out our tools of the trade—Frisbees, bag lunch, sun tan oil (this was in the days before anyone could spell SPF, pure Hawaiian Tropic.) Within minutes we’d be stripped down to our cutoffs, running across the field where the helicopters landed, and dripping with sweat. After lunch we’d help draft differential equations whose aim was to read target signatures sent from one of our missiles at a Soviet or Chinese aircraft. Not a bad gig if you can get it.

That was then. Now we are aging adolescents clinging woefully to rapidly fading images of summers past, whose idea of getting wasted is drinking multiple espressos. Gone are the days where we could abnegate responsibility. We matured, at least a lot of us. We’ve learned pretending you know what you’re doing is almost the same as knowing what you are doing. We’ve accepted it to the extent that we act like we know what we’re doing even if we don’t and, we do it.

Pretending is a skill. Guys do it all the time, secretly hoping no one will notice. People who answer your hospital phones do it too. Sometimes patients will settle for an answer; any answer. It’s sort of like bluffing in Trivial Pursuit—if you bluff with enough confidence, your opponent may not even check your answer. For some patient questions, there are three states of being; not knowing, action and completion. The goal is to move as rapidly as possible from the first state to the third. If the patient proves to be a problem, the patient care rep should finish each sentence with the phrase, “In accordance with the prophecy.”

Of course, if face-to-face interaction proves to be too much, you can always tighten up the dialog. For example;



Welcome to the Patient Care Hotline.

If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press 1 repeatedly.

If you are codependent, please ask someone to press 2.

If you have multiple personalities, please press 3, 4, 5 and 6.

If you are paranoid-delusional, we know who you are and what you want.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully to the little voice until it tells you which number to press.

If you are manic-depressive, it doesn’t matter which number you press. No one will answer.

If you are delusional and hallucinate, please be aware that the thing you are holding on the side of your head is alive and about to bite off your ear.

Thanks for calling.

Patient Relationship Management–A 12-step program

The room was filled with the aroma of stale coffee. The anxious looking guests made idle conversation, averting their eyes so as not to look into the eyes of the person next to them. The folding metal chairs were arrayed in a circle. At the appointed time they sat.
A man with a hardened look stood to speak. “Hi. My name is John, and I haven’t spoken to a patient in four months.” As he began to sit, the others responded in unison, “Hi John.”

The rotund woman across from him rose and composed herself. “My name is Mary, and I haven’t spoken with a patient today.”

“Hi Mary.”

This same process occurred until all who wanted had said their piece. Hospital executives. Male and female. Some had earned their stripes caring for patients.  Others, even though they were in charge, had never met one. Recovering clinicians and physicians.

The good news is that the program works. The longer the executive goes without speaking to a patient, the longer they are likely to go. The break-even point seems to be about two weeks, the same amount of time it takes to paint a house. Once an executive has gone two weeks without speaking to a patient, there is almost no chance of slipping into that nasty old habit.

When was the last time you caught one of your executives sneaking a chat with a patient?  Probably never. Old habits aren’t so tough to break, especially when those habits never existed.

The parabolic parable

The bad thing about being a former mathematician in my case is that the emphasis is on the word former. Sometimes I’m convinced I’ve forgotten more than I ever learned.—sort of like the concept of negative numbers. It’s funny how the mind works, or in my case goes on little vacations without telling me. This whole parabola thing came to me while I was running, and over the next few miles of my run I tried to reconstruct the formula for a parabola. No luck.

My mind shut that down and went off on something that at least sounded somewhat similar, parables. That got me to thinking, and all of a sudden I was focused on the parable of the lost sheep, the one where a sheep wanders off and the shepherd leaves his flock to go find the lost one, which brings us to where we are today.

Sheep and effort.  Let’s rewind for a second. Permit me to put the patient lifecycle into physics for librarian style language—get the patient, keep the patient, lose the patient.  These are the three basic boxes where providers focus resources. How well do we do in managing that lifecycle to our advantage? We have marketing and sales to get the patient, we have patients care to keep the patient.  Can anyone tell me the name of the group whose job it is to lose the patient?  Sorry, I should have said to not lose the patient. Freudian—actually, we probably have our pet names for the department who we fault for patients leaving.

Where do most providers spend the majority of their intellectual capital and investment dollars? Hint—watch their commercials. It’s to get the patient. Out comes the red carpet. They get escorted in with the white glove treatment. Once they’re in, the gloves come off, to everyone’s detriment. Nobody ever sees the red carpet again. A high percentage of a firm’s budget is to get the patients, and another large chuck for existing patients. Almost nothing is spent to retain exiting patients.

Existing versus exiting. Winning providers roll out the red carpet when patients exit. They do this for two reasons. One, it may cause a patient to return. Two, it changes the conversation. Which conversation? The one your ex-patient is about to have with the rest of the world. How does your firm want that conversation to go?

An idea for improving Patient Relationship Management

This won’t solve all of your problems, but it’s a good start–sort of like 1,000 lawyers on the bottom of the ocean.

Who knows, perhaps your organization is included.

Have you lost the social media turf war to your patients?

Remember as kids trying to see how many bumble bees you could catch in a jar before you panicked and they all got lose? You couldn’t get the top all the way on and all of a sudden dozens of bees exited the jar as you raced across the field of clover. That’s how patients are. You try and catch as many as you can, but once they get out it’s over. So, here we go again. Social networking. We’ll get there in a moment.

For those old enough to remember the seventies, what are you able to recall about high school? If you’re like me, much of it’s selective. The web seems to be changing some of that. Facebook. Ever notice how there are no rules? Anyone can get to anyone else. Unhindered. Uninvited.

There are those who never grew up, and there are those who never grew older–there’s a difference. Sometimes it’s a good thing. Like for instance trading emails with the girl in the red velvet dress, the one with whom you first slow danced in the ninth grade.

Then there’s the other side to the social networking coin. A darker side. Unless you happened to be among the minutia of students who gambolled care freely down the crowded halls during those four years believing that the school year book should only contain your picture, graduating high school gave you your out, gave you permission to euphemistically bury the bourgeoisie who needed burying. People who, when you were eighteen wouldn’t put you out if you were on fire, the very people who probably set you ablaze, now knock digitally on your facebook door asking to befriend you. Did I miss something here? The part where my fabebook-buddy-wannabe says, “Now that we’re grownup, forget I was a jerk in high school, ignore the fact that I was dumber than a bowl of mice”—sounds like I may have missed one or two of my twelve-step meetings. Recovery is progressing well—really.

Just because a hospital is paranoid doesn’t mean their customers don’t hate them. Poltergeists. The undead. The kind of customers you’d hope you’d never hear from. And yet, those are the very ones who bother to write about their experience. They Twitter, and blog, and YouTube your organization. Don’t take my word for it.  Run a search and see what you find.  More is being said about you than you are saying about yourself.  That means you are losing the social media turf war, you don’t control the high ground or the conversation.

Patients come back and haunt deliberately. Their haunts are reflected in lower satidfaction, fewer repeat visits, and higher churn. Isn’t technology great?

can you apply social media to Patient Relationship Management (PRM)

A consultant was on one side of the river; his client was on the other side. The client hollered, “How do I get to the other side?”  The consultant thought for a moment and hollered back, “You are on the other side.”—don’t try this at home kids, we’re professionals.

It goes without saying that rarely am I regarded as one with a high capacity of tolerance.   When things get tough or when meetings are exceedingly dull I like to go to my happy place. Sometimes I get to go to my happy place when I least expect it. Like the time my coffee machine started leaking all over the floor.

Having met such unheralded success repairing my mixer, naturally I took apart my Capresso coffee maker. Not many parts. I put it back together thinking the simple act of dismembering it might have caused it to self-heal. Fill it. Turn it on. Puddle. I called Capresso started to explain my problem. Before I had a chance to finish the rep told me what caused the problem, asked for my address, and said they would mail a new gasket overnight for free, as in F-R-E-E. No proof of purchase needed.

Talk about managing the customer experience and taking the lead on social networking.  What types of things could you be doing to improve Patient Relationship Management (PRM)?  How could social networking help you improve PRM?

Let’s talk.