Stairway to Heaven

This was my view at about noon today. I accomplished a major feat. And my feet hurt!

As I posted before, I signed up for the Kohl's Step Up for Kids fundraiser to benefit Children's Memorial Hospital. This benefit allows participants to scale one of Chicago's highest skyscrapers (81 floors) in hopes of raising awareness and funds for Children's. It's a great cause and St. Fozzie's even sends a case there every now and then. It's the Riley's Children's Hospital of Illinois. Aside from it being a phenomenal cause, it was a physical challenge for me to motivate me through the "it's too dark and cold outside to exercise" days of January.

Anyway, I've been working out pretty regularly, 3-4 times a week. On a particularly-caffeinated evening last week, I climbed aboard the stairclimber at the gym (the one where you actually climb steps) and completed one practice round of 81 flights in just under 20 minutes. In my sodden shirt and red face, I was just proud I *could* do it.

So "go time" approached this morning and Jack and I drove into the city. It was our first experience of driving under Wacker and Water streets (it's the service level) and we thought we made a wrong turn. We couldn't find the garage we needed, so we parked in one of the public garages nearby (at $19 for three hours, I might add!). We went inside and I couldn't find the rest of my St. Fozzie's team. So I hopped in line (and there was a HUGE line, waiting to climb the stairs). After a half hour, I was *just* about to be let up on the stairs and my friend from work waved at me across the atrium. Drat!

I stepped aside and joined our group, grumbling the entire time. We (Jack was a trooper!) waited in line another hour and finally got to the front again. After standing around for almost 2 hours, I was ready to tackle those stairs! Our team left the safety of Jack and took the escalator up to level 2. Nerves took over and everyone was bouncing in place, gearing up that fight-or flight reaction. One-by-one, we crossed the electronic threshold and met 80 unanswered flights of concrete stairs.

I started slowly, resisting the urge to take them two-by-two. I paced myself and soldiered on. A few very athletic-looking guys passed me, but I held my own. There were water stands on every 10th floor (which was great, because the air was *so* dry and dusty in there). At the 10th floor, I was breathing hard, but gladly took the water and happily sipped my way through the next couple flights. The water stands were on the 10-20-30 floors and cheerleaders were stationed on the 5's. So 25-35-45, etc all had cheerleaders shouting at us. Floors 20, 40, and 60 all had thumping radio feeds from one of the local pop stations. It interfered with my ipod!

Around floor 15, I was alone in the stairwell. A few super-fast guys passed me and I passed a few slower folks. I had the place to myself, briefly enjoying how cool I felt, hiking to the top of a skyscraper.

By the 20th floor, I was still going strong because my mind adapted a bizarre coping mechanism. I was grooving to my ipod but found greater distraction in trying to figure out the fractions of my remaining climb. On the 21st floor, I was 21/81 finished. That worked out to 26% completion! Who-hoo! I don't remember much from floors 30-45 besides my shoddy math and some Black Eyed Peas, but I started to feel my lungs around floor 50. I reasoned that floor 50 was 62% completion and I was over half-way finished. Only 38% left! [pant, pant]

My legs could have done the 81 floors over again, but my lungs are really what felt the climb. At floor 58 (71%!), I shifted into my secondary coping mechanism: repeating a stupid, yet effective mantra to myself. I kept telling myself, "You are a machine. You are a machine. You don't need rest. Keep it going, one step at a time. You can, because you're a machine." [pant, pant]

It worked. I stepped through that burning in my chest, reminding myself that all I have to do is climb the next step. Climb the next 8, turn, climb the next 8, then I'll be at the next floor! Next thing I knew, it was the 75th floor and cheerleaders lined the stairwell walls, cheering for us to "keep going! You're looking great!" Easy for them to say! [pant, pant, PANT]

So my third motivating tactic kicked in...pride. I wanted to finish with a good time. My goal was to never stop and rest, finish in 30 minutes or less, and complete the climb. This 30 minute goal drove me the last 6 flights, because I forgot to stop and check my watch before I started! I knew this was for bragging rights and I pushed myself (hard) up those last few flights. I felt a few chills run down my spine. I couldn't tell if it was from the drafts in the stairwell hitting my damp shirt, my pushing myself to physical limits so that I saw stars, or because I felt such a thrill at finishing this awesome race.

I hit the 81st floor and bounded across the finish line. I grabbed a cup of ice water and walked off the stars and chills. At the top, there was a live band playing and plenty of bananas, oranges, and apples filled the tables. I sat on the window sill, overlooking the tremendous Chicago skyline, reveling in my achievement. Wow, that was a great experience!

The rest of my team found me and we took a few "after" photos. I was upset I didn't know my time but guessed it to be around 24 minutes. I figured I met all three of my goals. After lingering upstairs, I took a high-speed elevator back down to the main floor, grabbed a powerade, and found Jack. I promised Jack a lunch out in the city, but I didn't feel all that wonderful. I felt a bit lightheaded and just wanted to go home. So he took me home and I celebrated with a Quarter Pounder smothered in pepperjack. A great victory celebration!

In the evening, I pulled up the times on the event's website. I finished in 21 minutes!

I'm very excited to have this event under my belt. I've run a few 5 and 10k races, but this is a whole different game. I'm glad I stepped up to the challenge and JUST DID IT (Nike, past tense!). As with most things in my life, I can relate this to my professional life. My current situation feels like I'm hiking to the top of some hellacious mountain...but I know that in the end, I will be rewarded with the greatest views and feeling of accomplishment!

On Fire

I was finishing up a meeting Aunt Martha's last Friday and received an emergency page. Since our pagers are alpha-numeric, I quickly read, "CODE RED, Fozzie Heights, Chapel Area." I walked out into Admin to see if the assistants received the page, too. They did and we quickly came up with a list of possible causes:

"The altar candles might have caught something on fire."

"The incense is out of control!"

"Maybe the fire of the Holy Spirit came down upon St. Fozzie's?"

"Someone must have received a baptism by fire!"

"Man, someone's surely ON FIRE for Jesus!"

Naturally, the last one's my favorite!

Joke Journal: A Puzzle

Let me preface this by saying I usually do not support jokes that demean men, women, racial separation, class, societies, or professions. Or jokes that demean through hair color. Except if they're really funny and make me laugh out loud (not a small feat these days!)

So I apologize if any of my readers are blonde. Nurse Starbucks, you're the only one who immediately came to mind! :D


"A blonde calls her boyfriend and says, "Please come over here and help me. I have a killer jigsaw puzzle, and I can't figure out how to get started."

Her boyfriend asks, "What is it supposed to be when it's finished?"

The blonde says, "According to the picture on the box, it's a tiger."

Her boyfriend decides to go over and help with the puzzle. She lets him in and shows him where she has the puzzle spread all over the table.

He studies the pieces for a moment, then looks at the box, then turns to her and says, "First of all, no matter what we do, we're not going to be able to assemble these pieces into anything resembling a tiger."

He takes her hand and says, "Second, I want you to relax. Let's have a nice cup of tea, and then," he sighed, "let's put all these Frosted Flakes back in the box."

Quote Journal: Speed

"If everything seems under control, you're just not going fast enough."

-Mario Andretti

Just when I start feeling comfortable or not "crazy busy" for once, I know it's time to step up and take on something new.

While this can pertain to the "speed of life," I understand it in light of my development. What I'm still discerning is when to push the envelope or to let things be as-is. It's a fundamental facet of my personality to not upset people too much (hello, people pleaser!). In this role, I've been encouraged to step over people, roll over people, and pretty much just disregard how things have been done in the past.

I can't do that. Not yet, anyway. I'm not sure that responsible leadership does that. I'm also not sure if certain senior leaders are testing me to see just what I do in these situations. It's one more thing I'm sorting out as I go.

So as part of my "comfort zone" consists of this new, foreign style of interaction. I usually regard authority and policies pretty well. I'm a Rules Girl. When people push me to disregard those structures, I get nervous. I tend to step back. I remove myself from the situation, lest I be charged with rule-breaking. I hate rule-breaking unless I've previously determined the inadequacy or inconsistency of the rules. This takes time and research on my part!

This quote helped me gain some insight about this comfort zone of mine. While I might always be flying through life at 100 m.p.h. (and gratefully so), things might seem under control because I'm not challenging them enough. It's another balancing act I'm trying to learn.

Can I Manage the Colts?

It appears that a second job offer might be on the table. This is all happening so fast. Yet, it encompasses every spare waking minute of mine.

I cornered Elvis the other day and asked for a meeting, since we all had some down-time. He's the type to flop on the couch, crack open a beer (okay, it was an iced tea), and open the conversation by asking what I really thought of the New Orleans Saints' defensive attack on Favre. Were they trying to disable him?

See why I like it at Fozzie's? Football is considered viable (and preferred) conversation-starter. I earned some serious brownie points when, during our informal watching of the BSC championship game, I called Holding, Personal Foul, and Off-Sides. Personally, I think it disarms men when women know football. I have absolutely no idea what we're all going to talk about when the Super Bowl hooplah dies down. The Olympics? I think not.

Again, I digress.

So I talked to Elvis, brought forth my career documents, and was ready to tell him to offer me a job, goshdarnitalltofreakingheck! I had it up to HERE with people quasi-sneaking around me on this job thing. The VP of HR gave me some hints on Monday. EVOO gave me glaring promises last week. Jim Henson (via Elvis) gave me some insights a month ago. Even Edison's been hinting around. I caught sight of the VP of HR's stack of papers in a meeting, during which she was editing the job description EVOO described. Scanning the title, I realized it's a terrific opportunity. People in this type of jobs are usually hand-picked from the nation's best MBA programs. I'm honored, truly I am.

[And I'm not ready to spill the beans about this particular opportunity. Consider it strategic on my part.]

But the more I thought about it, it's not *exactly* what I want to do. Granted, I have no idea what the specifics are, but I'm not crazy about the 30,000 foot view.

Hence the Elvis cornering. I needed to know if this was all I was going to be offered because I was going to seriously contemplate hitting the national job market. In short, it wasn't. After a long and quite candid conversation, he essentially asked me what I want to do. I defined the exact job I want and his next question was "so who do you want to manage?"

I fought the temptation to answer, "The Colts, silly!"

I have no IDEA which departments I should manage in the hospital. Where did that come from? While I certainly NEED to get some hands-on managerial experience, I was counting on someone handing me the departments to manage...not being granted whatever departments I want by the CEO. A wee bit blindsided!

He never really answered me about my "dream" job I described in the meeting. However, I'm studying that organizational chart to figure out which departments exist (then I can figure out which ones I will have a decent shot at not running into the ground!).

Two senior administrators and two very different opportunities. I need that Vegas sign more than ever!!

Stroke It, Stroke It...STROKE!

I'm trying not to stroke out while I work on the stroke program.

When I took this on in late summer, I had no idea how bogged down with details it would become. The simple act of creating physician order sets has morphed into a time-consuming menagerie of meetings, during which there is one particular nurse who always wants her way. I understand where she's coming from, but if it's 19 to 1, she still thinks she's correct. It's her way or the highway. Some terminology isn't consistent and while that certainly needs to be fixed before we 'go live' on April 1, it's not going to break our stroke program. I get the feeling this particular nurse takes it as a sign of our collective, administrative incompetence.

This frustrates me. Obviously.

The not-so-simple act of creating a stroke treatment algorithm has grown into this huge debate about if Event A happens and Doctor B is tied up and what if we cannot reach Ambulance C, what will happen to the stroke patient? While I want to be prepared, this group seems to want to plan for EVERY POSSIBLE SITUATION, regardless of the fact that if it happened once since the Dark Ages, we'd be lucky. For instance, I asked Radiology to please present some data here. I already learned that decisions should be made on data, not emotion or perception. They PERCEIVE this happens a lot, but in reality, it's once or twice a year. I have a call in to the chief of Radiology to confirm this.

Sigh.

In my frustration and sheer exhaustion (I attended meetings, teleconferences, and worked for about 14 hours today), I made a list of "Remaining Crap as St. Fozzie's Pursues Stroke Designation."

It's 2 pages long. I keep coming up with more CRAP. The pieces ARE coming together, but with a list rivaling the length of the Declaration of Independence, I felt the compulsion to create this list and disseminate it to everyone on my Stroke Designation Operations Team.

It's not *that* bad…except that with our rigid timelines, I end up doing a lot of the work myself. I've delegated some things, but they are returned to me with errors or mistakes that should have been caught. In my proofreading, I find these errors and end up taking the time to correct them myself.

I had a bit of managerial coaching today from a mentor at St. Gonzo's. He says that managing entry level employees is far easier than managing professionals. I’m not so sure!

LBD

In my experiences at St. Fozzie's, I've really been thrust into the limelight far more often than I anticipated. Between fancy doctor dinners, the Gala, the golf outings, and semi-formal events at the area country clubs, I've ripped through the stash of semi-formal and formal gowns I accumulated in college.

I bought classic styles back then and thanks to my never-ending stress, I have a similar-sized body. However, I ran out of dresses and needed another fancy one, STAT!

The Medical Exec retreat downtown culminates in the Chicago Auto Show's First Look for Charity. It's a black tie event and people waltz around fancy cars, sipping champagne, posing for photos with the posh offerings, and hobnobbing with Chicago's finest. I was debating going, just for the experience of it. It's out of my price range...but since I'm speaking at the Med Exec event, I figured I better go to the First Look. I forked over the money and told Jack we're eating mac & cheese and PB&J sandwiches the next few weeks. Plus, it'll help build my political capital with the senior administrators from Muppet Corporate.

Fine. Now, about that dress.

I figured I have NO problem finding a dress. I figured I could walk right into Carson's, Macy's, or Penny's and pick one up. I've been avoiding the Chicagoland malls because, for some reason, I HATE dress shopping. On Saturday, I drug Jack to the mall and stood there with my mouth hanging open when, at all three stores, all that remained of the winter formal attire was one or two racks of picked-over, 75% off, stretch-jersey dresses (in ugly colors, I might add).

Panicking, I started planning my contingency. I could go to the black tie event in a sundress I wear on our cruises, RIGHT? Maybe with flip-flops?!

In one last-ditch effort, Jack suggested visiting White House, Black Market. Typically, this store is way above my price range. Desperation makes you do some wacky justification, though! I caught sight of a gorgeous, black silk frock that was made for my body. I put it on, trying to forget about the price tag, while the sales staff fawned over me and dressed me in fancy baubles, coats, and accessories. If Richard Gere was my benefactor, this would have been great and I would have taken it all! Alas, we have an uncertain future that necessitates some money savings these next few months. I decided on the very beautiful dress, figuring I could shop at garage sales to accessorize.

Coming home, I slipped the dress on again to admire its fabric and shape (I don't get out much). It's really unlike anything I've ever owned. In a flash of brilliance, I ran to the jewelry box and dug out the pearl choker, necklace, and earrings I wore for my wedding. It's elegant, makes good use of that jewelry I haven't worn in almost 9 years, and certainly befits a black tie event in Chicago. It's the above picture, minus the belt, and with pearls. Plus, y'know, add about 40 pounds. :)

WHEW. I cannot tell you how relieved (and superficial) I feel to have this dress situation solved!

Crayola Company

As Dorrie reminds me in the Batwoman post, there are so many things in the air: Questions that are unanswered; new options presenting themselves at every exit on this journey. I am not sure where this highway is taking me but Dorrie the trailblazer keeps me wondering. She just keeps swimming and I am following her to the end of the ocean.

P. Sherman

42 Wallaby Way, Sydney

If we end up in Sydney I will change my name to Nemo!

To be sure, I wish I had the crystal ball. I have worked (given my heart and soul) for Crayola Company for almost nine years. I recently returned to school for my MIS degree and have successfully passed two classes and I am enrolled in two more this semester. Working full-time and going to school part-time have kept my loneliness at bay and I have been ok living on my own and keeping house. Dorrie is always impressed when she comes back to the roost! Yes, it actually is clean!

Crayola Company has suited me well in these years. My possible parting ways has really put a scribble in Mr. Red's contigency planning for the whole company. As of last year, I was a lifer at the Crayola Company. Wax runs through my veins. I am very good at keeping in the lines. I understand all aspects of the crayon business from the wax, to the wrapper, all the way to the sharpener at the back of the box: I get it. So the bigger question exists: What the heck am I gonna do when I follow Dorrie?

I'm SO Not Batman (or woman)

I usually use this blog to showcase my work experience, think through random events and try to make sense of them, or to tell you funny or interesting tidbits from my existence. It's now that time again to vent. Get ready, because a whole projectile, technicolor verbal vomit is headed your way!

I'm scared.

I hate not knowing where I'm going to be and not being able to see the road in front of me. I hate that each new piece of career information is just creating more questions right now. In short, I hate uncertainty. If I could have one super talent like God, I'd surely pass up being able to grant myself a financial windfall or having x-ray vision to see through Keanu Reeves' clothes. The one super power I wish I had would be the ability to know the future.

The whole crystal ball notion is a bit cliche, but uncertainty is certainly where I cut my teeth, faith-wise. You'd think that after 30 years of a steady diet of religion, I'd be over this struggling by now. I should be able to know my uncertainties, step back, and let God handle everything. Yes, this is what the mature, faithful person does. They are able to let go and not let worries and uncertainties rob them of precious sleep.

Not that I did that. Nope. Not at all!

I know it WILL work out eventually. God wouldn’t have brought me this far for it to not work out. It’s just a little challenge/bump in the road. It doesn’t necessarily I get a free pass out of not questioning or struggling. In fact, that’s what makes faith stronger. Faith without challenge is easy, but it’s also worthless. God wants me and everyone else to think and struggle and all of that stuff because it’s that much better when everything works itself out and then you KNOW, y'know?

I'm trying hard not to believe because I've seen it (which isn’t what God wants). God wants belief and faith because I feel it, which also means that it’s not always perfect and I have to keep working at it. Grrr. Just like this time last year, I would like a big, glaring neon sign from God that says, "Work at St. Fozzie's, live in South Loop, and send Jack to night school because he will quickly land a great job in the city. You will be financially secure and will not have to worry about anything." I'd even take an answer like, "Quit your jobs, live in a shed, and go pick lice for a living."

Kudos to Therese for giving me the lice-picking idea. Nice!

Anyway, it's frustrating me to no end, 1) that my dumb imagination is running away from me, in regards to our future living/working situations AND 2) that I don't currently have enough faith to just let go and let God do His thing. If you're the praying sort, please drop a line to the Big Guy for me, for a glimpse of that Vegas-style neon sign (or the faith and peace to give it over to God)!

More Questions & Some Answers

I'm glad you all liked my gasoline conspiracy theory. I have others that I will share a later time.

In the foreground of my existence, I have much, MUCH bigger worries now. Well, not worries. Just more stuff I have to do, with firm deadlines, about which people will be watching me and continuing the yearlong tally of my overarching worth to the organization.

I'm not dramatic. Nope, not at all!

Anyway, I had an off-the-cuff phone conversation with Elvis on Friday (and learned the phone extension that rings through to his private line). I called him to see if I needed to attend the blessing and dedication of a Muppet hospital in Indiana. It would be great to witness, I argued, but it was going to take a whole work day away from me. He echoed my sentiments and agreed that I should stay back at Fozzie's.

I prepared to hang up the phone. He cleared his throat and said, "Dorrian, I need to put you on the spot about something."

"Yes?" I answered. I immediately felt flush, quickly flipping through the mental card catalog of my actions to see if something I did was illegal or unethical.

He answered, "I need you to speak to a group of people."

Relieved that it was an opportunity and not a verbal lashing, I exhaled, already thinking of which powerpoint background I could employ in my presentation. Then I heard the rest of his sentence:

"I need you to speak to a group of people...who will number about 100, are mostly physicians, at the Four Seasons downtown. You're speaking at the Medical Executive retreat in early February."

Hmmm. Well, that certainly complicates things. I'm a good public speaker. Not a great one. I'm not really nervous about this, just hopeful I will prepare well enough. I'm trying to view this as an opportunity to practice and improve. I feel very...fortunate to receive an invitation to such a prestigious hospital event.

So after I agreed and promised to "rock the gig," I took the opportunity to ask him a few other things. First, there's a conference I want to attend in March, through American College of Healthcare Execs. I offered to pay and he quickly dismissed that notion as Muppet Corporate would gladly pay for that. I mentioned that my continued progress in ACHE was part the career development plan and matrix I created for myself.

His response was, "Yeah, I heard about that matrix you created; EVOO filled me in." He then asked, "And when are you sharing these documents with me?" I promised him that we'd talk next week and his response was something like, "Good, because we've been talking about where to use you."

And yes, all these quotes are verbatim. I burned them into my brain's hardwiring for future reflection. When Jack and I talk about my (our) future, we just need to know two things...will I have a great job with Muppet and in which city will I work? If we can establish those two pieces of the puzzle, we can set many other things into motion...such as looking for a condo/townhome wherever I will work, preparing current home for selling, not having to worry about preparing our current home for selling, saving every penny we can, moving me and my Chicagoland belongings to wherever (or moving them back), and keeping our sanity in tact while all this transpires. I had to take a deep breath while writing this.

Even though Elvis and EVOO have communicated Muppet's interest in me, long-term, I still do not know where I'm going to be stationed. Sigh. In my strengths and weaknesses that I plotted out in my career matrix, I stated impatience to be my biggest weakness!

Random Thoughts on a Friday

It's time for the next installment of "Random Thoughts." I've been driving a lot lately and have this time to think about strange things. Plus, my energy quota is about shot for this week.

1. You know you're in Indiana when, on the highway, you pass the largest semi truck you've ever seen...carrying an even bigger John Deer tractor.

2. That same highway is pre-treated with pretty lines of salt, in preparation for the freezing *crap* forecasted to begin falling within the hour. Pretty lines! How are they so straight! Don't drive off the road, Idiot!

3. I don't mind going to a new Muppet hospital (or any hospital, really). Once you get to within a mile or two, you can just start following those blue "H" signs denoting a hospital.

3.5. I love making mix cd's (or play lists) from our vacations, but after the 2,493th time hearing the cd, even Bob Marley and steel drums cannot transport me to the Caribbean.

4. Why is it that people will wait 2-3 minutes for me to load up my car and vacate my parking space that is close to the gym's entrance? Aren't they there to, um, work out? Will walking an extra 100 feet break them from that marathon training they're planning inside?

5. Would anyone mind if I ditched the suit for a day and wore my Adidas pants and ND sweatshirt?

6. Male manicurists are the best.

7. It really bothers me when I drive by the funeral home/crematorium in southern Chicago and see black smoke churning out of the chimney. First, wouldn't it be creepy to attend a funeral somewhere and *know* there was another body going up in flames nearby? And why does it remind me of Nazi Germany? AND what if Al Capone still has family in the area and someone's 'sleepin' wit the fishes?'

8. I cannot stand haircuts that remotely remind me of Kate Gosselin's old 'do.

9. Why couldn't I stop laughing when someone, in a meeting, slipped up and instead of saying "peer group questions," said "queer group pestions?"

10. What if the whole concept of filling up your car's gas tank was a corporate joke? What if there was no such thing as liquid gasoline and your car really did run on regular air? The "gas gauge," depending on your make and model, would decrease according to your driving style. Then, it would invariably tip toward empty, necessitating that you stop at a gas station, spend $3 a "gallon" to refill your tank, when in reality, a little lever inside your "gas tank" figures it's about full and the gas station secures its profits. As I stand there at the gas pump, freezing my rear off in my heels and trench coat that doesn't block the howling Chicago winds, I wonder if this whole "gas filling" thing is an unnecessary task that only (thickly) lines corporate pocketbooks at BP and Exxon?

Who's with me on this!? Who even knows what the h*** I'm talking about?!

It's Not Rocket Science...

...It's Brain Surgery!

I had two lunches with a bunch of incredibly smart people today. The first one was at the Inpatient Rehab open house, to introduce a new physiatrist to the fold. I talked to Dr. PrettyEyeLashes for over 20 minutes about the stroke program and the data collection methods we are using to drive volume our way. He had some great ideas about standardization of our volumes, especially from academic medical centers' inpatient rehab needs. I intend to segue this to a system-level discussion regarding standardized scorecards for all referral streams.

Then I had dessert (while they had lunch) with a group of brain surgeons today. Actually, they were neurosurgeons, but they all specialize in brain surgery. We will soon be offering brain surgery at St. Fozzie's. Yeah, it came as a shock to me, too! They use this very fancy, very expensive linear accelerator that allows the brain neurosurgeon to yuwhifj jilq a swlie bieflp dqpzls sa rac gkalsi. That means they were talking so far over my head I cannot even relay the story to you and it sounded like gibberish to me. Regardless, it's a referral stream for our primary care physicians and inpatient rehab.

I led a Physician Partnership Team meeting and while it was good, I feel like I need to inject more energy into the group. So I recruited one of our lively durable medical equipment salespeople to come in and talk to the team about value propositions and selling St. Fozzie's. She's a lot better at it than I am; might as well use her charisma and experience to light everyone on fire.

After that, I had my one-on-one with EVOO. I got my first job offer! It's a Director-level position and while it's great that I have an offer on the table, I'm still going to show my career matrix to Elvis and Jim Henson. I have no idea what they're thinking about my future...but showing the senior leaders my grandiose plans and ambitions is already off to a great start.

Cat's On The Bag

I went to St. Animal's today, for another all-day class in the Six Sigma series. While I totally want to become a Six Sigma guru some day, these classes serve as more of a break for me than an educational experience. The moderators and facilitators are good, but we have a lot of fun, too. There is a lot of "down time" during which we can discuss our projects, thoughts, comments, and what the nearest mall has on sale.

We don't just talk about the mall.

We share coupons for the mall.

We VISIT the mall after class.

There, the cat's out of the bag. It's a Coach bag. And actually, the cat's laying *on* the Coach bag.

And I'm going to go and perfect my career/vocational documents for my meeting tomorrow. Wish me luck; either everything will happen or nothing will happen.

Vortex of Terror

I must admit that my first thought when I stepped over the threshold of my Chicagoland pad last night was, "Oh man, my work life is a screaming vortex of terror."

And then I considered it to be an understatement.

I had a mini-break down then decided that crying and whining was too much of a time-waster for me. Even though I worked on and off all weekend, I had crazy deadlines to meet. I wrote a proposal detailing our ER Throughput success story, for submission to a conference in June; I had to create this mammoth, gigantic flowchart detailing the structure of the 35-page grant that the Muppet System is submitting to the government (which was my idea dumb idea); I had all this stroke stuff going on with crucial meetings this week; AND I have a big meeting with EVOO on Thursday to discuss my future career paths.

Somehow, between working into the wee hours and getting up in the wee-er hours to finish, I got it all done. I submitted the proposal which was already accepted by the conference organization. Not to go on a narcissistic bender or anything, but I'm 3 for 3 on these conference submissions. It's a great feeling, but it's already biting me in the rear as Sister Lourdes and Muppet Corporate want me to put in for a national leadership award for the hospital. Um, yeah right.

Then I finished the mammoth flowchart and sent it off to my co-patriot in the massive AHRQ grant-writing process, Edison. He liked it and encouraged me further. So I hunkered down with my Starbucks double-shot and finished it. It. Was. Massive. You try describing a 35-page, $3M dollar development project in one 11x17 chart! It looked like the Kennedy family tree...

However, it is finished, the grant application was submitted by Edison, and he already received notification from the government that it is verified. WHEW. Time to clink the champagne glasses!

After all that hooplah, I allowed myself to sleep for 4 hours. Then I started in on the stroke facets. I co-presented four standing orders for treatment of stroke with our chief neurologist (I will call him Grumpy), to the Internal Medicine Department Meeting today. Grumpy is a terrible speaker and it turned out he didn't want to present the sets because he was NERVOUS, not because he didn't like the sets. I felt like saying, "Look buddy, get over your nerves, this hospital needs you!" As I fielded questions about the stroke designation process, the treatment algorithm we're developing, and the stroke protocol we're creating for when patients present at the ER. It's been a messy process, with each question spawning five additional questions. However, the order sets PASSED Internal Med, the algorithm is nearly complete, and the protocol is probably 75% complete. We're getting there and if it kills me, I'm getting St. Fozzie's stroke certified.

That being said, I had NO idea what went into order set creation. I feel like I deserve an honorary degree in Neurology. Okay, maybe just a temporary degree. :)

Nurse education starts next week so I do have a fair amount of stroke "stuff" left to accomplish. But this first big obstacle of Internal Med is cleared; this is where attempts to designate St. Fozzie's have failed in the past. This is cause for celebration (and perhaps, a stress let-down migraine).

The last big thing I have to complete in the next 24 hours is my career matrix. Yes, a matrix. I started by creating a road map of where I thought I could go and where I wanted to go, career-wise. It morphed into an organized set of squares, so I'm going with the matrix theme (no Keanu, though). Because this fellowship has been a big case of "figure out what you want to do then figure out a way to do it," I am taking the same approach with my career after the fellowship. Technically, I am down to four months here at Fozzie's and I'm not keeping it a secret that I'm updating my resume. Hopefully, they will clamour over me. Actually, I'm just hoping I have a good job at the end of this stomach-churning, mind-numbing stress!

Quote Journal: The Present

"How often we forget it's the 'here and now' that's important. Setting our sights on our destination, planning for tomorrow, worrying about the future, rushing towards whatever's over the next hill...phew! This causes us to neglect the beauty of the present."

Duly noted!

By the way, this is from Sister Lourdes' daily quote calendar. She tore it off and gave it to me. I will have it laminated. And I know, this is the second quote journal this week. I can't help myself when I stumble across these good ones!

Jazz Hands

Even though I was sick on Friday and couldn't attend the physician party to which I was invited Friday night, Jack came to visit me in Chicagoland. To make the most of our time living so close to downtown, we decided to utilize a gift card I won at the hospital's gala and try a new sushi restaurant, Tamarind. We went into town a little early and had a light dinner of Godzilla and Spicy Windy Maki rolls. The place was minimalist and non-descript, but the sushi was great. Half of sushi-eating is the experience and it did not disappoint.

Jack and I were itching to try a couple new venues. One was located around the corner from Tamarind in South Loop, called Kasey's Tavern. It's been there since the 1930's and has unique microbrew beers for $3/pint on Saturday's. So we stopped in for a pint (I had Bell's from K-zoo, very good) and enjoyed the eclectic atmosphere of such an old pub. Plus, we finished up the NFL play-off game as the Saints dominated the field.

The second venue was Andy's Jazz Club , across the river. We heard rave reviews on this place and since we increasingly like jazz (particularly live jazz), we decided to give it a try. The place was packed and I felt resigned to sit on the window and listen to the tremendous jazz. I felt like I should have been wearing a slinky black dress and smoking a cigarette out of one of those sticks. Jack ran to the restroom and I noticed he was flagging me over from across the room. He tried to get us a table but the only table available was for six...and there just happened to be two couples also trying to nab a table. So we plopped down with complete strangers and had a phenomenal time!

The jazz was excellent. Just excellent. Even if you're not a devout fan (I greatly enjoy jazz but am by no means a connoisseur yet), you could not help but tap your foot and bop your head to the bass, piano, and trumpet. It ended up becoming one of those memorable nights I will never forget...especially as our table mates tipped the hostess to let us keep our table. They had a two hour maximum and we were already at three hours by that point! We stayed for over four hours, absorbing every beat. I kept fighting the urge to do "jazz hands!"

Bodyboarding in Antigua

I should quit my hospital administrator gig and become a travel agent.

Last weekend, during our wine tasting and miscellaneous relaxation time, Jack and I gazed out the window, stared into the Arctic Wasteland that is currently Chicagoland, and came to the same conclusion: it's time to start planning our next vacation.

So here's the trick, how does one plan a vacation when one has no idea of the timeline of her next job assignment? Do I plan a trip and tell the powers-that-be that, forget work, I'm going to the Caribbean? What if I have to relocate across the state? What if we have one week in which to move and I'm busy beaching bumming it? Do I fore go packing and moving time to visit my favorite white sand beach in Antigua? Okay, I've never been to Antigua, but the cruise ship's itinerary I'm researching stops there for a whole ten hours.

Cruises are great. They're quickly becoming our favorite way to travel. You only unpack once and while your stateroom is the size of a walk-in closet, you're not there very often. You wake up, exercise, get a healthy breakfast in the cafe (that has wall-to-wall windows overlooking the gorgeous azure sea), get dressed, and walk off the ship to that day's port of call. After 8-10 hours of adventure and sun, you re-board the ship, get showers, don a cute sundress, and go to formal dinner in the dining room. After dinner, you see a Broadway show, a comedian, or even take dance lessons. It's wonderful. Then the waves rock you to sleep and you sleep like a baby.

The alternative is to fly down to Florida or the Caribbean, rent a condo, and veg out for a week on the beach. It's a lot less exciting, but it *is* relaxing. Jack was bitin' at the bit to book SOMETHING, for half the fun of a tropical vacation (or any vacation, really) is the anticipation of the trip. But I held him back and promised that AS SOON as we find out what's going on with my job, we'll book a trip. Hopefully, it's that cruise to Antigua!

Jack in the Box

As an FYI to all blog-readers, I've recently granted Jack authorship to this blog. He's proven his grammatical and poetic prowess and I've invited him to occasionally contribute. I've instructed him to please not reference science fiction or Doctor Who, but please consider yourselves forewarned!

Stress Caught Up with Me

Well, my stress and 80-hour weeks caught up with me. The last two weeks in particular have been non-stop. I come home at 8 or 9 p.m., wonder if I should forego the gym or grocery shopping to continue working. I knew I was on borrowed time...

...but I feel like the only employee in the entire world who, after writhing on the bathroom floor for a few hours, is still expected to churn out papers, proposals, flowcharts, and other documentation from the plethora of meetings.

So while I've been at home today, nursing my poor gastro-intestinal tract, I've been studiously typing away on my laptop, trying to meet and surpass everyone's expectations. Sigh. When I emailed Elvis to let him know I'd be working from home today, he wrote back a simple, "Ok." Scrolling down on his response, however, was a quote he must have added in the last day or so. It said, "Nobody can do everything, but everyone can do something." -Author Unknown.

That, in itself, gave me license to relax and *gasp* take a short nap. I'm doing something, even if my sickly body won't let me do everything.

Normally, I would rejoice in the fact that today is Friday, but I know I have to go into the office tomorrow and work for a few hours. I didn't bring home every project on which I need to make progress this weekend. Plus, I am meeting with EVOO next week to discuss future career paths. I have this weird compulsion to create an actual road map for myself.

Bag of Worms

I experienced my second Legal review yesterday. This is where the medical malpractice lawyers come to St. Fozzie's and talk about the present cases for which we are on the hook. We explore our liability, what happened in the case, and try to identify any procedural anomalies that might have occurred. We hope to stop that same mistake from happening again. As I've written before, Illinois is a very medical malpractice-happy state and patients here will sue you for anything. Most of the time we *do* make some mistake in these cases. However, in other, more friendly states, the hospital might get sued for $250,000. Here, in Illinois, that same case might go for $3-4M. It's just the way it is.

Anyway, we suffered through a FOUR HOUR case review. No one thought to order food, so we starved through the whole thing. After the lawyers left, senior leadership had a meeting scheduled to review the case notification process. For instance, we had a bad case back in early 2006. The statue of limitations had formally run out, but some weird twist to the case allowed the plaintiffs to refile. St. Fozzie's got hit with a $9M reserve, because this case may fetch $20-25M if and when it goes to trial. That $9M reserve hit our books and made it a bad, bad year. So we want THAT to never happen again, either.

Before we started the legal process review, we took 5 minutes to run down the cafeteria and grab food. It was hysterical, because with her sandwich, Sister Lourdes toted in the 3 lb bag of sour gummy worms someone got her for her birthday (okay, it was me and it was a joke). I was internally snickering for about 10 minutes because with this legal process review, we weren't just opening a can of worms, we were opening a BAG OF WORMS. The fact that Diet Mt Dew was flowing liberally only fueled the ADD.

It went well and I better understand the risk management, insurance, reinsurance, excess, captives, and PPIC coverage that the hospital maintains. However, it was still one of those meetings that reminded me of how green I still am. I have to work *so* hard to understand everything they're talking about. Nonetheless, I feel fortunate to have a pass into such meetings.

SBAR

Another lesson in variation...

"SBAR" is a hand-off tool that Muppet Corporate is suggesting that nursing units use when handing off their patients. It stands for Situation, Background, Assessment, and Recommendation and it's a proven methodology for consistent and safer communication. When I was asked to lead the SBAR implementation project at St. Fozzie's, I figured, how hard can this be? Just get everyone to use the same methodologies for hand-off's? No problem!

We had our first brainstorm the other day. We filled up 6 sheets of newsprint. My hand cramped from scribbling everyone's thoughts and words. This is what I learned from that first brainstorm:

1. There are actually TEN different kinds of hand-off's. Everything counts from ER to Unit, Unit to Unit, Shift to Shift, Unit to OR, etc. Caregiver-to-caregiver.

2. There is a whole separate form (and hand-off process) for charge nurse hand-off's. Charge nurse-to-charge nurse.

3. And physician communication, when nurses must call the physicians.

So yes, the project suddenly morphed into a brainstorm from hell. Actually, what I experienced was a migraine of a brainstorm!

It was good, though, because we talked through the process. As it turns out, each unit uses its own SBAR form. None of them actually follow the SBAR format, but they have pieces of it. So I formed one task force to develop the caregiver-to-caregiver SBAR tool that will be used on all units. This task force will seek the input of front-line staff; projects like this are far more successful if you obtain their buy-in. It will work, because we'll give them the "S," "B," and "R" and let them modify the "A" to fit their individual units' needs. It'll be standardization that fits all units. Hurray!

Then we agreed to tackle the physician hand-off tool. Luckily, we can borrow a template from a neighboring hospital and adopt it to St. Fozzie's. I can make these changes and will be rolling this out to the appropriate committees next week.

The charge nurse-to-charge nurse piece was not touched. That's for next week.

Okay. Now. When is that Overachievers' Anonymous meeting?! We can do Mensa puzzles next!

Quote Journal: Passion

"A life without passion is not living, it's merely existing." -Leo Buscaglia

I'm not sure who Leo Buscaglia is, but I love this quote. I've been reading a lot about passion lately, through some of my managerial literature (I amended my New Year's resolution about taking baths to include that IN the tub, I'd get through the stack of managerial literature I've been asked to read).

Passion is an interesting trait I'm trying to ascertain whether I have. Passion is a heartfelt, deep excitement for life. Yes, it pertains to work and passionate people care deeply about their work. But they also care deeply about everything and everyone in their lives. In short, they love to learn and grow and like to see everyone else learning and growing, too.

I'd like to think I'm on fire for life like this. Truth be told, I many co-workers and managers have called me passionate. Personally, I think my "passion" rears its head when I've had enough coffee. My passion is directly proportional to the amount of caffeine I've ingested.

Seriously, though, I'm not sure that passion is something one can strengthen. However, I can increase my awareness of these moments and keep my energy level as positive as possible. No one likes a personality who enters a room and sucks the energy out with their nay-saying and pessimistic attitudes. With my impending career changes in the coming months, these are the intangible lessons on which I'm working...from my bubble baths!

What Was He Thinking?!

I survived my first Muppet corporate executives' meeting on Monday. Held at St. Rowlf's, it was like Corporate operations, but on steroids. All the nurse administrators, HR people, and Finance people were there, too.

Jim Henson kept saying the group was the "100 Top Execs" in the system. *I* know I'm not a top exec. As much as I aspire to be, I am not there yet. I respect the fact (and reality) that becoming a top exec takes years and years. It takes a long time to earn that kind of respect. So I didn't count myself in as one of the "100 Top Execs" at first. The more I sat there, though, I tried to own just a smidgen of it. I tried on that title "Executive" again, trying to feel comfortable in that skin. It's a big change, compared to where I've come from in the system. I worked my way up, obtaining a total of 4 promotions in 6.5 years. Maybe I will be a top exec some day. So yes, when he calls us the "Top Execs," I'm going to own a tiny piece of that, even if it's just for the future.

All went well. I had a social lunch, talking to three of my favorite senior VP's at Corporate, about process improvement and the eventual publication of our work. Okay, it's time to name them. I'll call them Newton, Fleming, and Edison. Fleming suggested I submit a piece to the New England Journal of Medicine. After snickering in his face, I realized he was serious. I then talked to Newton, the process improvement guru about submitting to another conference this year. We have a formidable amount of work we can tout to other systems. For the record, Edison is the one with whom I've been working on the huge, system-wide, patient safety grant. I also ran into Davidoff, my former VP when I worked at corporate. Despite the fact that Davidoff always looks uber-surprised to see me at the high-brow corporate meetings, lunch went well.

Settling back in for the afternoon session, I gave my attention to the next VP, Davidoff, who took the stage. Davidoff talked about how great the team is back at Corporate and how dependable they are (which is true). He then started talking about *me* and how great I am and how smart I am and SURPRISE! She's here with us, a part of our team now! He talked about my education and how I've risen through the ranks so quickly. He asked the execs to applaud me and my hard work these last few years.

My face was on fire. I'm surprised the turtleneck I was wearing under my suit didn't catch fire. I'm surprised I didn't spontaneously combust. How could he do this to me? While I always appreciate the applause, it felt humiliating for him to single me out…especially when he brought attention to the fact that I'm new, I'm young, and I'm still climbing the ladder. Jack thinks he did it to bolster his own self and publicize his department at corporate. I felt like I was two inches tall, and suddenly, didn't feel quite so welcome at the meeting. I stopped owning that "Top 100 Execs" title I so graciously adopted two hours earlier.

The next speakers, Newton, Edison, and Fleming talked about some of their system-wide plans and endeavors. One of these, of course, is the huge system-wide patient safety grant. Edison singled me out in front of the group, but it was in an affirming way, to genuinely thank me for the questions I raised during the process. THAT kind of recognition is good. I felt better about Davidoff's weird welcome and spotlight on me.

After the meeting, I chit-chatted with a few other people and drove back to St. Fozzie's for an hour layover. I had a physician dinner meeting from 5:30-9:30 (yes, 4 hours), and I needed to clear my head. I'm not sure what all of this meant, but I'm trying to frame it in a positive light. And maybe, Davidoff really stuck his neck out for me and since I am perceived to be doing well, he wanted credit. Who knows. All I know is that it's only Monday and I'm beat! Better schedule a bath in the ol' Blackberry!

Good Eats--Italian Style

Because of the feet of snow predicted in the lake effect snow belt between SB and Chicago, Jack opted to come and visit me in my Chicagoland home. While we had a couple parties to attend in SB, I was glad to stay in Chi. For one, I keep finding restaurants I want to visit with Jack.

So on Friday night, we met at a cozy Italian pub on the south side of Chicago, Popolano's. They're known for thin crust pizza, so we gave it a whirl. It was excellent; sweet sauce and flaky pastry dough made for a great pizza. Italian sausage is never sub-par in the south side, either! We've had a couple deep dish pies along our "pizza journey" in Chicagoland, but you have to be in the mood for deep dish.

On Saturday, after awakening naturally and to glorious sunlight streaming in the windows, we lingered over coffee and relaxed. It felt a bit like vacation (and I may start considering my Chi house a vacation home and re-arranging it as such). Anyway, the day was ours so after hitting the gym, we visited Cooper's Hawk Winery in Orland Park. I visited Cooper's Hawk for two physician lunches in previous weeks, but wanted to go back with Jack and actually try some of the wine. This place was *so* popular; we went at 3:30 p.m., the bar was packed, the restaurant had an hour wait, and we had to wait in line to do some wine tasting! So much for going early!

We tried nine different wines, ranging from a sparkling peach to a heavy Cabernet to a fruity blueberry wine to a wonderful riesling gewurztraminer. We bought a bottle of the Cooper's Hawk red and it'll be a good wine to age and open on a special occasion. We had so much fun and spent almost 2 hours tasting these wines.

Since the restaurant wait was still over an hour, we got in the car and drove through Tinley Park. There are a few restaurants down there I want to visit, but we didn't feel like paying $30-45 for an entree. Hopping back on the expressway, we ended up at Gino's. It's a great place to sit and linger; we knew we wouldn't be rushed out. Instead of pizza, we ordered Italian beef and sausage. Notice a pattern here?

We eat an awful lot of Italian out here in southern Chicago! Mob roots usually equate to phenomenal food.

Most people have a bit of Italian in there, including Nurse Jackie, the CNO at Fozzie's. Everyone knows I'm heavily involved in process improvement projects around the hospital. Nurse Jackie, somewhat familiar with process improvement mapping, is always commenting that we need a "spaghetti diagram." Likely suggestion from an Italian woman, of course she wants spaghetti anything!

Epiphany Towels

Yesterday, I woke up early and for once, easily bounded out of bed. I be-bopped around my house, getting ready and styling myself for the day. I picked out my very favorite stylish black pumps (I start my suit selection according to what shoes I'm "feeling" that day) and decided it was going to be a great day. Gathering up my bags to leave, I finally glanced outside…to see the six inches of sloppy white snow that fell throughout the night.

So much for those clean, dry roads!

After hurriedly clearing my car off (while totally cursing Midwestern weather) in old, cruddy sneakers, I hit the road. I figured the interstate would be clearer, so I headed that way. As I made use of the infamous Chicago traffic reports, I heard that Inbound Eisenhower was 2.5 hours, the Tri-State was 2 hours, and the Borman Expressway was a parking lot, I quickly decided to turn around and try my luck at the backstreets. After driving on *snot* for an hour and 20 minutes, I finally arrived at work. This was not before I slid through two intersections and almost got T-boned by a stupid semi driver who was TEXTING.

Anyway, the day went well. Several of my meetings were made into teleconferences, namely the four hour Press Ganey training. First there was an executive overview. Then there was a managerial overview. Then there was this session on goal setting (through which I chatted with Nurse Nancy, one of the Directors, for if we didn't know how to set goals, would we *really* be sitting in the boardroom?!). Then there was a session on facilitating. That was actually informative, as I've been through the Press Ganey brainstorming process before. Now I get to lead it. It's a great HR immersion and I'll gobble up that experience for my resume.

So as the day progressed, the weather looked scarier and scarier outside. Being the perpetual boy scout (always be prepared), I threw an extra suit in my trunk. Since I have a standing invite at the Sisters' convent (inside St. Fozzie's), I took them up on the offer. I happily worked into the evening, catching up on a lot of my homework from the other night. As 8pm drew closer and the other "Convent invitees" were meandering through the hospital trying to stave off boredom, Elvis threw an impromptu football party. He has a flat screen tv in his office and Sister, a couple of directors, and me joined him for the National Championship game. It was a weird turn of events, but I think the five of us really bonded as we yelled our way through that poor freshman quarterback's baptism by lava!

After the game, we went to our respective guest rooms. Since I'm a girl, I got to stay inside the actual convent. Boys have to stay down the hall (it's very old-school!). I chuckled to myself when I cleaned up for bed in the personal bathroom off the guest room. They provided Wisemen towels. As in, to celebrate Epiphany. Each towel of the three-piece set depicted the Magi following a star. I felt bad wiping my black eyeliner on the Wisemen and defacing the Epiphany miracle, so I used a wad of kleenex instead. Isn't that counter-productive?

So yes, a terrifying commute, a BCS game at work, and Epiphany towels. All in one day!

Refresher

For anyone who might have joined the blog lately, here's a brief refresher of the characters and locations starring in this blog:

Muppetville: the entire hospital system.
Muppet Corporate: The Corporate Office to which St. Fozzie's belongs; head of the system.
Jim Henson: President of Muppetville.

The system hospitals:
St. Fozzie's, St. Kermit's (north and south), St. Rowlf's, St. Piggy's, St. Animal's, St. Gonzo's, BeakerGroup, St. Bunson, and St. Swedish Chef. The only two hospitals I have not visited in my system-wide travels are St. Piggy's and St. Swedish Chef.

St. Fozzie's: the hospital at which I work, since June 1, 2009.
Elvis: my direct boss, Regional CEO of the St. Fozzie's facilities.
EVOO: another sort-of boss, COO of St. Fozzie's.
Nurse Jackie: the only other woman I work with regularly, the CNO of St. Fozzie's.
Sister Lourdes: VP at St. Fozzie's.
Rocco: the Director of PR and Development at St. Fozzie's.

Other people appearing semi-regularly:
Dorrie: duh, that's me.
Jack: my husband.
SkyBlue and Lou: my mom and dad.
Mom D: Mom D.
Brady and Zibby: brothers.
The Edge: dearest friend from, like, the womb.
Nurse Starbucks: dearest friend from highschool.
Therese: dearest friend from neighborhood and church.
Lula: dearest friend with similar Super Mario, wine, and Starbucks fetishes.
Yoshi: dearest friend and cousin.
Bewley: dearest friend from Ireland.

Cutting Administrative Teeth

Do you ever have one of those days where you simply swear you've lived two or three days in the span of one? I've had three of those days in a row. So for me, it's, like, Saturday.

I'm sitting on my couch, working on my laptop in pj's. I needed a reflective intermission from my week, before I dive into several work projects I must complete. EVOO charged me with the creation of yet another ER reporting mechanism I need to figure out, I have two pieces of the system-wide grant to write (and three more to edit), a very sensitive email to scribe to our nearest and dearest neurologist about a medical directorship in the stroke program (it follows the very sensitive formal letter I wrote a couple weeks ago), a massive Six Sigma diagram that encompasses the entire Surgery Throughput process (we need a billboard to properly document this), a final draft of March's article to the healthcare engineering journal, and I have to re-write a policy for Sister Lourdes. The policy is regarding the 'morning-after pill' and its use in Catholic hospitals for rape victims. Apparently, Catholic Health America has a stance on this that is...decidedly un-Catholic. So we debated it yesterday and I need to re-write this thing so it best meets both the Sisters' desires and CHA's new guidelines.

And that's all tonight. So why am I blogging? Because I need to record some of my life these last few days. This will be a long post, but consider it a make-up for all the humorous notes I posted during Christmas!

I knew this week would hit hard. Even last week, my calendar was booked solid this week; several days were booked to 15-16 hours. I am cutting some serious administrative teeth! Monday started innocently enough, with me doing a bit of planning and organizing for the week. I compiled agendas, touched base with EVOO and Elvis, and buzzed the ER to check on the Aunt Martha's referral process. I created a checklist of leases and contracts needed for physician recruitment. I went over stroke order sets with a couple neurologists. I prepped for the four-hour Six Sigma meeting I was leading on Tues. We're walking through the process flow of Surgery, including peri-op's. It was decent...I left after about 12 hours and even got a bath in that night. Remember my New Year's resolution to relax more!? Check!

So yesterday, I arrived early to attend the physician recruitment meeting, then visited the CV service line director for help on the Chicago's academic medical center meetings this week, then ducked into a strategy meeting on patient payer mix (while sitting there, got the debrief from Sister Lourdes about the policy needing updating), drove across town, led the Six Sigma meeting (which went surprisingly well, despite the vast material through which we have to plod), hit a Joint Commission preparation meeting, then had exactly 23 minutes to sit in my office and reply to emails. A couple VP's from Muppet Corporate had asked me to draft a couple new parts of the draft and EVOO swung by to ask about the creation of the ER tracking mechanism.

Part of me wonders if they're trying to get me to admit I'm overwhelmed. Or if I know when to say "no." Or in my case, "HELL NO, are you FREAKING kidding me?" But I just grind my teeth together, force out a smile, choke out a "sure!" and escape back to my office to jot it down before I forget.

Anyway, 23 minutes later, I jumped in my car and drove downtown for a strategic planning meeting with the cardiologists. While the conversation was lively, it was draining and I felt like the kid at the dinner table who didn't quite know what was going on. I kept having to ask Nurse Jackie for clarification. By the time I finally got home, it was well after 10 and I forgot about taking a bath. I probably would have drowned!

Then this morning, I felt hungover as my alarm clock blared its sorry welcome into 5:30 a.m. I staggered into the bathroom, knowing I had to hurry if I was going to get ready and make it to St. Animal's in time for the regional Six Sigma educational course (it's an 8- hour thing that happens every two weeks). For the first time in my administrator life, I was LATE. I brewed coffee, fired up the laptop, and did two hours' worth of work before I even left. The Six Sigma class is good and it's officially mandatory to go, but they understand we're all professionals here and we'll attend when we can. So I went two hours late. It was...weirdly liberating!

After Six Sigma class at St. Animal's, I met Jack for dinner out there. We talked for a couple hours and caught up...we're not used to seeing each other during the week and it was great. As we were talking, I received an email from a patient safety conference to which I submitted back at the end of summer. They accepted my proposal and I was asked to teach at the seminar! Being considered "faculty" is a very neat idea, but I may or may not go. As thrilled as I am, St. Fozzie's may elect to send someone from the "front lines" to represent the patient safety measures we are instituting. It's awesome news, though, and I'm just happy to get our name out there, nationally! I phoned Sister Lourdes and will know more in the coming days. How neat is it that this next conference is also in Florida?

So that's been my last three days. I keep reminding myself that I signed up for this madness! Now...on to that to-do list of mine!

The Snow Belt

As I traveled from SB back to my Chicagoland last weekend, I pondered a few things. Namely, I pondered the sheer unfairness that is Indiana weather. I left SB and over a foot of snow on my front lawn. I traveled through the snow belt, clear skies and snow packed pavement devolving to white-out conditions and slippery roads in the span of one measly mile. All of the sudden, I noted several vehicles off the road and in the ditch. Then the car behind me suddenly disappeared...

…checking my rear view mirror and cutting the cruise control, yep, I could see the back half of his car sticking out of the ditch.

I resumed my 10-and-2 hand positioning and plowed onward. After a half-hour of white-knuckled driving, I approached my exit. As I edged closer, I noticed the sky growing lighter and eventually, the sun peeked out. When I arrived back at my Chicagoland pad, the sun was out, sky was blue, and birds chirping (seriously, I didn’t know any birds were left to chirp so happily). There was barely enough snow to cover the blades of grass sticking up through the frost.

That is, until the next winter storm hits!

New Year's Meme

Because I’m not risking my life on the snow-covered roads, I have the time and energy to reflect on a meme on which I was tagged by one of my blogger friends:

Outside my window … A decidedly non-snowy day. It’s definitely January and freezing cold in Chicago, but it’s not snowing.

I am thinking … that as much as I love the holiday season, I love the “ordinariness” of January, too. After New Year’s, Jack and I always put our noses to the perpetual grind stone and work our butts off from January-May.

I am thankful for … new family memories created and old family relationships strengthened on New Year’s Eve. As foreign as I am to my family, I am now assured that they love me and support me, no matter my future career path. I’m also thankful for the sudden peace that’s overtaken my being and mitigated any fear I have over the future and its utter unpredictability.

I am hoping … that I can stick to my resolutions and stop making excuses, no matter how insignificant they seem (now what are those excuses why I cannot go to the gym? My shoes are in my trunk? That’s not working any longer! Go get ‘em, you weirdo who signed up for a 100 floor stair climbing race in four short weeks!)

On my mind … I read a book about “candor” when I first started my job. One of my mentors suggested the book to me, so I could understand our top execs’ motivation for revealing certain business plans and details. I keep revisiting this idea of candor, wanting to become a candid, uncomplicated, non-pretending, honest person…As often as I can.

Noticing that … a lot of people thrive on drama or somehow relish it. It’s refreshing to find people who also mitigate drama.

A few plans for the week … to jump back into my ‘usual’ routine as all the administrators are back in the office. I have three key meetings with Chicagoan academic centers and I hope they go well. The future of our stroke program depends upon it! I also have a core four-hour Six Sigma meeting that I’m leading, an all-day training course at another Muppet hospital, and I have to get the stroke standing orders passed the internal medicine, Medical Exec, and Pharmacy committees. Good thing I made that resolution to take one relaxing bath a week…although, I may have to SCHEDULE the bath in my blackberry calendar.

From the kitchen … leftover ham and bean soup and then back my stash of Lean Cuisines, faithfully gathering ice in my Chicagoland fridge.

Around the house … Jack and I ‘de-Christmas-ed’ the house on New Year’s Day and took the opportunity to do a thorough dusting and vacuuming. It’s official, we’re now starting to pack up needless clutter and organize the basement, just in case we have to sell in spring.

One of my favorite things …not having to leave my house…staring out the wide windows and watching the fat clusters of snowflakes drift gracefully down. As the sun sets, lighting a fire in the fireplace, sipping a glass of merlot, listening to relaxing jazz, and curling up with a good book (or a good husband). Since I just lambasted lake-effect snow, my second favorite thing is to work really, really hard, push through obstacles galore, then watch the waves roll in from the beach, sipping a margarita, listening to Kenny Chesney, and curling up with a good book (or a good husband)!

Stair Master

I joined a team at St. Fozzie's, to race to the top of the AON Center in downtown, Chicago. It's a charity event to raise money for the Children's Memorial Hospital, called "Step Up for Kids." I've always wanted to do one of these huge stair climb events in a huge high rise, but this one snuck up on me. I need to be in condition to run 1700 stairs on 81 floors. Apparently, the fastest time on record is 9 minutes and the average time for a woman my age is 30 minutes.

81 floors in 30 minutes? Hmmm. I wonder if anyone will be willing to carry me home that day?

It'll be fun, though, and it's a worthy cause. I'll be sending an email out to family and friends, in case you want to sponsor me and my climb. There is a website that you can visit and contribute towards my fundraising goal.

In my usual fashion of attacking a task thoroughly and completely, I visited the gym last night. I ran two miles on the elliptical, then sauntered over to the stairmaster. It's an actual stair climber, where you hike up stairs (opposed to the stairmaster, where you climb stairs that are pedals). I didn't want the stair climber to think I was intimidated. I climbed on and did 60 floors without stopping. I went at a moderate pace. It took me 15 minutes. Based on the law of proportions, I should be able to finish the climb in 20 minutes...but I know that the reality of hiking up dusty, concrete stairs while fighting hoards of other climbers and adjusting to the altitude will be much tougher.

I'm up for the challenge, though. However, I might need to save some of that IcyHot!

Quote Journal: Excuses

"Ninety-nine percent of the failures come from people who have the habit of making excuses."

-George Washington

What a powerful quote for New Years! Stop making excuses and you'll be successful 99% of the time. Those are pretty good odds.

My New Year's resolutions are quite simple this year:

1. Avoid making excuses.
2. To add one evening bubble bath during the week for the sheer purpose of facilitating relaxation.
3. To grocery shop once a week so I at least have milk in the house.
4. To Just keep swimming.

Blessings on your New Year!