My wife and I built a house together – the whole house, everything except drilling the well. While building, living and improving it over 5-6 years, we had a running argument about paneling. She hated it and I loved it. It took us several years to figure out that she hated 4×8 sheets of paneling and I loved real wood paneling. Turns out that we agreed. We had different images associated with paneling. Communication is a bitch in the best of circumstances.
No wonder that a person’s health team struggles to communicate at transitions (between team members, when adding a new team member, between people, offices, and settings) – it’s a perfect tower of Babel. In its simplest form communication is who, what and how. Who needs to communicate? What do they need to communicate? How will they communicate?
Let’s focus on the what. What are the goals of the person on the health journey? Who’s going to do stuff to get there? When? How will these goals and activities be tracked and shared across time and settings? Continue reading
I’m thankful for my superpower that I shared with my mother, Ruth, and son, Mike – accepting what is.
I’m thankful that I was born a white straight male to a closeted gay dad, Ruben, and a Holocaust survivor, Ruth – I appreciate that I have first world problems and learned from them that I must act to better the world.
I’m thankful that my best friend is my life partner and care partner – I strive to be equal to her love.
I’m thankful for my extended family, characters all.
I’m thankful for a 40+ year career as a nurse – privileged to serving during people’s most vulnerable moments.
I’m thankful that I was invited to join my grandmother, mother, and son during their end-of-life journeys.
I’m thankful that my grown sons love the strong women they married, revel in fatherhood, and contribute to community well-being – they keep me honest.
I’m thankful for my grandsons – OMG, what can I say?! Continue reading
When diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, I did little research. Here I was, a card carrying member of the research industrial complex heavily involved with the Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Institute (PCORI). I just couldn’t bring myself to Google MS. I relied on my wife to do the research and inform me. I told my neurologist I wanted to get worse as slowly as possible and didn’t want to take anything that messed with my pathological optimism. Then I relied on him to make medical decisions for me. No clinical decision aids. Simultaneously, friends sent me books and links about diet, lifestyle, over-the-counter supplements to help me with my MS. Thanks, I guess. Not that receptive. Without looking up one study, I tried non-medical professionals – massage, chiropractic, and acupuncture. These I still use almost a decade later. I brought whatever I heard about or tried to my neurologist, and we discussed it. He told me that he knew about drugs and medical therapeutics, but that everything worked for someone. Some things he knew about and some he didn’t. He liked hearing what worked for me. He told me what he had heard from other patients.
When my mom was diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer, she relied on me to do the research. Well, really, she asked me questions, so I had to do the research. In fact, she didn’t make any decisions based on the evidence I uncovered. “I’ve had a good life. No surgery, no chemo, no radiation. I want to stay home.” Continue reading
I spoke with a friend this week who felt like a stranger in a strange land. She’s recently moved to a community with almost no experience with Muslims, people from West Africa, or with those with chronic pain from a genetic disease. Every encounter presents challenges drawing on her charisma, empathy, dignity and ability to adapt and educate – sometimes during the crisis of severe pain. During my friend’s medical encounters she does not face a health literacy dilemma. She is usually more expert about her culture and her health challenges than the medical professionals she meets. She faces a life literacy dilemma. In my life as a patient and career as a clinician, I face an infinite variety of people, cultures, and situations different from my own or my comfort. I am often at a loss at how to engage this range of clinicians (as a patient) and people (as a clinician). How can we proactively prepare for so much unknown and unfamiliar? Continue reading
I’m scared but not shocked. The level of disappointment so many people feel about their lives profoundly saddens me. I should have more. I would have more if it weren’t for others – all sorts of others. Feelings of injustice can power so much. I don’t pretend to understand all the righteousness, anger, and meanness that erupt when disappointment builds. But it feels as familiar as the human condition throughout the planet and over the ages. It’s like earthquakes from fracking. I’m thankful that my mother, a Holocaust survivor, is no longer alive. She would be apoplectic and inconsolable. What’s going to happen now? How should I act? As when grieving, I will mindfully minimize controllable stress – exercise, rest, listen to and play more music, spend more time with friends and family. I will continue to give thanks for all I have in my first world life. I will continue to pursue my passion for maximizing the experience of people at the center of care. I pray for the physical and spiritual strength to speak up, stand up, and act when the moments seems right. I’ll need strength to take the high road in this low road time. More than anything I’ll pray for unexpected open hearts. The community needs it. Our grandchildren need it. The unborn need it. Onward.
OMG, where’s my wife? I need to be rescued. I can’t do this. I can’t be here. My pounding heart, my rapid, shallow breathing. I can’t be here. Where’s my Ativan?! Have I gotten bad news, a diagnosis, felt a lump? Am I bleeding? Have I fallen? Am I a stranger in the strange land of the medical industrial complex?
No, I’m on a Blues Cruise. I want to play the blues with other amateurs. They are the amateurs that are not headliners. They have blues bands of their own and play regular gigs wherever they live. I am an old, baby amateur. I’m the only horn player at this session. I don’t know the tunes. I don’t know what key they’re playing in. I am SO way over my head. It could just as well be a gaggle of 8-year old’s trading Pokémon cards. Continue reading
I’m on vacation this week. A Blues Cruise. Heard two bands with bari saxes already – Los Lobos and Selwin Birchwood. Today, I’ll try to join the Pro-Amateur JAM.
So just a quick post:
Last week I was invited to the @MITRE Corporation by @HarrySleeper and met teams working on:
- Standard Health Record, an open source single health record, if it happens to the person, it’s in the SHR. Secure, informed-consent access to our health data across multiple platforms with advanced security and privacy protocols. Accessibility for us and authorized family , care partners, and healthcare providers to our health-record 24/7, anywhere in the world. Empower people with an enduring voice by allowing us to add, verify, and easily share our data with trusted third parties
- Intervention Engine, assigns risk rating and prioritizes patients for clinician team members in clinics and offices to huddle and review patient status and proposed interventions
- SyntheticMass, a test database of Massachusetts residents health records simulate population health. Expecting to have all 7 million loaded in 2021
- Bonnie, a tool for pretesting clinical quality measures
- Social Determinants of Health, a great graphic for a holistic picture of health
Thanks to @JuhanSonin for the intro. Amazing work going on. Need to spread the word. Till next week.
I’m committed to and invested in evidence-based health and wellness. I get my flu shots, exercise every day, and take my cholesterol meds. I check out studies so I’m informed when I make decisions with my neurologist. I am committed to patient-centered research. This week I was intrigued by a conversation in Washington @PCORI (Patient Center Outcomes Research Institute) about the challenge of following up with people using medications in off-label ways (no formal evidence, many experiments of one). The thing about evidence is how does evidence happen when there is patient and/or clinician creativity? People try something, it helps. They share on @PatientsLikeMe,@mypatientsMatch or social media. Someone else tries it. It helps some and not others. How does that experience turn into evidence? A challenge is that such data is either not collected or so spread out that it can’t become evidence. Plus, it’s tough to collect data about how stuff works. How can studies be done about people after they feel better? Continue reading
10p New Year’s night 2002: Mike called me. I’m numb on my right side. My heart screamed. My boy had a stage 4 melanoma removed from his neck a year ago followed by lymph node removal and a course of Interferon. Go to the Emergency Department. The next day a metastasized brain tumor the size of a grape was removed. Soon he had a lung tumor the size of an orange removed. He called them Terrence (the brain tumor) and Caesar (the lung tumor). Once sufficiently recovered from the surgeries, he began treatment at the cancer center close to his college home. A team of me, my wife and the parents of his girlfriend (who lived near their college home) alternated accompanying Mike on his visits to the cancer center. Mike never felt that he had the information he needed. They wouldn’t talk prognosis: Am I going to die? They didn’t explain uncertainty: What does 5% chance of anything mean? I’m 26! They seemed to speak to us more than him. After a particularly frustrating session with the oncologist, I asked him if I could arranged a consultation in the cancer center near us. He agreed. I did. What a difference. Mike immediately bonded with the radiation oncologist. Let me speak with Mike alone. After an hour, Mike came out. I’m probably going to die, but there’s stuff we can try. Oh well, I wasn’t born with a tattoo on my ass telling me how long I had to live. He died November 18th, 2002. Continue reading
Three weeks ago I wrote about navigating our experiment of one. This navigation is health planning over a lifetime. Health Planning over a Lifetime includes having destinations or goals and deciding what needs to happen to get there. Who’s going to do what, by when? How will we recognize when we’ve arrived. It helps to anticipate risks and barriers (those unexpected forks in the road), and have a plan to prevent or manage those unexpected forks. We’ll want to track and share progress. We need a table to sit down and process what we’ve learned, so we can change course when necessary. The health and wellness industry hasn’t provided us with the setting, the skills, or the technology for this vital health planning over lifetimes. It’s nowhere. Continue reading