Running Shoes

My latest news is that Muppet Corporate asked me to officially become the Chicago region's representative for the corporate Lean Six Sigma steering committee. The LSS Committee is actually pretty neat, despite my being so very green at all of this. I'm literally only a Green Belt (the three other reps from the other areas have years of study as Black Belts), but this is giving me a chance to further develop my teaching and leadership skills as I add the "lean" or "improvement" dimension to projects all over the place. I'll be doing a site visit to St. Piggy's here in a few weeks, especially because the new electronic medical record rollout (Epic) requested the help of the Lean Six Sigma team.

Hey, it's all resume-building material and I really enjoy it. Just the other day, I lead another patient throughput brainstorm, this time on the inpatient side. It was an *animated* conversation and all sorts of sidebar problems emerged. I filled up 6 pages of newsprint, just scribing the ideas for further discussion. I'm excited because the ER Throughput focus is commonplace around the country. Everyone's doing that. However, the inpatient throughput angle is new and we may be pioneers...no one is really doing anything about it yet and there's a definite need. It'll take hours and hours to organize this initiative, but if there's one thing EVOO has taught me so far, it's to run at problems. If you see a problem that needs to be fixed, run at it and do everything you can to fix it yourself.

He claims that's how careers are made. I agree, but am still learning the balance of which problems I can fix and which I just need to identify and then hand off to someone else to fix.

Plus, I have a feeling I'm going to need better running shoes!

Paint the Place Pink

Nurse Jackie and I have become nearly inseparable the last few weeks. I've transitioned into my role and am beginning to feel comfortable being over the outpatient areas (well, I have the illusion of control!). However, that job title is about 20% of my job, as I'm still very focused on a lot of other stuff. That big operational project I've been talking about? Well, I still cannot talk about it, but I'm going to henceforth refer to is as "The Craziness Project."

The Craziness Project is eating up everyone's time, as we're spending hours and hours talking to physicians. We need them to buy in to the idea and provide feedback. EVOO and Nurse Jackie bring me into meetings to help organize their thoughts, plans, and next steps. The learning curve has been steep, but I am actually starting to feel like I contribute to the team (again, maybe I have the illusion of contribution?)

Anyway, at the end of last week, all the "guys" (consisting of Elvis, EVOO, Cookie Monster, and all the male VP's) were out at corporate meetings or on vacation. It was literally just Nurse Jackie and me. Nurse Jackie kept reminding me that we're in charge and that the girls are running the hospitals.

This has happened before, where she and I are the only administrators in the house. During those times, she'll text me and say "It's time to paint the place pink!"

Probably Just Nuts

So I'm probably nuts and you're all shaking your heads in confusion and disbelief as I announce my latest news...

I'm pregnant!

[Waits for the applause and cheering]

What, no applause and cheering?

[Hears only crickets chirping]

Wow, tough crowd!

OF COURSE, I'm kidding.

[What would you have done if I really was pregnant? Maybe I would have gotten a baby shower? I've only purchased 29 baby monitors, 34 onesies, and 12 hooded bath towels for other folks having babies! Oh, anyone reading this gets pregnant soon, you know what you'll get from me...a baby monitor, a onesie, and a hooded towel!]

Anyway, what I REALLY wanted to tell you is that I'm returning to graduate school.

[Waits for cheering and applause]

Wow, you guys are tough!

In all seriousness, I am planning my return to grad school to work on my M.A. in Theology. It sounds nuts, I know, but I feel like this part of me is hanging unfinished in the intellectual puzzle of my life. I started a Master's at Notre Dame while I was still in my undergrad. I bailed on it after one (very legalistic) class, knowing it wasn't the right time to pursue that education. Now that I've landed a great job and know where I'm heading career-wise, the M.A. will allow me to stretch my philosophical muscles and study what I really love.

[Yes, the idea of an MBA crossed my mind briefly...for about 2 milliseconds.]

And just to be clear, I'm not going back to school to study dogma or moral theology. It's a specialization in Bioethics. Instead of signing my life away to complete a PhD in Ethics (as I roughly planned), I'm starting with the M.A. This will let me finish the degree I started long ago, study what I love (Bioethics), and obtain more information to earn my keep on the St. Fozzie's Ethics and Hospice Ethics Committees.

Believe it or not, Jack's supportive. After I pitched the idea to him, he sighed, shook his head, and sought three gelcaps from the nearest Advil bottle!

And just for the skeptics out there, Jack is doing everything he can to position himself to return to school this fall. We're trying to keep Indiana residency so he can continue in the IU system.

We're a bunch of learnin' fools! Actually, we're probably just nuts!

Missing That $100

I finally settled on the design of JKS. I had to play with that template a bit more...but I didn't have a whole lotta time this week.

Jack has lived with me for a whole 7 days and both of us are living to tell of it! Our house, back up on the market since Unethical Buyer fell through, has had several viewings but no second offers. Jack's job situation is great, as he has two strong opportunities percolating. So there is hope on both accounts.

Otherwise, the re-integration of Jack and Dorrie has been going well so far. We feel a bit stiff with each other, as we get reacquainted, but we're quickly relearning each other's patterns, preferences, and weekday schedules. In all, the year, month, and eight days seems to have only strengthened our marriage.

So as our first official "date night" being back together, we went on a Mob Tour downtown last night. The "Blood, Guns, and Valentine's Tour," billed by the History Channel as "fantastic," It was interesting and the guide certainly knew his stuff, but I wouldn't call it "fantastic." We rode around downtown on a very inconspicuous maroon and yellow short bus...a bus that didn't have air-conditioning on a 91 degree evening in the Chi.

Yes, it was refreshing (sense my tone!). As we got on and off the bus at reported mob hot spots around the city, our group of 16 resembled a school tour from yesteryear. I forgot my permission slip! Are sack lunches allowed?!

The part that bummed us out the most was that the actual "hot spots" are no longer in existence. For instance, we visited the place of the St. Valentine's Day murders (where Al Capone took a machine gun to several guys lined up against a wall); the Sausage Factory (where a guy killed his wife, dumped her body into the sausage vat, and well, you know); and the Congress Plaza Hotel (where this guy used to lure young, rich women to the Chi and torture them AND take their money). Except for the Hotel, which is eerily representative of the 1890's, nothing else is standing. So the tour took us to empty lots, parking garages, and other new high-rise condos where the hot spots used to exist.

Nonetheless, we met some interesting people on the tour and I definitively learned that I can never, ever participate in a guided tour on a large scale. The whole time we were riding around in the bus (the wheels on the bus go round and round!), I kept gazing out at the city, making note of interesting bistros, restaurants, theatres, and bars I wouldn't mind trying. In fact, by the end of the tour, I couldn't wait to leave the group and explore on my own! The tour severely limited my creativity and I just couldn't handle it. The heat and stuffiness of the bus probably didn't help, but I was so happy when we finished and Jack and I departed for the nearest restaurant...At which we dined out on the sidewalk, relishing the 88 degree Chicago evening. It was a gorgeous night to be in town and we relaxed out there until after midnight. But I'll never get that $100 back that we wasted on the Mob tour! If you're tempted to go on one, just read The Outfit instead!

We tossed around the idea of going back downtown today, for the filming of "Transformers 3." The Mag Mile is closed and we spotted a marquee saying all the explosion and car roll-over scenes were being filmed today (Saturday). Normally, I'd be all over this, but at a high of 93 degrees with blazing sun, we opted to stay home in the A/C. We figured we wouldn't be able to get close enough to catch any movie spoilers or anything fun like that!

Plus, Jack discovered a tiny, hole-in-the-wall shop that sells homemade Polish pierogi. We're going to fry those babies up and enjoy our Polish heritage. Hey, that's AT LEAST as cool as Transformers 3!

Life Journal: Volume 1

This quote rates above my usual "Quote Journal" selections. This is the stuff of "Life Journal," a new category I'm going to add to JKS. I'm evolving (pats on the back are welcome here and placate my incessant need for recognition!). Just kidding, of course (*cough, cough*)

Here's the quote:

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

-Howard Thurman

This is wonderful advice and applies to so much in life. It makes sense; do what makes you come alive and then do that. It's the basis of passion, the impulse that drives us forward. What makes you come alive?

At work, several of us have been reading inspirational/motivational literature about other peoples' successes, triumphs, and discoveries in life. EVOO and I discuss this anecdotally and the strangest thing happened last week...he told me he had a great leadership quote for the team. I said the same thing and blurted out the new quote I so loved: "No person is ever great by imitation."

His quote? "No person is ever great by imitation."

At least we weren't imitating each other!

[Yes, I changed the appearance of Just Keep Swimming. I designed the template myself and had a great time doing so. Let me know if it's too hard to read.]

Breathe, Smash, Dance

I'm a bit tired of work-related blogging. Now that Jack is living with me in Chicagoland (I know...how novel!) it isn't all work anymore.

Y'know, despite the fact that I have to prepare for a gigantic presentation to our medical group's medical staff on Monday, regarding "my" huge operational project. It seems that EVOO is encouraging me to take ownership of this project. If it flies and the project succeeds, well, that'll be a REALLY good thing.

So anyway, Jack lives here again. We've changed in the last year, month, and eight days since we last shared the same address. He says I'm hardened, more the Alpha Female, and more vindictive than he remembers. From what I remember about him, he's become quite Zen, with the attitude that "everything will work out fine. Chill out, mon."

Okay, so I added the "chill out, mon" part. Nonetheless, we are opposites and always have been. That's why our marriage works...we complement each other.

Jack is using the opportunity of moving to Chicago to redefine himself. This is his time to redefine his identity and transform parts of himself that he's always wanted to fix or improve. We all go through this when we make big live changes. While he's reflecting on what he really wants to become in his life, I'm doing similar reflection.

At the risk of sounding cheesy, I have been looking to the book "Eat, Pray, Love" for inspiration on this reflection. I read the book last summer and while I disagreed with the author's divorce situation and portrayal of faith, creed, and love, I was really struck by the freedom in which she pursued her desires. In short, she left her husband, decided she wanted to get out there in the world, experience life, travel, and then write a book about it. Dividing a year between Italy, India, and Bali, she financed her travels through a $100,000 publisher's advance, with the expectation that a best-selling book would result from the year-long experience.

Alas, it did. And now Julia Roberts is in on it, as she's playing the main character when the movie opens. Yes, I'm going to that one on opening weekend!

I could completely see myself doing something similar...well, not the leaving my husband part, but setting out on a world adventure and then writing about it. It makes me wonder what I would do. Where would I go? What would I eat? What would be my paradise that would so enlighten my life and redefine my sense of purpose in this world?

So here's what my book would be called: "Breathe, Smash, Dance."

In the "Breathe" section, I would hike in the mountains for four months. Initially, I thought I'd like to hike the Appalachian Trail, but this could take me somewhere far more exotic. I wouldn't mind hiking the Andes, the Rockies, or even the Bavarian Alps. I don't feel the need to scale Mt. Everest, but I do feel the need to embark upon an extended, "lower altitude" hike in the mountains. During this exercise, I would rediscover how to breathe!

In the "Smash" section, I would try wine-making for four months. Again, initially, I was thinking Sonoma or Napa Valley, but this could mean southern France, northern Italy, or Chile. I want to learn the intricacies of vineyard production, the chemical complexities of wine-making, the art of wine-tasting, and the ways of life on the vineyard. And although it's cliche, I want to smash those grapes with my bare feet!

In the "Dance" section, I would travel to Fiji. From the pictures I've seen of Fiji, it looks like my own personal notion of paradise. I would spend my time in Fiji getting acquainted with the locals, canoeing around the islands, eating Polynesian fare, learning the islander ways of respecting the land and ocean, and...dancing. I want to learn the Polynesian tribal fire dances, the crux of their island culture.

The common thread in my three chosen travel spots is simple: I want to slow down, relish another's culture, and find the freedom to live each day as a new experience.

[Not that I don't love being a hospital administrator!]

Think I could get a publisher to give me $100,000 to live this adventure? Hmmm.

Code Blue

I sometimes forget that I work in a hospital, surrounded by life and death.

It was a stressful day, complete with the usual barrage of meetings and exhausting arguments over, well, the big operational project. Some of the physicians are swinging from the chandeliers and it's not the easiest thing to control. They tend to play the "telephone game" and each time a doc tells the story, the words change just a little bit. I've received a huge PR lesson on how to manage unruly physicians!

I took a break by visiting the resident/intern lounge. We created a new lounge for them and since the residents' school year just started on July 1, they are NEWBIES. They make me look like the secure, together one! It's always nice to meet the new students; most of them will be floating around the hospital corridors for 4-5 years. Plus, it makes it far easier to recruit them if you already have known them for four years!

So after departing the lounge, I walked through the ER and found a patient looking lost. I helped her to her destination and continued on my way. Then a patient's family member came out of the cafeteria, carefully balancing a tray of food, looking confused about her whereabouts. She had the tray loaded up for she and her husband, who was up in CT Scan, receiving a test. I offered to walk with her and I started some light chit-chat with her while we waited for the elevator.

Just then, our hospital-wide PA system announced a "Code Blue in the CT Scan." She looked at me with huge, scared eyes and with a shaking voice said, "My husband's in the CT Scanner." Before the elevator doors closed after us, I saw a chaplain rushing down the hall (they respond to Codes, too). Grateful to see the chaplain, I pulled her into the elevator with us.

"Code Blue" means the patient's heart stopped while on the CT table.

Up in Radiology, I saw the other people who respond to Codes (ICU nurse, chief resident, attending physician, respiratory therapist) running through the corridor, pushing a crash cart. The patient's wife followed me and the chaplain down the hallway in a fast walk. None of us spoke. What was there to say? We have one CT Scanner at that campus and I had no consoling words to offer. She rounded her way into the CT Scan room and threw herself on her husband in a wailing angst that echoed through the tile hallways. Bewildered patients stepped out of the other radiology rooms and I tried to find someone to help me. The Code team, quickly unpacking their cart, needed to intubate the patient and do their best to resuscitate him. The wife continued wailing for her husband and grew agitated with our attempts to pull her away from the husband so they could administer shock. Once I saw the ER physician fire up the paddles, I knew we had to get the wife out of there.

At last, a member of the Security team came up and was able to open up an unused exam room for the patient's wife, the chaplain, and one of the nurses (who promised to duck in and out continually to keep the wife updated). I hung around for a short time to make sure Security and the chaplain had everything they needed. I was helpless and couldn't DO anything, but I have the means to quickly FIND someone who can. I soon departed Radiology, 20 minutes late for a meeting on financial productivity. Suddenly, financial productivity didn't seen quite so important.
It was awful, just awful. The wife, suspecting that everything was going to be fine with her husband, went down to the cafeteria to grab dinner so they could eat while they waited for his results. He coded and passed away while she was gone for 15 minutes.

It just goes to show that we never know the day or the hour.

Bono Bound

I have a bunch of useless things to talk about tonight. I feel accomplished from my day and I'm in rare form...quite social, AWAKE, and just, well, cool. I seldom feel cool without donning my knee-high, high-heeled black boots...or my cute, dangly earrings...or without carrying my "I-Heart-Edward Cullen" notebook around the hospital.

Kidding. "Twilight" is a novel idea, but the teenage vampire angst is a bit much, even for me. They're so dramatic and emo! I'd rather tote my "I-Heart-Bono" notebook around St. Fozzie's.

I'm listening to a "virtual" U2 concert on a favored Chicago radio station. How many radio stations play U2 concerts for their listeners' pleasure? I'm increasingly addicted to Chicago radio, especially stations that play U2 concerts to commemorate the concert that should've occurred at Soldier Field tonight. Alas, Bono broke his back and the concert was postponed...until next year. But The Edge just offered a ticket to me for the make-up concert next year at Soldier Field!

Eeeeee!

But how do you repay someone who's gotten you into not one, not two, not three, but FOUR U2 concerts? Does she get a U2-shaped jewel on her crown in heaven? Maybe it's shaped like a guitar. A red guitar (three chords and the truth).

[She stops to chuckle at her own joke]

By the way, The Edge, I'm publicly thanking you for your U2-themed generosity! What will this be, our seventh U2 concert together?

Shifting gears, after a 12 hour workday (before which I slept a measly 3 hours), I still feel like I could kick some major butt. I helped two of my managers develop action plans to transform their low performers to better performers. Then I went to the hospital Ethics committee meeting (which, I'm sorry, is intellectual heroin for me), survived an accreditation meeting, started the low-down operational analysis with the Periops team (yes, on that project I cannot talk about) and even went to the groomer to get a haircut.

I actually asked my hair stylist if she could just cut my hair another day and spend the whole hour just rubbing my head. She replied by giving me a 15 minute scalp massage and a lengthy shampoo.

I tipped her well.

And oddly, the headache I sported quickly dissipated as the haircut progressed.

I'm going to harness the energy I mysteriously have at this hour and dig into the newest issue of the Harvard Business Review. I know, can Chicago even stand my exciting life??!

Afghanistan

{As written from a deck, under a gracefully-swaying weeping willow, in the 93 degree breeze, while Jack's at the White Sox game!}

This was certainly an interesting four-day weekend.

I started off the weekend by routing through Michigan City on Friday morning, clearing out the holiday sidewalk sales to replenish my supply of suits, shells, and heels. I found great deals and happily succumbed to the retail therapy...in truth, the lining of my last good pair of dress pants fell out on Thursday evening and I wasn't going to pay $30 to have it replaced (not when new pants are $39 on sale).

I digress!

Then I resumed my highway travels to SB, where after running a couple errands, set up shop at SkyBlue and Lou's house. SkyBlue and I floated around all day on our respective rafts, relishing the hot sunshine and cool, turquoise pool water. The guys joined us in the evening, Jack after his last official day at the Crayola Company, Lou after work, and Zibby and Brady after their shifts. Jack whipped up a Food Network feast on the grill and Brady retaliated by drinking the house's supply of alcohol, in delayed celebration of his 21st birthday.

Saturday was nearly an exact carbon copy of Friday, pool-and-family-wise. Mom D joined us for cookout and after a few heated rounds of cornhole, we basked in the pool. The pool provides the forum for uninterrupted family gatherings...none of us talk to each other nearly as much as we do during pool season (particularly over holidays). When the snow and winds of winter arrive with their chilling vengeance, we all reflect back on those hot, lazy pool days.

Jack and I, exhausted from Friday and Saturday in the sun, headed for home (read: "home" now defined as Chicagoland). Upon exiting from the Interstate, I crested the exit ramp and was greeted by a fabulous display of fireworks on the horizon at dusk.

Upon turning down our street, we discovered the world's largest block party in progress. The house on the corner had a band (a good band) and must have spent thousands of dollars on those huge shell fireworks. From the comfort of our deck, we bopped along with the music and enjoyed perfect, front-row seat for the fireworks.

On Sunday, after our usual church/brunch combo, we returned home to relax on the deck and read our respective novels. I just relish the emotional freedom of an unscheduled day. After a few hours of reading and hanging out together, we ambled down to the town festival (smaller version of 4H fair) and our church's beer garden. Sparsely populated, we instead opted for a dinner out together. On the way home, again at dusk, we were treated by the hundreds of top-quality fireworks on the horizon.

Now, since we live on the IN/IL border, illegal fireworks abound. They are illegal in IL, so Chicagoans come to the northwest reaches of Indiana to satisfy their illegitimate firework desires. As a result, everyone has access to the stellar firework supplies.

We took advantage of everyone else's willingness to spend their hard-earned cash on exploding packets of gunpowder. At dusk, after leaving dinner, we parked at the local high school and sat on the hood (it was so 1986!). The fireworks were so plentiful that we didn't even know where to look. I could continuously scan the horizon and see dozens of displays. All those displays created such noise pollution with the "bang, pop, whiz, eeeeeeeee, bang, bang, pops" that we felt like we were in Chinese firework testing facilities.

Or, you know, some place like Afghanistan!

It was a memorable experience and while we wanted to go downtown and watch Navy Pier fireworks, we figured we could do that anytime (since NP has nightly fireworks).

It's quite bizarre to be away from our families on holidays. I couldn't imagine my friends in Florida, Texas, Iowa, or North Dakota, who are unable to drive home and see their families on a whim. Nonetheless, Jack and I are far enough away to redefine ourselves, dive into our careers, determine what we want to do with our lives, and assert our newfound independence...on Independence Day!

No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problem

I'm throwing the pager away, powering down the laptop, burying my blackberry, and hanging up my suits for four whole days.

And I'll be in a bathing suit for at least three of those four days...and at a Sox game on the fourth day. Wahoo!

Happy Fourth of July!