Driving Miss Mortality

I'm so fundamentally exhausted; it'll be an early bedtime tonight. On days like this, I feel like I've lived three or four days in the span of one. I presented my St. Fozzie's action plan to the other execs today and it went beautifully. I have about 3 hours of paperwork to complete because of it, but I'll chalk it up as a major success. Then our local Congressman visited the ER today, to present us with $150k for increased monitoring capabilities. Because of the Chicago market, this is a great thing. So I went to a 2010 budget overview meeting, presented for senior leadership, and met the Congressman, all before lunch.

After lunch, I went and found Sister Monica again, to reconnect with the Mexican family from yesterday. We had to create a document that petitions entry into the U.S., for the few remaining family members. They did decide to transfer him to inpatient Hospice, but they do not want to remove the ventilator and other life-support until the family can arrive and say their good-byes. This is hard to endure, because the doctors document the patient's suffering in the chart.

While helping Sister Monica with some of this paperwork, I couldn't help but think about the shortness and temporary nature of life. We're mortal beings. This may come to YOU as a regular thought, but despite the medical circumstances through which I've come, I still consider myself rather invincible. Just this morning, I caught myself flying along on the Tri-State, weaving in and out of traffic like those yahoo's I used to swear at under my breath. I realized that I've become one of those crazy Chicago drivers I hated (yes, that quickly). However, I also realized that I could easily wrap my car around a lightpole or snag someone's bumper and go rolling down the ravine.

Life is short. Drive fast. Ooops, I mean, life is short, live well.

Into the REAL Hospital

After three hours in strategic meetings this morning (an equal mix of boring and fascinating--just because the word "strategic" denotes secretive hospital planning), I slammed another diet Red Bull and joined Sister Monica for some immersion into Palliative Care. For those of you who don't know, Palliative Care takes over where modern medical science ends. It's often perceived as "end of life" care, but it doesn't necessarily mean that death is immanent when Palliative Care consults are requested. From what I can tell, the Palliative Care folks enact a dance with the patients and their families, helping them figure out what they want in the end. Do the patients want every single life-saving measure attempted? Do they just want the paddles used on them and if that fails, they're a DNR (do not resuscitate)? Do they want comfort measures only, so they can go when God calls them (but in as little pain as possible, as through Hospice)? It's a continuum, really.

And it's not an easy decision, because the patients are usually unable to speak for themselves, let alone make decisions in their comatose (or medication-induced) places. Families enter into the picture, as do out-of-town relatives, and other complex issues that arise in everyone's families when someone is sick. They want the best care for their relatives, without concern for cost. However, it's the grim reality in our south-Chicago payer mix, that most people have limited (if any) insurance. This part of Chicago serves three times the average urban Medicaid population in other U.S. cities. So it truly becomes charitable service.

I *knew* all of this, intellectually, before the day began. I now know all of this emotionally and spiritually, as I donned my own lab coat, scrubbed in, and visited four patients in the ICU. In all honesty, none of the four patients were alert, so I went with Sister Monica to speak with their families. In every case, the families were either in denial or experiencing terrifying fear of death for their loved ones. Only one family was open and talkative today…

It was a family of Mexicans. The patriarch was only 49 and dying from a terribly-metastaticized lung cancer. His son lives with him in the U.S. and the rest of the family had to fly in from Mexico. They arrived today and thankfully, understood that they had to do something to mitigate the father's suffering. They agreed to a Hospice consult, but not before shedding wailing tears and soft mutterings in Spanish. Sister Monica was an angel as she found simplistic words to explain life's most challenging options to the family (who had limited English skills). I could really feel her empathy and the authenticity with which she approached that situation. No wonder people trust her so implicitly. The nun habit only gets you in the door!

So we have a follow-up meeting with the family tomorrow. I'm tempted to cancel my noon lunch meeting so I can sit in and learn more about this family's story. They were gracious enough to not only allow me into the discussions, but to actively seek my advice and prayers.

It's been a fascinating journey through my maze of administrative meetings and decision-making. But it was very refreshing (and dare I say it, replenishing) to interact with patients. I realized that this hospital actually does make a difference in patients' lives.

Confidence=Bad Ass

I admit it, I was *kind of* inspired by Beyonce. Not to hit the stairmaster or take voice lessons (although I probably should do both!), but to adopt an alter-ego.

I'm a devout fan of Us Weekly and other celebrity gossip. I wouldn't go as far as to call it a vice, but it's certainly an entertaining escape from my stress. Anyway, one such article detailed Beyonce and how she created an alter-ego for herself so she wouldn't lose herself in her work. She is able to compartmentalize her stage self and because she named it, she can put on that other self like a piece of clothing. She can opt to instantly "put on" this other self.

I thought to myself, "Self, you need an alter-ego, too." This is a great idea and as long as it doesn't lead to some unfortunate bout with self-induced schizophrenia, it would help me separate "work Dorrie" from "home Dorrie." Most professional women I know are completely different at work. They're competitive, confident, and generally don't take crap from people. I've often talked about how hard it is for me to switch gears between my work self and regular self (despite the 100 mile drive). It's impossible to be the "work Dorrie" all the time and straddling that line is exhausting. I needed to name that professional woman that spontaneously comes out when I'm about to step into a male-dominated board room or get up and speak in front of dozens of people.

My next discussion with myself revolved around possible names. It had to be a TOUGH name, something akin to, oh, a call-sign on Top Gun. I ran through those names (Mave Rick, Goose, Ice Man), some names from Saved By the Bell (Screech and Slater), and even a few one-name celebrities (Bono, Madonna, Cher...Cher? Do I really want to refer to my alter-ego as Cher? Yikes). As much as I wanted to refer to myself as Ice Man, or rather, Ice Woman, I didn't think that would fit. I don't want to be known as an Ice Queen.

My name found me when Jack talked me into buying a randy pair of sunglasses in Chicago. They're *totally* not my style, as they're mirrored lenses with gold frames. They look like they belong on a rock star (or let's be fair, a pimp), not a newbie hospital administrator. Then again, I liked the way I looked in my rock star glasses. They were different. Unsettling. I looked cool. I looked tough. I looked bad ass!

More importantly, I felt bad ass. I feel cheesy admitting that, but I bought them and they've helped me compartmentalize the "work self" I've been trying to define these last few weeks. While I'm doing my best to learn the hospital organization, figure out the managerial tricks, and generally SURVIVE, a little bit of bad ass attitude goes a long way.

Random: Greenhood

I must attract strange encounters with animated characters. I was out rollerblading last night and guess who I saw this time? Kermit! This guy was riding a tandem bike and Kermit (a four-foot tall version) was sitting on the front half of the bike, feet (paws? flippers? fins?) strapped on the pedals. The license plate on the back of the bike? It's not easy being green.
Guess not!

I have GOT to start carrying my camera, wherever I go!

Joke Journal: ADD

I Remember When

I had a few meetings in the late morning today (including one with the palliative care nurse, the closest thing St. Fozzie's has to an ethicist) and lucked into an invitation from Sister Lourdes to join her for lunch at a local country club. Side note: I could really get used to the country club setting...what with the golf outing yesterday, a leisurely lunch today, yeah. It's the good life.

I ended up "hanging out" with Sister most of the afternoon and she's pretty spunky. I'll learn a lot from her. So anyway, our secretary runs in to tell us Farah Fawcett passed away. Not 20 minutes later, she runs in again to tell us that Michael Jackson was administered CPR on the way to UCLA Medical Center. Our first thoughts were, "What about HIPAA? Michael Jackson deserves privacy, too!"

Then I realized that Michael Jackson, if he needed CPR, he had probably coded. Sure enough, the news soon announced his death. It's a sad, sad day and my favorite thumping Chicago techno radio station played MJ all the way home...everything from 'Thriller' to 'Bad' to 'I'll Be There.'

[Call me insensitive, but if I were Farah Fawcett's soul, I'd be pretty pissed that my death was overshadowed by the death of the King of Pop![

It reminds me of when I was a freshman at Saint Mary's. During that first few weeks on campus that fall, Princess Di was killed in that car crash. That same weekend, Mother Theresa passed away. Just like I will always remember I was a frosh at Saint Mary's when those two wonderful women passed on, I will remember I was shootin' the breeze with Sister Lourdes at St. Fozzie's when Farah and Michael passed on. May God bless them all.

I'm a Barbie ShortStop

"Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out."
-Robert Collier

I like this expression, but it kind of reminds me about how people define "insanity" as doing the same thing, day in and day out, and expecting a different result. Maybe insanity and success aren't too far apart on that spectrum! I'm still in survival mode, so success and insanity are both fair game at this point.

I felt like a veritable Barbie doll today. Not in the 38-22-36 kind of way, but because I wore a cute black skirt at work...With a pink dress shirt...And patent leather heels. If I had a dollar for every time I was glanced up and down, well, I wouldn't be sweating this dual mortgage situation so much! All kidding aside, it IS interesting how even my secretary did a double-take when I walked in this morning (she keeps fussing over me). It's almost like people can't understand how you can play Shortstop on the hospital softball team, hit a triple, and be a girl the next morning again! I don't really care because skirts are infinitely cooler than full suits and it's only 94 degrees in the shade.

I'm trying to prove myself, that even as a young WOMAN, I have some wit to share. For example, I participate in ongoing banter with the COO. Every day, he catches me at a very random moment and quickly asks me what the 'word of the day' is. At first, I was studious and would answer, "Leadership!" or "transparency!" or other ass-kissing suggestions. Now, I fire back things like "perspicacious" or "onomatopoeia." I have to be careful, though, because he'll sometimes ask me to define my word choice. Whoops!

It's very interesting...my biggest challenges so far aren't in regard to living 90 miles away from my husband, learning a crazy highway system, or learning how to RUN A HOSPITAL, but when I'm asserting myself in a man's world. Some of the guys are rather cheeky and as soon as I leave the room, I can almost hear the comments being said about me. But I keep pressing on, knowing that some day, I will have earned their respect.

Golf Lessons

So today, this was the view from my office. Rather, it was the view from my golf cart at the St. Fozzie's Classic Golf Outing. It was SO hot out there today; heat indices of 100 were recorded. Because I'm not a golfer (yet), I rode around in a cart with the Physician Liasion and we socialized the whole time. I got to know that golf course really well by the end of the day! It was actually very fun, socializing with the surgeons, cardiologists, family docs, and of course, some of the administrators. But I see the administrators every day and the docs were a trip! One foursome of surgeons had multiple martinis and they kept offering us drinks.

If it wasn't 100 degrees and I wasn't officially WORKING, I would have imbibed. As it was, I behaved myself and instead got in trouble for my pink Notre Dame cap I wore. That attracted far more attention than the booze. Who knew Purdue fans were so devoted? In Tinley Park, Illinois, no less?

Yikes.

So yes, I finally agree with Jack, that I need to learn how to play golf. He's been telling me for years, that execs play golf when they want to talk frankly. Alas, I throw in the towel (and perhaps, the pink ND cap) and concede to these words of wisdom. Anyone want to join me at the driving range?

Just Keep Golfing

First, THANK YOU to all of you who voted in the last few hours that I should Just Keep Swimming. I appreciate this feedback. Blogging is weirdly therapeutic to me and I hoped it was just a smidge entertaining, too!

I'm happy to report that things are going pretty well in Chicagoland. I still feel completely overwhelmed by my job, but the overwhelmed feelings are becoming normal now. And something else I've noticed in the executive world, is that they never tell you that you're doing a good job. You hear about it when you make mistakes, but no news is generally considered good news. This is an adjustment for me, because I like knowing I'm on the right track.

I get a small break (of sorts) tomorrow, as it's the first of three all-day golf outings for the hospital. I admitted my lack of golfing ability and was immediately assigned to the "pep squad." I'll get to ride around in a golf cart, passing out water and St. Fozzie's paraphernalia to 188 doctors, administrators, and prominent community members. While I would normally brush off such an assignment, I'm grateful they're not making me golf. There aren't enough golf balls in the world and besides, I know a softball swing, not a golf swing. I was told, however, that I have to actually golf at the next two events. Drat!

And even though I'm not golfing tomorrow, I *still* worried about my outfit. All I have here in Chicagoland is suits, fancy shirts, and one pair of khaki's that I wear to church every Sunday. Oh, and a pair of way-short shorts, but they won't work. Sister Lourdes will be in attendance and I might be sent to Hell.

So after the softball game tonight (yes, it was 98 degrees in the shade, speaking of Hell), I scurried over to my neighborhood Kohl's for something decent to wear on the golf course. I found a pair of knee-length shorts and a cute nautical shirt that will totally work. But as I was standing in line, a woman tapped me on the shoulder. She says, "Excuse me, do you work at St. Fozzie's?" I nodded, acutely aware of my disheveled hair, running make-up, and probably not-so-wonderful aroma as my shirt was still damp from sweat. Ignoring this, she answered, "I'm Katie and I work in Radiology!" Great! Her next comment? "You look so different in plain clothes!"

Um, yeah. Usually when you see me, I'm in a suit and y'know, like, SHOWERED?! Oh well, at least that will be a fun rumor to hear when it finally gets back to me in a few days.

Digging!

Okay, I admit it. I haven't posted much lately because I have not been receiving many comments. My sitemeter malfunctioned and I cannot determine if anyone's viewing my page. As much as I hate to admit that I'm also a slave to Pavlovian psychology, I need reinforcement, too! If you lurk around this site, will you please drop by to say hi? I have so much to share, so many lessons learned, but I do not want to post if my readers are taking a blog-reading hiatus for the summer! This is not a guilt trip, but more of a census. :)

I will go ahead and post my most recent thoughts and experiences tonight. But I am trying to determine if this blog is a worthwhile use of my time.

Thanks, everyone!

Staying the Course

This reflection appeared at many of our meetings over the last few weeks. Thought I would share it and record it for my own posterity!

"Our journey of life is about progress, not perfection.
It’s not about doing one thing 100% better –
it’s a matter of doing 100 things
1% better each day.

Progress is evolutionary
not revolutionary,
and most days we measure our progress
in inches, not miles.

What matters most
is showing up for your life
whether you feel like it or not.

Ask yourself,
“What two or three little things
can I do today
that would move me forward?”

You’d be amazed
at how much distance you can cover
by taking it in increments.

The little things add up;
the inches turn to miles;
and we string together our efforts
like so many pearls.
Before long,
look what you have –
a whole strand!"

The Name of the Game

Yes, I realize I'm quoting Abba. I happen to love the song "The Name of the Game" and was quite upset when it was cut from the movie verison of Mamma Mia. Besides the Abba 8-track playing in my mind, I also realized that I need to buy new shoes. And a leather attache. And maybe even a fancy umbrella.

Yesterday, I got caught in what could only be described as a torrential downpour of Biblical proportions. I was invited to a couple of business meetings downtown, with a few strategic folks in senior leadership at St. Fozzie's, to address the Director of Health and Family Services and the governor. The St. Fozzie's folks wove me into the agenda so that my representation actually seemed necessary. It was just COOL, to be in fancy meetings with the governor's office and holding my own (Governor Quinn, not Blago). In both boardrooms, I was the only woman. Intimidating? Naaah. Not when you have soaking wet shoes, a soggy portfolio, and a damp suit coat to distract you.

This brings me back to the rain...even though we were dropped off near the door (central Loop), we still got soaked...To the bone...Where the A/C chills you because everything on your person is damp. Despite seeing the animals walking two-by-two down Wacker, I learned a whole hell of a lot about Illinois politics.

I was shocked to find out, a few weeks ago, how political the healthcare scene is in Illinois. You receive earmarked funds because the lobbyists go to bat for you. You get stricken from legislative bills because your adversary just happens to be tight with state hospital association. You are successful because of who you know and how you play those relationships. That's not a new idea, especially in healthcare. I just had no idea how pervasive these politics are in the Illinois sphere...they're the Name of the Game.

They should totally make a reality t.v. show based on Illinois politics! "I'm a Hospital Administrator, Get Me Outta Here!"

Random: ZOINKS!

I had another weird encounter with a stuffed animal. Driving on 80/94, I went to pass a semi truck. I had trouble getting around said semi, because several cars were going its exact speed, taking pictures of the back of the truck. I was tempted to get upset (you know how I feel about Chicago drivers), then I dissolved in hiccupping laughter when I saw the subject matter of the pictures.

There was a 4-5 foot tall stuffed Scooby Doo "doll" strapped to the back of the semi! Actually, the arm that locks the back of the truck secured Scooby to the truck. Scooby looked pretty scared back there and I had a philosophical debate with myself regarding whether this Scooby was "life-sized." What qualifies as "life-sized" when the character is an animation? Does the categorical imperative even apply to animated dogs? Deep thoughts for the Interstate!

I wish I had a photo to share, but as I was going about 80 mph and I wasn't going to dig through my black hole of a purse so I could produce photo evidence! Sorry. If I would have gotten wiped off the Interstate, it would have been quite embarrassing to tell St. Peter I died because I was trying to take a picture of Scooby Doo!

The Fittest Drive 1900 Miles

I'm sitting on my deck outside, sipping a pomegranate/raspberry beer (they're really good), savoring the heat and humidity of summer. It's finally hot outside and even though it's after 9pm, the humidity still hangs thick in the air. These are good pool nights at SkyBlue and Lou's.

Alas, I'm here in Chicagoland. Again. Since I keep track of mileage for work-related meetings, I know that I have put 1900 miles on my car in THREE WEEKS. That's a freaking lot of driving. But I digress...

What I really wanted to post about was the meeting at corporate today. Today was corporate operations, all the CEO'S, CFO'S, COO's, and VP's. Despite being one of three women in the room (besides the Sisters) surrounded by a bunch of 55+ men with gray hair, I had a grand ol' time. That is, up until about 2pm, when I sensed that my brain was getting full. I needed my external hard drive so I could quickly export the facts.

Unlike last time, I was confident the whole way through (full brain and all). I felt downright cool when I knew what this sentence meant: "STENI demonstrates CMS quality regulations regarding CHF, AMI, and SCIP, especially as reported in HCAHPS, the JCAHO-related agency." Healthcare is full of acronyms. I had another one to add to my list: WAMFE (pronounced "waam-fee"). This stands for "Worried about my facial expression."

Because I'm the newbie, I was placed in the front of the room, not far from the system president. This was okay, but he has a knack for watching expressions enough to know when someone doesn't understand a topic. I didn't want to be a DIHL, so I monitored my expression all day long. I didn't want to appear confused, I didn't want to look bored, and I didn't want to look like a know-it-all. I went for the "interested and deeply thoughtful" look. I kid you not, even expressions matter in this business. No wonder I'm zonked.

A lot matters in this business, but I'm convinced it boils down to survival, survival of the fittest. The fearful or uncertain execs self-select out and the strong ones naturally rise to the top. I'm convinced that my mentors are actually trying to kill me, to test my perseverance and see *just* how dedicated I really am. I've decided that I'm going to succeed in this endeavor, regardless of the stress and challenges. However, if I end up inadvertently hanging myself in my computer cords, will someone please make sure Jack engraves "WAMFE for DIHL" on my tombstone?!

Aptly Titled

I *feel* like I need to "just keep swimming" lately. What is with this rain? Did God not get the memo that it's summer and it's supposed to be 80 and sunny? My mood tanks when it rains (or is incessantly cloudy). It takes at least three times the effort to be "on" and probably four times the caffeine. Even though my offices don't have windows, I can just sense that it's crappy outside.

Yesterday was one of those "multiple Mt. Dew" days. I had a four-hour meeting in the morning, one in which I thought I could sit back and observe. Turns out, it was a form of leadership training and we had intense stuff like group discussions, role play, and even skits. You can't just sit back and observe that stuff. So I jumped in and had some fun with it.

Eight minutes after having returned from that meeting, Sister Lourdes popped in my office and invited me to IRB (Institutional Review Board) at the other hospital campus. I attended the meeting because it has an ethical element to it. Several docs presented drug trials and we (okay, they) had to decide whether the trials were ethically-conducive to human experimentation. Pretty interesting and they had STELLAR chocolate cake for dessert.

What really struck me about today (and exhausted me), was the comprehensive tour of the Cancer Institute while at the other campus. My family has been touched by cancer many times and, as many of you know, my own experience took me down the cancer road. The Cancer Institute is astounding; the technology really is state-of-the-art. Yet, as I looked at the radiation suites, the cozy and comfy chemo chairs, and the scanners and diagnostic equipment, my mind rushed back to 2006.

I didn't actually have cancer. That's what they told me when I woke up from surgery. "Benign" was the magic word. But I still went through all the motions and was prepared for the chemo, radiation, and subsequent life changes. My life ended up going in yet another direction, but I still cannot deny those experiences. I was the sickly post-surgical patient in the cushy chair. I was the patient who confided in her oncologist because my regular doctor didn't understand what I was going through. I was the patient who was scared to death of those big, loud machines. I've walked a mile in those shoes and understand patients' fears.

Walking through the Cancer Institute, I was reminded of my own harrowing experiences. A few times, the memories threatened to overwhelm me. I braced myself and instead focused on the artwork hanging on the wall. But at the same time, I realized just how darn lucky I am to be alive and how appreciative I am for this experience at St. Fozzie's. I really do feel as though I'm called to the healthcare field, if only because I've been in the patients' shoes myself. You really don't know until you've been there.

Full Circle

"Well slap me sideways and call me Suzie!"

That was the thought I had this morning when the Physician Liasion and COO forwarded me a message from corporate. The PL (Physician Liasion) and I have had ongoing discussions regarding the improvement of communication with our physicians. After all, they *are* the lifeblood of the hospital. Pun intended.

In these meetings with the PL, I jokingly mentioned we should utilize Twitter to quickly communicate with the docs. It could work, but there were a lot of accessibility concerns. Channeling that thought, I explained how we should instead create and maintain a blog. The PL kind of shot the idea down, because of confidentiality and security issues. There are ways around it, but it was logistically-challenging. So I dropped it. For about a day.

Then this email was forwarded to me from Corporate, about an astounding layout for a potential communication blog. The email even gave a sample blog. Which blog was it, you ask? You guessed it. I replied to "all" that I've been following this guy's blog for nearly a year and have garnered priceless wisdom on how to run a hospital. I also offered to create and maintain a similar blog to address our communication issues.

I love writing and after having presented my first real presentation to senior leadership this morning, I was promptly invited to help write a press release and another presentation. Apparently, my lot in life is to become a writer. Do you think I can still get a novel published!? Will Fabio pose for the cover? Hmm.

In regards to the blog idea, I felt validated, that my blog-reading was actually proved as a worthwhile pursuit and someone very high up in the corporate chain of command suggested it. I just wish I had suggested it all those months ago! Drat!

Type C

Here's my quote for the day:

"Leadership is the ability to hide your panic from others."
-Unknown

I saw this on the VP of Clinical Innovation's bulletin board the other day. I think it's true; leaders are the managers who keep their emotions under wraps. I have another theory to share with you. This one is in regard to personality types:

Type A: OCD, perfectionistic, ambitious, over-achieving, competitive, workaholics who multi-task and drive themselves with deadlines. I just learned that Type A's have a much-higher incidence of coronary heart disease. Fantastic. Should I just recruit a cardiologist now?

Type B: Patient, relaxed, easy-going, unshakable, tolerant, serene.

Type AA: "stress junkies" who have small bosoms.

Type BB: super-relaxed folks who procrastinate and have an affinity for toy guns.

Type C: This is my *new* classification. Type C's have the best of Type A and Type B. They are ambitious, competitve, and perfectionistic, but their exterior is one of calmness and tranquility. They're unshakable even in the midst of insane stress. However, the stress doesn't paralyze them, it motivates.

The best business leaders I've met so far have this Type C personality. I wonder if I can acquire the Type C personality? I'm definitely a Type A, but I wonder that with enough practice, I might be able to cultivate that calm and poised exterior?

Y'know, without sedatives!?

Teehee

Putting Out Fires

Well, I had another weird experience today. I learned how to put out fires. Like, literally.

We had fire extinguisher practice in the parking lot today. It cracked me up, because they actually *set* fires for us to extinguish. It's one of those skills you really hope you never need, but just in case, I have practiced the left-to-right "swoop" motion.

Speaking of fires, I had my first monumental stress today as well. I had about 7 hours of meetings (all of which I attended). At my second meeting, my boss (the CEO) asked that I write a presentation for him, for a series of meetings on Wednesday. I was fine with it until I sat down to write. I realized I didn't have time to sit down and write. I had to rush off to another meeting (one about Risk Management and HIPAA). I pretended I was enthralled by the new regulations, diligently taking notes. In reality, I was brainstorming presentation ideas and formulating an outline. This worked until I seemed *too* enthusiastic. The meeting organizer asked if she could have a copy of the "minutes" I was recording! Whoops. I made a graceful escape from that meeting 30 seconds before it formally adjourned.

Speaking of esophageal fires, I had my first chest pain today. It didn't worry me nearly as much as it did when I worked at corporate. I work in a freaking hospital; if I code, I literally work right below the Surgery department.

The chest pain died down as I dug my heels into the presentation. Well, I actually have two presentations to write this week, but this one was waaaay more important and it took precedence. I went back to my office and it was nice and quiet back in administration. My secretary has this amazing jazz playing all the time; it's that classy New York jazz (not the smooth jazz crap). I listened to that for a while but when that started to relax me too much, I played my "fast lane" song mix that I created for my commute. It contains a bunch of those dance/europop songs and it motivates me to drive aggressively enough to not die in the fast lanes. Coincidentally, it also makes me think and write quickly! When I finally hit "send" on that presentation, I felt a new surge of adrenaline. I finished my first real executive presentation.

It feels like I just turned in a massive paper for school! And I'm braindead from the endeavor. Should I admit that I've been regularly watching "I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here" as a stress reducer?!

The Snack of Champions

I wish I could say that I'm nourishing myself well during these first couple weeks. I went to Meijer once, two weeks ago, to buy staples such as caffeinated Crystal Light, Diet Mt. Dew, coffee, and coffee creamer (notice a pattern?). I picked up meager staples such as bread, cheese, and granola bars. I feel like it's Lent and every day is Friday, just because I'm too exhausted to cook anything substantial.

Because of the bare pantry, I've been eating around the edges at work, too. I've had a few luncheons, but if they don't feed us at the meetings, I've been going hungry. (This is actually working counter-intuitively for me as I now have to hire a tailor to take in my brand-new dress pants). It's not a phenomenon known only to me; the other execs are forever running around like crazy as they also do not take lunch breaks. I noticed a trend, though...people kept showing up at meetings with baggies full of yummy-looking trail mix. Y'know, the one with the dried fruit, mixed nuts and M&M's? Lusting after the trail mix, I finally asked one of the lawyers were he kept getting the trail mix (envisioning a shining cauldron full of said mix in some hidden closet). He laughed and told me he got it in the cafeteria.

The cafeteria? Um, yeah, I've seen the salads coming out of that place. It's bad when you purposely steer clear of certain food items because your schedule is too full to risk being sidelined with food poisoning.

Regardless, my hunger-induced mirages beckoned me to the cafeteria. Not only did I find the trail mix, but they have whole SECTION of bulk candy. Who would've guessed? I was ecstatic to find malt balls, gummy worms, Runts, chocolate-covered peanuts, and even mini Hershey bars. Jackpot! So I took my own baggie of trail mix back to the boardroom that afternoon (with my malt balls and gummy worms) as I had finally procured and secured my own snack of champions.

I'm happy to report that I have a cherry-picked baggie of trail mix in my Fozzie Heights office right now. I tend to leave the almonds and raisons for when I'm really hungry! I wonder what this Hunterer-and-Gatherer diet is going to do to my poor stomach?!

Joke Journal: First MEC

Amongst 28 other things today, I sat in on my first Medical Executive Committee (MEC) meeting in St. Fozzie’s administration. The whole hospital governance structure fascinates me and I actually enjoyed seeing the hospital chairpeople debate policy changes and physician staffing. They’re a smart bunch (duh) and really divide the continuum of expected behavior at formal business luncheons. Several of the docs were very polite and maintained their manners. They kept their elbows off the table and daintily dabbed their mouths with napkins. Others went back to the buffet three and four times, chewing with their mouths open, wiping mouths on their lab coats. I looked down my nose at one such offender and later learned she’s among the hospital’s top referral docs. In other words, she admits a lot of patients and can act however she damn well pleases. Whoops. My bad.

While the docs’ personalities interested me, their humor hit my funny bone (pun intended). The meeting was teleconferenced to other offices and the “hold” music for the teleconference system is this wonderfully relaxing piano music, the kind they play in spas. Well, as each doc filtered in to the room, they made comments about whether a masseuse is here and where are the pedicure chairs? One doc made the comment that the music had the same relaxing results as Valium and they should just pass around a bottle of Valium. Another doc dismissed that suggestion, instead arguing that they should pass around a stimulating snack to jolt us awake, such as wasabi peas. The docs compromised and said they’d develop Valium-laced wasabi peas. All the docs seconded this motion, but only if the Valium-laced wasabi peas could be washed down with champagne!

Now where else could you hear about Valium-laced wasabi peas with a champagne chaser?

And that was my first memory from an MEC meeting!

Chicago Drivers

Chicago drivers are, well, you know:

I found that picture a while back and have been waiting for the proper occasion to use it! I know that some of you consider me an offensive driver (even a blind driver) and let me tell you, some of these Chicago drivers put my offensiveness to shame. They are downright aggressive.

Just the other day, I was tooling home on the Tri-State, averaging 75 mph. A driver in front of me spontaneously changed lanes and cut off a second driver. I actually held my breath, channeled the adrenaline, waited for impact, and prepared to switch lanes to avoid the certain accident. As it was, the first driver sheered off a few paint flakes from the second driver’s bumper and no one had to be air-lifted to St. Fozzie’s for immediate organ harvesting. I caught myself growing content and quickly reverted back to the “10 and 2” hands position…it could be my bumper off of which they sheer paint next time! Goshdarnitalltoheck, it was a close one.

This morning, it was rainy, foggy, and windy on I-94. I couldn’t see more than 40 or 50 yards in front of me. You know the weather is atrocious when the fast lane is moving at 50 mph and the slower lanes are a semi-truck parking lot. This is usually when the involuntary Hail Mary's kick in, like a tick I cannot control. I changed the radio station from Lady Gaga to Jason Mraz and was able to slow down and ensure my safety.

That reminds me of a theory I’m developing. As soon as I refine this, I will forward it to the Department of Transportation. You have four or five lanes on your typical urban interstate. Instead of people zipping in and out of the lanes like fortified maniacs, let’s introduce some order into the situation. For the slowest, right-hand lands, mandate that drivers’ radio stations only play classical, jazz, or talk radio. Maybe some Yanni or light piano classicals. For the third-fastest lane, those people can listen to boppy 80’s, adult contemporary, or Christian. I’m thinking Phil Collins, Tina Turner, and Leona Lewis are allowed here (your Sunny 101.5 playlist). In the second-fastest lane, drivers may listen to rock, classic rock, or alternative bands such as Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, Aerosmith, and U2. And in the fastest lane, you must listen to speed metal, electronica, or dance. Think Megadeath and the Trainspotting soundtrack!

Your music selection dictates how you drive. And that is why accidents happen: someone in the classical lane crosses paths with someone in the speed metal lane! I’m on to something here, aren’t I?!

Quote Journal

Against the grain should be a way of life.
What's worth the prize is always worth the fight.
Every second counts 'cause there's no second try.
So live like you'll never live it twice.
Don't take the free ride in your own life.

-Nickelback
"If Today Was Your Last Day"

Climbing Canyons

When I packed to move to my new place, I brought a couple DVD's. Knowing I wouldn't have cable, I thought it smart to bring such favorites as Mamma Mia, The Holy Grail, Rudy, and of course, Finding Nemo. Tonight's definitely a "Rudy" night.

I decided I needed a dose of good ol' Notre Dame motivation today. Things are going well, so well I can barely believe it. I have been integrating myself in meeting after meeting, taking new subject matters as they arise and digesting all the material later. Yesterday, I spent about nine hours in high-level strategic meetings and while I didn't have more than two sentences to contribute, it was a priceless experience to see how the senior leaders think. Half of my job is learning the intricacies of hospital administration; half is to observe the leaders themselves and figure out how to think objectively and ask the right questions.

I've been given a pager, hundreds of business cards, and stacks of leadership and motivational books. My calendar is booked to the minute, I rarely have time to eat, and everyone treats me with utmost respect because my badge says "Administration." I keep questioning what being an executive really means...I always thought it meant you wore suits, attended high-level meetings, and played golf. Being thrust into it, it demands all of those things (even the golf), but you have to actually walk the walk. You have to live and breathe the managerial culture and embody the corporate values. Tall order? Yes.

The problem is that I'm so worried about how I present myself to others. For instance, I sat in on a legal review this morning (three hours) and received an overview of the service excellence endeavors in the hospital. I was one tired, brain-dead pup. So I skipped a meeting and have to trust that I make the correct decisions in these situations. While I want to attend every single meeting I can, I realized that I sometimes have to stop and digest some of the material or I won't be able to absorb much of anything. But silly ol' me, I'm still battling my insecurities.

So while I'm still struggling with others' perceptions of me (I know that true leaders don't give a lick about what others think of them), I'm immersed in adminsitrative functions and initiated some executive coaching among the best in their fields. Hence the "Rudy" moment I'm craving. I need some inspiration to go against the grain (and sometimes against myself) and rock it. Rudy always makes me feel warm and fuzzy, especially when he goes against all odds and turns his underdog status into a shining virtue.

My New Digs

A few of you requested pictures of my new digs. My house isn't too spectacular; it's yellow with burgundy shutters. It's about two miles off the Tri-State (priceless) and within a few blocks of my new church, a sparkling Meijer, and stellar breakfast diner. Those are always the requirements when Jack and I are searching for vacation properties...close to a grocery store, church, and one decent dining establishment!

Here are a couple pictures of the house's interior. I'm super-tired this evening, so pardon my lack of wit. I was going to post a picture of a multi-gazillion dollar house or the inside of a burned-out car or something!

This is my humble living room (and entry way that goes back into the laundry room). I could do without the wainscoting, but it does warm it up a bit. The couch is usually half-full of my laptop and folders and junk from work.

This is my humble eat-in kitchen. We strung some cute little lights in there, to brighten it up a bit. The country blue is cute, but since it's a north-facing window, it gets rather dark in there. The second picture is my standard bathroom. I took a pic just to show you the shower curtain. It's a silk blend curtain that Jack and I registered for before our wedding. It was $90 or something obscene and someone actually bought it for us. It doesn't match anything in our current bathroom, so I seized the opportunity to "prettify" my new bathroom.

The rest of the house consists of a laundry room, two bedrooms (one of which is empty but for my ironing board and fantastic shoe collection along one wall), and a little deck off the back.

So there you have it.

The grand tour of Casa Del Dorrie!

The Cure

On Friday, I finally met the administrative staff at the other campus of St. Fozzie’s. I was deeply involved in emails and meeting notes on Friday morning, in my St. Fozzie’s #1 office and one of the secretaries runs in at 8:06 a.m. to tell me I’m needed at the Operations meeting at the other campus (across town) at 8:30. It’s a 20-minute drive to the other campus. So I jump in my car, speed across town, do a tuck-and-roll out of my car as it skids to a stop in the doctors’ parking lot, and sprint through the hospital to the meeting. I made it at 8:29, as I didn’t even stop in at the restroom. The COO does not tolerate late-comers! The meeting was great and I was able to make my first verbal contributions. That was a great feeling, as I’m finally finding my voice. It took nearly a week!

So after the meeting, I received a brief tour of administration and received the keys to my Office #2. It’s a little smaller that Office #1, but the walls are a pretty, sage green. It has that Zen vibe. I met a few new folks, as most administrators float between campuses. One of the secretaries ran in to talk to the physician liaison, about the softball practice coming up next week. “Softball practice,” I asked? I mentioned that I used to play softball and they confided that they really needed a pitcher and decent first base coverage. I mentioned that I played those exact positions in school and they recruited me on the spot! Our first practice game is next Wednesday and games are Tuesday and Thursday evenings. The hospital has six teams and administration’s team is named “The Cure.” I’m playing for The Cure!

This opportunity is fabulous. First, it will give me something to do in the evenings and get me out of the office (I worked 55 hours my first week). Second, it’s a social thing and I will get to meet people in the hospital with whom my path normally wouldn’t cross. Third, I can’t help but think about the networking ops. Plus, it IS a good way to get some exercise. Most of my exercise so far has come from rollerblading “the path of enlightenment” and scaling the hospital stairs in my heels! Let me tell ya, heels are hell on one’s pedicure!

D.I.H.L.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned this week is that most of the medical field (including hospital administration) thrives on acronyms. CHF, EBOS, EMR, etc. Well, here’s my contribution to the list: DIHL. I like to pronounce this one as “deal” and it stands for “Deer in Head Lights.”

As I sat in my first system-wide executive meeting at corporate on Thursday, I realized that I have a particular facial expression when I’m a DIHL. My eyebrows are slightly raised, my eyes are rounded, and I get these little lines in my forehead. Taking a quick restroom break before the meeting, I saw evidence of my DIHL expression in the mirror. Instead of wiping that smile off my face (a common expression my mom used when I was being a smart-aleck), I tried to wipe that deer off my face.

I wasn’t even that scared by the meeting itself. The subject matter was easy to grasp and since I’m still in school mode, I was able to follow the subject matter. My DIHL kept emerging when I compared myself to others and tried to hold myself to their level (mind you, the room was full of senior execs and very important strategic folks who serve the whole system). I got discouraged with myself when I couldn’t quickly think of a question or comment that would “wow” the bunch. OF COURSE I am not yet in that place; I realized I needed to give myself a break. It was Day Four in my residency and I had spent 90% of my hours in meetings at the hospital. I was spent. I was exhausted. I was so tired I could have laid down on freezing-cold concrete and immediately passed out into deep sleep. That also helped me realize that I need to watch the exhaustion and when I start feeling insecure and unconfident, the necessary prescription is SLEEP.

Nurse Starbucks emailed me about the body’s stress cycle: of increased heart rate, blood pressure, and cortisol levels. As your body gets overwhelmed in stress, it breaks. I need to be careful that I do not run myself down to physical and emotional (and spiritual and psychological and mental!) exhaustion. This awesome and totally terrifying experience is teaching me the actual subject matter of administration, but also how to think like an executive and balance this insane schedule without breaking down.

Back Online

My DSL has been fixed and I'm now back online! I only had to threaten AT&T with a long and tortuous death! I have absolutely no idea what's going on in the world, so I need to read up on celebrity gossip, I mean, world events!

First Week at Fozzie's

A few of you have emailed me to ask how it's going in the new job. I can assure you that there is NO way I could have ever prepared for this job. It caught me off guard and it continues to catch me off guard as I meet new people, am introduced to more meeting agendas, and have to constantly weigh the tensions between hospital politics, hospital economics, and the hospital mission. It's like walking a tight rope and I'm only observing. I realized very early that I have very little contributions to offer the senior leadership team. However, I can ask questions. Some questions may seem stupid or obvious, but I'm taking the risk to ask them anyway. Even though some of these people have been through extensive strategic planning episodes in the past, each situation presents unique challenges. So here I sit, the village idiot, interjecting questions where I can. It helps in regard to the highly complex analytical processes, but also helps me learn the ropes. I’ve been absorbing the inundation of new information. I keep telling myself to be like Sponge Bob…become a sponge!

Haha, right?

But yes, things are going well. On my first day, I was privileged to sit in on new employee orientation, go to lunch with all the senior operations folks, have a two-hour one-on-one with the regional CEO, join the personal weekly updates of the "C"s at St. Fozzie's, and sat in on a physician recruitment brainstorming session. Coupled with the copious amounts of information being thrown at me throughout the day, the physician meeting kicked me over the edge, into information overload. On Monday night, during raging thunderstorms in the Chicagoland area, I took a glass of vino into the tub with me. I think that'll be a regular prescription for this exhausted fellow!

Tuesday, I joined the senior leadership team in the administrative boardroom (complete with leather chairs, coasters, and laptop pads) and got to ask a few more questions about some organizational changes at St. Fozzie's. Then I had the honor of observing in the system Board meeting. Being at least 20 years younger than every single participant (including the youngest nuns), I felt gracious just for the experience. So for the second day in a row, I was beat. I was thoroughly soaked and I felt that if I turn my head sideways, my brain matter will ooze out my ears. How's that for a visual?!

Wednesday, I was introduced in the leadership forum at the hospital and joined the medical staff meetings. Leadership forum is like a big cheerleading session, whereas medical staff meetings consist of doctors scrambling in to sign in (for their CME credits), grab a plate of food, and jet to the next commitment. The contrast between the two struck me as funny. I will admit that I have been eating pretty well. Despite not eating much at home, these luncheons have kept me nourished.

Today, I am back in town for another meeting at corporate. I really think that this week is one big test, as the senior execs throw me into whatever they can find. I requested some background literature on today’s meeting and Sister (yes, my superiors consist of CEO, CFO, COO, and Sister Lourdes…Sister is quite the pistol and she’s already keeping me on my toes) gave me two STACKS of books to read. She then asked me to have them read by yesterday. So that’s what I’m up against here! It’s great though, and even though I’m only four days into this job, it’s already a priceless experience.

Tomorrow, I have basic meetings at St. Fozzie’s and might actually get a chance to decorate my office. My office (having lucked into a huge space), is bigger than my living room. If I try hard enough, I can get my voice to echo. All joking aside, it was disconcerting to receive such premium office space, complete with the huge desk, bookcases, and file cabinets. Now I just need something to *put* in the huge office!

I will also admit that I’m ready for this week to end, just so I can stay in one place for a bit and SLEEP. I hope my body soon adjusts to this pace! Thank you for all your well wishes and prayers; your thoughtfulness and prayers have really buoyed me through this week. I will do my best to keep in touch, especially if Jack can successfully fix my DSL this weekend!

Quick Takes: Chicago Version

Quick takes from my first couple days as a Chicagoan:

1. I am happy to report that the old lady smell has vacated the house. It just smells like Glade, Lysol, and bleach. Those are smells with which I’m familiar!

2. We met the house’s owners when we arrived on Friday evening. The deadbolt locks stuck, so I requested that the owner fix that for me before he left. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a file from his back pocket. Who carries around a file in their pocket? My comment to Jack was, “Well, at least he didn’t pull the file out of his shoe because then he would have been a pedophile!” I know, don’t quit my day job!

3. Itching to explore the immediate neighborhood, Jack and I took off on a long walk. We heard of a miles-long bike path that runs through the neighborhood. We found the path, hereafter referred to as the ‘path of enlightenment’ and ended up walking for nearly two hours. After getting lost, we discovered that the streets wind about concentrically. Whoops.

4. There is a strange phenomenon we noticed in my neighborhood…a house was pranked. Instead of the traditional TP and instant mashed potatoes, the front yard was full of pink plastic flamingoes. A hand-written poster board was in the yard that said, “You’ve been flamingoed!” What in the world does that mean? Does anyone know?

5. We’ve visited Meijer several times now (the housewares people know us by name), but this Meijer is different. It’s like living in a dream sequence, where facets are similar, but everything is just a bit off. Think of when you’re on vacation and Friends comes on at 5:30 instead of 7:30. It’s that kind of eerie.

6. Speaking of television, I’ve chosen to forego cable (at least for now!) and stick with the meager listing of HD channels accessible to the public. Except that since I’m in Chicagoland, I get 35 channels and only two are in Spanish! Weirdly, TV Land is one of my channel options. Who knew that I’d get my fill of (free) Andy Griffith, Lucille Ball, and June Cleaver? Why couldn’t E! have been the freebie?

7. Jack and I visited a Chicago pizza institution the other night and experienced our first ‘real’ deep dish pizza. What started us more than the pizza-induced hallucinations was the Cubsmania around here. I don’t know if it’s because I’m on the south side, if Sox fans just aren’t as vocal about their loyalty, or if this might be the year! Just kidding, Edge!

8. Please have patience with me (and I’ll return that same patience to AT&T), as my DSL is broken. It’s honestly killing me and I need some sort of internet withdrawal intervention. Obviously, I have lots to share with you but it’s contingent upon Jack being able to connect with AT&T and figure out what’s amiss. I will continue to write and I will post them when I fudge internet access!