Short Circuit

I know things are getting dire when I no longer consider Starbucks coffee to be strong enough. I have to brew my own coffee now...only I would appreciate a full half cup of designer ground beans for my two-cup coffee brewer. That's the realization I had this morning as I lingered over my morning coffee.

[sound of record being scratched by a needle!]

What? I lingered over my coffee? YEP. For a whole 10 minutes. It was only because I had to represent St. Fozzie's at the Muppet corporate Quality meeting today. I was stuck at the hospital last night until almost 8pm CST and drove back to SB with my eyelids propped open with toothpicks.

The Quality meeting was so neat; the system is entertaining the idea of implementing telerobotics in the hospital setting. St. Gonzo's is our system's "hub" hospital for the stroke network we're trying to get off the ground. St. Kermit's and St. Rowlf's both have bids in for the telerobotics program to become "spokes" in the stroke network. St. Fozzie's is also going to apply for stroke designation and may join the system's stroke network. We're just not sure if we want to credential all the necessary physicians at all the Indiana and Illinois hospitals.

The robot reminded of Johnny 5 in the cheesy 80's flick Short Circuit. It was about the height of a human, had a blue base and a flat screen television where the head should be. A programmer from California "beamed in" and assumed the robotic identity. His head filled the screen and the robot made us feel connected to the programmer...because he could reach out its arm, take someone's pulse with the attached stethoscope, look down (the screen pivoted), and even plug it back into the wall by himself. It was eerie, just how human that robot appeared.

The point behind the telerobotics is to allow one super-specialist to reside in Nassau, Bahamas, for instance. We can actually build programs around these super-specialists, even if they are not on site. The telerobotics utilize high-capacity wireless bandwith and despite the geographical distance, there is very little latency. Specialists can easily interact with patients and their families and get this...they can even access the patients' electronic medical records from afar and toggle between the patient encounter and his/her health record. It's amazing and this technology may bridge that gap created by a lack of specialists in every field.

The only weird thing is that CMS (Center for Medicare/Medicaid Services) considers this a 'face to face' encounter and allows the hospital to bill for a full patient encounter. Isn't that bizarre? What's next, drive-through dentistry?

Feels Like Finals' Week

Have I told you the story about my junior year of undergrad, when I actually built a pyramid out of Diet Mountain Dew cans? I'm not even kidding. It became a piece of art, a conversation piece, a shrine to my perennial stress-filled, sleepless nights.

I'm tempted to resume this practice. Sister Lourdes and I both have a fond affinity for Diet Mountain Dew (DMD). Every time our meeting stretch past the 10-hour mark, one of us always supplies the other with our preferred fuel source.

Something about these last couple weeks makes me feel like I'm in the throes of finals' week. It's crunch time, the meetings are double and triple-booked, and I've had homework lately (stuff I have to read at home before the meetings). Monday was filled with ER meetings, as we met with docs, nursing staff, and other support staff to expound upon our patient throughput issues. Then I led a stroke designation planning meeting and went straight into a four-hour stressfest better known as Budget. Since Muppet Corporate gave us a week extension on our initial deadline, we've had a few additional nights to chew over the budget. The shortfall is decreasing, but it's unfortunately at the expense of departments, seminars, staffing, and even a couple educational programs. Some folks don't understand the gravity involved in some of the administrative decisions. How do you weigh the various programs and hospital factors and make those tough decisions about who or what should be cut?

With lots of discussion. And lots of trail mix and DMD!

I left late on Monday night and walked out of the hospital to a distinctly autumn night, complete with a windy chill whipping leaves around me. Have I been working so hard that I missed the seasons changing? Or did fall come in with that one storm the other night?!

Tuesday was another nutty one as I had my first true marathon. I had 11 straight hours of meetings with no breaks. I had to step out of meetings in order to raid Vendo Land and hit the john. That's just sad. The meetings ranged from Town Hall meetings (where Senior Leadership presents a "state of the hospital" sort of thing to staff...on all three shifts!) to physician recruitment to marketing to revenue cycle to budget. At the end of the day, I excused myself to rip the contact lenses from my poor, red eyes.

A couple of really good things happened, though. First, my secretary popped her head into my office (usually a sign that she needs clarification on something) and presented me with a small flower...because she thinks I'm blossoming in my role and I "get it." I was taken aback, but really appreciated the gesture. I'm living in a land of no feedback, so her feedback felt great.

Then Sister Lourdes bounced into my office, M&M's rattling in the pocket of her habit, singing the praises of the latest storyboard. I mentioned that I wrote it up in an abstract for that nationwide Quality conference next May. Her eyes lit up in such a way it was if I told her Heaven was made of M&M's. I sent if off to her and she immediately contacted people at Corporate, asking permission to submit on behalf of the system. After suggesting a few minuscule changes, Corporate approved it. So I sent it off to the conference. If, for some reason, the conference accepts our submission, Sister and I will be presenting and facilitating a break-out session. Trying not to get my hopes up but that would be so cool. I'll keep you posted!

Maybe that's why I feel the crunch; all these deadlines are looming over me. I just hope I get to sleep when it's over.

Stop and Smell the Astigmatism

Since Da Boyz, meaning all of the males in my family from age 17 to 61, went to the ND v. Purdue game yesterday, I found myself with a bit of free time. I use the term "free" loosely, as I had 29 errands to run. However, as things slowed down in the evening, I propped my feet up at my mom's house, alternating between cuddling with the dog and screaming at Jimmy Clausen to please throw another touch down pass.

At half-time, my chit-chat with Mom became serious. She let me know how worried she is about me, that I'm not sleeping or eating well (you know how mom's are; they want to make sure you're nourished). She always expresses this consternation at my exhaustion...it's in her job description as "Mom." Almost every day, she'll either voicemail, text, or email me, telling me to "Stop and smell the roses." At first, I kept telling her I didn't have access to roses. Then she bought me a stunningly beautiful tropical plant for a housewarming gift. When I confessed that I totally killed the gorgeous plant, she feigned hurt when I had "committed herbicide." Most recently, she bought me a silk plant and included one of those little stakes that tells you how to care for the plant. On the stake, she had written "Dust quarterly."

Hopefully, I won't kill this one!

So to put Mom at ease and to reassure her that I'm in good hands, I told her about how my friend, Therese, borrowed me a statue of Padre Pio. Padre Pio is supposedly the patron saint of stress relief. My mom, trying to recall the legacy and sainthood story of Padre Pio, looked questioningly over at me and said, "He was the one with astigmatism, right?"

No, momma, he had the stigmata. But he might have required corrective optical action, too!

11 Years

It's been 11 years since my life changed. Well, that might be a wee bit o'dramatic, but I do commemorate this anniversary every year.

On September 25, 1998, I boarded a plane for Ireland. Actually, that was the first plane I ever boarded in my life (and it was a puddle-jumped with propellers from SB to Cleveland). As I sat in that seat and pondered the roaring whirl of the propellers, I wondered how people could possibly stand to travel that way often. It distracted me from, y'know, leaving my family, friends, and home for the first time. Then on the second flight, from Cleveland to Newark, I had my first jet plane ride. That was better. Until my sinuses threatened to explode from the cold remnants I took with me on the journey.

By the time our "real" flight left Newark for Dublin, I was an experienced jet-setter....I now knew that most planes don't use propellers, always travel with decongestant if you have any inkling of sinus problems, and that the little packs of peanuts they give you really don't count as a meal. I remember being so proud of myself when I remembered a change of clothes in my carry-on luggage. Since you're officially changing days, most folks traveling abroad change clothes. It's weird, but in addition to helping you feel cleaner, you get into the mindset that it's another day. After having changed my t-shirt, I glanced in the mirror at my minimal make-up, red eyes, and tousled hair and thought I traveled pretty darn well. Take that, Julia Roberts!

[I saw pictures from that trip and burned them all. In a big fire. Vanity rules!]

Once we landed in Dublin, the extreme exhaustion of psychological removal from our families, the emotional stress of beginning in a foreign land, and physical stress of spending 7 hours in coach, hit us all. Our program director took us on a tour of Dublin on the way out to the west suburbs (where we lived) and I remember nothing from the trip. I do remember the realization that this was it, I was on my own, and it was up to me to succeed as a student and have a good time in the process. In short, I put myself out there, internationally.

So that's why I still remember my September 25th anniversary. I really did change my life that day in deciding to board that first prop plane and head for the Emerald Isle. The year I spent in Ireland began with homesickness, then it stretched me as I made new friends from many countries and conquered new academic pursuits. Eventually, I began to accept the experience and Irish nuances. Each time I try something new or uproot my life and move to a new city for a job (ahem!), I'm reminded of my tremendous experience in Ireland.

Yet Another Heckofacrazyweek

So I just came home from the gym, where I took a very intense Spinning class. At one point, I felt hypnotized by the thumping bass and seeing myself in the mirror, I couldn't believe those were my legs pumping up and down, up and down, up and...where am I? I'm so tired from working almost non-stop this week, that I'm about to hallucinate, too. Hey, can you please move that bunny that's sitting in the corner of the living room?

I'll try and do a quick recap. On Tuesday, I sat in on four interviews for the position of Medical Director of the Cardiovascular Service line. I even got to ask a couple questions. It was interesting to see how even regionally-known cardiologists squirm during interviews. Then I worked on the posters some more, attended a three-hour budget meeting, and went downtown in the evening for a Women's Health Executive Network dinner and lecture. My eyes were involuntarily crossing by the time I got home, as the budget stuff is really the intense part. It's kind of like a session of Congress, where Administration cannot take a recess until the hospital budget is balanced. In previous weeks, we've interviewed each director and manager, picking through individual budgets with fine-tooth combs. Since we still have a multi-million dollar budget shortfall, it's crunch time.

The budget meetings are actually a great experience. They meet from 4-7pm (when everyone's brains are NICE and fresh), for about 2 weeks, and anything goes. It's an "out of the box" atmosphere and the administrators take turns bringing candy, trail mix (hurray!), and even pastry items. Some genius put me in charge of the budget workbooks and I've been chewing away on numbers until the wee hours. Good thing I have a comfy couch and blankie at home.

Between meetings on Wednesday, I spent my time slaving away on those two storyboards for the conferences' submission deadlines that are quickly approaching. I've found at St. Fozzie's, that projects get started. But once they hit 60-70%, people are dropping the ball. So I'm stepping in and have already been able to see a few things to completion. These storyboards are an example. At one point, I called up to one of the nursing units and asked if we could take pictures for one storyboard, of nurses scanning meds, of high-alert co-signing, etc. EVERY nurse in the unit participated and I was able to capture those nurses' faces in the pictures. When this goes out nationally, I hope those nurses feel proud of themselves because they are awesome!

The meetings on Wednesday mostly revolved around physician and resident recruitment. The opportunities are endless and St. Fozzie's hasn't really owned the educational piece of the medical residency program. I argue that any good resident should be groomed in the pipeline and then we should get to keep them when they graduate! The weird part about Wednesday was that I was often double and triple-booked. I actually had to delegate my calendar management to my secretary. I've always done my own calendar, but it's just getting too hard to coordinate everything. If you have docs attending your meetings, you have to call them the morning of, and remind them of their RSVP. So now that my secretary is taking care of this, well, I'm not as forgetful. :)

Today was one of my best days yet at St. Fozzie's. I went in early (duh) and finished one of the storyboard. I emailed it to Sister Lourdes for the final approval. I made good progress on the other storyboard. Then, because I'm considered hospital leadership (scary, I know), I have to take disaster planning classes online through FEMA. So that was this morning, too. Right after the class concluded and 20 minutes before our huge governing Board meeting, Sister runs into my office, tells me the poster went to the publisher (yay!), and asked me if I would present the storyboard to the Board members. Seriously!? 20 minutes to prepare a presentation for the Board? Being the masochist that I am, I agreed. I actually did it, without practicing, without an outline, and it came off coherently. Then, she put me on the spot again and asked me to explain the Illinois Dept of Public Health stroke designation to the Board! If anything, I learned that I can talk to the Board without swallowing my tongue or verbally tripping over mental lint.

I guess the best part of this week is that I'm really starting to feel a part of St. Fozzie's. I'm becoming invested; I'm giving my heart and soul (and probably my sanity) over to the hospital and want to see it succeed. Every time I walk out to the parking garage and glance over my shoulder at the towering red brick building behind me, I feel a swell of pride rising in my chest. I love this place. It's taking YEARS OFF MY LIFESPAN, but I love this place!

Crazy Train

When I walked in the door this morning, there was a "traveling flu clinic" set up in Administration. A nurse was there, vial of flu virus in hand, ready to stick any willing arm that walked by. Being the illnessphobe that I am, I immediately pulled my arm out of my coat and offered it, like a sacrifice to appease the Flu gods. That nurse JABBED me; I felt it go deep into the muscle. Not an hour later, my arm felt like lead and I about went through the roof when I leaned on a door frame to chat with Sister Lourdes.

Not cool. I HATE flu shots. I hate shots in general. Actually, I just hate needles. For some reason, I can watch people getting cut open and hearts being roto-rootered in the Cath Lab, but I cannot stand to have a tiny piece of metal jabbed into my own arm.

After I got my color back into my face, I got ready for my morning o'meetings. My secretary double-booked me, so I ended up teleconferencing into my ER Throughput meeting. We deal with the issues surrounding the Physician First initiative and any other patient throughput issues that arise (like patients having to wait for beds, staffing, etc.). Anyway, I dialed in and was connected to the conference. Since we're a Catholic hospital, it's a hospital policy that all meetings begin with a prayer. During the short prayer, someone's cell phone went off and the ring tone was…Ozzy Osbourne's Crazy Train! So all you heard was, "Allll ABOARDDDDDD!" followed by that trademark guitar intro!

Yeah, that set the mood.

My afternoon was "free" after 3pm, so I worked on my storyboards for the conferences we have approaching. One's for the Physician First initiative and the other is for Patient Safety. Sister Lourdes is passionate about the storyboards, so we spent a couple hours rehashing the grammatical details and graphical representations. Then my CEO boss, Elvis,** walked in and took a red pen to our mock-up! It was good feedback, especially because he largely left my writing alone. Small victories!

Elvis left the office and Sister and I finished our discussion. Then she abruptly turned back to her desk and asked if I wanted to see her boobies. All I could muster was, "Your what?" She turned back around with two tiny sets of hand-knitted baby socks. "Ohhhh, your booties," I said. She replied by knocking back a handful of M&M's. I walked out of there, mentally scratching my head in confusion.

**So yes, my boss will now be referred to as Elvis. This stems from the fact that a few weeks ago, I heard a guitar solo from "Devil in Disguise" issuing forth from his open office door.

Sheeeeeecaaaaago

Jack and I did the Chicago tourist gig this weekend. First stop on Friday night was the White Sox game:It was "Healthcare night" at US Cellular Field and St. Fozzie's received a special shout-out. Some of the commercial breaks featured healthcare-related entertainment. What really shocked us when we arrived was that lots of folks were wearing green....and had green and white Sox hats on. It looked suspiciously Irish and sure enough, it was "Half-way to St. Patty's Day" at the park. The team wore green and white uniforms, an Irish quartet sang the National Anthem (ours, not Ireland's), and the park offered Guinness and green beer on tap. The commercial breaks that didn't feature healthcare stuff featured Irish music and scenes from Braveheart! It was a nice coincidence for me, working in healthcare and being a fan of all things Irish.

On Saturday, we both worked for several hours (work no longer stops on the weekends) and we took the train downtown. I kept having to check my phone for the status of the ND game; when we disembarked the train, ND was up 33 to 30 and we prayed they wouldn't blow it in the final seconds. Anyway, we had reservations at 8pm, so we wandered down Michigan Ave. We wanted to go up to Signature Lounge (96th floor of the Hancock) for sunset, but there was an hour long wait just to get to the elevator. We ducked out of the line and wandered over to Rush Street. They have some great piano bars and we especially liked one called "Jilly's." Dinner at Trader Vic's was out of this world...but we weren't ready to go home yet.

So we walked a couple streets over, back to the Hancock building. Since we had full bellies, we didn't mind the waiting...but the line was much shorter and within 5 minutes, we were on the elevator. The elevator ride was about 30 seconds and I distinctly remember having to swallow five times to clear the pressure from my ears. The view was worth the wait and every pop of my ear drum: Actually, this was the view from the ladies' room (hence the glare). This was the view from our seats, at a little bar along the window:We sat at our little bar seats for about 20 minutes, savoring the view and dreaming. There's supposed to be a two-drink minimum at the Lounge, but they were so busy, no one came to extract the dollars from us. Satisfied with our 20 minutes, we simply took the elevator down and no one was the wiser.

Because Millennium Station is a bit of a walk, we opted to walk back to that vicinity and visit an cute Irish club called Gage. It was much closer to the train depot, so we didn't have to rush. Over a round of ultra-specialized brewski's, we reflected on our night in town and how much fun it was. I'm not apartment-hunting in the city yet, but I feel so grateful to have Chicago in my backyard.

Rules Surgeons Live By

Last Thursday, I rounded in the Surgery department. St. Fozzie's has a couple requirements of the folks in leadership, one of which is that they regularly and consistently "round" on other departments. It gets you out there and allows you a first-hand look at what other departments do on a daily basis. That, and if anyone has issues, they're much more likely to tell YOU than they are their regular management team. It's weird, but it works.

So I rounded in Surgery this week. Because it's sterile, you have to get into scrubs to just walk in the door. My first mistake was that I forgot my sneakers and ended up fitting the sterile booties over my heels. Once I got over that, I was able to meet and touch base with the managers of the holding area, surgery, and post-anesthesia care. In surgery, I hung out in the docs' lounge for a while. That's where you go to get the REAL scoop of what's going on; the docs hang out in there between cases and gossip about anyone and anything. THAT should be the next sitcom on NBC. Just put a teddy cam in that room and hire an SNL writer to transcribe and insert a few slapstick remarks!

Anyway, I chatted up one of my favorite surgeons. He's old and gray and about to retire. But he possesses this amazing fount of wisdom and other surgeons/students revere him as a sage of surgery. He told me that there are three key rules to live by and if anyone adopts these three rules, they will succeed:

1. Be fully prepared.

2. Be on time. Always.

3. Have a personality (or preferably, a sense of humor).

I wonder if the Boy Scouts of America appreciate his take on their central facets! He punctuated this conversation by offering me a piece of pineapple upside-down cake...which was really a gross-looking, squishy orangey-brown, donut-shaped positioning device that they put under peoples' rear ends in surgery!

Arrrrg...Don't Forget!

Today, September 19th, is Talk-Like-A-Pirate-Day today! Don't forget, matey!

Embarrassing Lunch Saga

I won't bore you with my tales from the IDPH Stroke meetings, Patient Safety task forces, and physician recruitment committees in which I sat these past few days.

But I will tell you about my newest embarrassing event!

I went to our western Fozzie campus in the early morning, as there was a physician/executive breakfast I had to attend. We feed the docs neat eats like crepes, french toast, and eggs Benedict and get the 'real scoop' on how things are going for them. It's a good time, as you get to hear the docs talk frankly about their days (like the one cardiologist who lectured us on good nutrition and lifestyle choices and then stuffed his face with bacon). Plus, they serve really good coffee (read: jet fuel), so despite my tiredness at the seemingly never-ending week, I had a good blast of rocket power from the java.

The night before, I ran to the supermarket to get some groceries (angels singing in the background) and actually had food in my house. I took several extra minutes in the morning to make a great lunch for myself. I threw it in my car and hit the highway. Since I was scheduled to be at the breakfast for 2 hours, I took my precious lunch inside and stuck it in the Admin fridge. I left myself a note to not forget my lunch.

The note fell into my purse and I forgot all about it. And my lunch.

Because the breakfast ran late, I booked out of the hospital, sped the 6 miles across town, and bounced out of my car as it rolled to a stop in the other hospital's parking garage. I had to present my budget for Administration to the folks in Finance and to the CEO/COO/CFO! As soon as that presentation was over (it went well and they gave me kudos for knocking us down 10%), my stomach growled with furor and I dreamt of my thick, homemade sandwich sitting in the fridge...across town. Goshdarnitalltofreakingheck!

In the 10 minutes between meetings, I was gabbing to one of the secretaries about my lunch, sitting in the forlorn darkness of the fridge across town. She laughed and picked up the phone. I thought she was attending to business, so I left and went into my meeting.

An hour later, I went back into my office to find a trail of post-it notes leading around my desk and...to my lunch! Someone even laid out a napkin and plastic utensils. I cracked up when the secretary told me the story about how she had the courier grab it and bring it over to the other hospital campus!

Oh, man. Now I owe TWO people lunch, both the secretary and the courier! One of the attorneys just happened to be passing by and commented to me, "You're becoming so high-maintenance!"