I decided that enough was enough. The beach called us and we listened.
About four weeks ago, the COO of St. Gonzo's announced his upcoming departure. With two senior administrators gone, I figured it was now or never for a MUCH-needed break. I don't sleep past 3:30 a.m. anymore. I work so much my eyeballs blur and the bags under my eyes resemble soybeans. I'm grateful for the chance to inspire great change in healthcare but I'm getting a little tired of the cold sweats that spontaneous appear when I'm more than 21" from my phone.
One of our very best friends, Mr. Vera (husband of Vera) had a massive heart attack. Then he walked around for about five weeks and even visited Jack and I in Indy. He had 100% blockage in his right coronary artery and we're not sure how he's still with us today. After a harrowing visit to the cath lab, they cleared the blockage and he is at home recovering.
Yet, he keeps sharing his story with me, forcing it to sink in. You see, the reason we're such good friends with Vera and Mr. Vera is because they are the opposite to Jack and me. Vera and Jack are the chefs who love experimenting with homemade herb rubs on fabulous steaks. While they're dinkin' around the kitchen, Mr. Vera and I talk shop. He's a hospital administrator and at one point, we had about the same position at our respective hospitals.
That's why I'm suddenly scared. And very glad I'm on my way to the beach without the proverbial access to work email. I can easily, far too easily, see myself in his shoes and no one's going to take care of me and my awful work/life balance but me.
I've suddenly become good friends with my chief radiologist at work. We have a sisterly vibe and she's one of the few people in my life who's willing to call me out. SHE even pulled me aside and told me to cool it. Over dinner one night last week, she shared some tidbits from her own life, about her experience with crumbling relationships because people are just too busy. It's during those times that I feel really grateful for Jack. He's my Type B, relaxed Joe who forces me to slow down (except when he steals my iPad and I chase him around our new house!). Point being: Jack has been telling me for years to "chill the heck out."
Healthcare is only getting more difficult as we have to do so much more with fewer staff and resources. I hate Obamacare (just sayin' it outright: it MAY help the overall structure of the healthcare landscape - but it will take at least 10-12 years to do so. We're already seeing adverse selection in the insurance exchanges, huge shortages of primary care physicians, and retail price wars for hospital outpatient services. All this does is result in hospitals receiving far less in reimbursement for services, increased self-pay/bad debt/charity care, and overall declining payor mix situations. IF hospitals survive the next 10 years, healthcare will look far different. I will either be some c-suite exec at the height of my career or combing the beach with a metal detector so that I can piece together enough change to buy a Corona on the beach by my tent. Either way, I would like to be alive at that point).
Hence my Bloody Mary and suitcase full of sunscreen and gossip rags. I need a few days where the biggest decision of the day is "Beach or pool?" Or "should we go eat off-the-boat fish for lunch or for dinner?"
I don't want to end up in the cath lab before I'm 40. I know I won't be saying "MAN, I wish I worked MORE hours" on my deathbed. I want to enjoy the fruits of my hard work while I'm still young and stupid enough to bodyboard (or paddleboard!) in the surf.
I'm going to try this thing all the kids are talking about: Chilling the Heck Out.
And with that, I can see the Gulf from my window.
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