Week 3 of my wife and my Screen-Free Sabbath. Feels pretty good. After the first week it feels like a relief. I’m reading more books – paper and not Kindle. Turned off my e-mail and social media notifications. They were all still there at sundown Saturday. No emergencies. Sitting still more often – some alone, some with my wife. Got my recumbent trike out, tuned up and rode it. Had to buy some paper Sudoku books. It affects my week as well. I’m looking at the phone less often, meditating more. Still using the iPhone for texts and phone calls-have only received a few. Using it when playing my sax: playing my recorded rehearsals, metronome, etc. Sitting on the bus or subway more often looking at people and not the screen. Noticing the blue sky and spring colors. My grandson freaked out: Will I have to do it too? All week? OMG. He’s relieved that it’s just Grandma and Opa and not him, unless he’s at our flat sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. I’ve spoken to several parents who have 5-7p screen-free every day, others do a 24-hour period as we do.
Shopping for a new neurologist I had three screening questions:
- What’s your response time to emails?
- Do you use OpenNotes?
- How would you work with my acupuncturist?
The first doc said, ‘I don’t use email, we don’t have a portal. What are OpenNotes? What do you mean you’re shopping for a neurologist? You either want me or you’re wasting my time.’
The second doc said, ‘If you email me, my nurse practitioner or I will get back to you within two business days. If you need us sooner, call my office.
Of course, we have OpenNotes. If I get something wrong, let me know. I know a lot about drugs and therapeutics and how they affect groups of people. But, I don’t know anything about you. My job is to learn more about you, and we’ll test different drugs and therapeutics and see what works for you. You are an experiment of one.
Oh, you use acupuncture? You’ll have to educate me. I don’t know much about that. I’m interested in anything that helps my patients. Seems like everything works for someone. And by the way, how’d I do? We could have some fun together.’
I love my health team. They help me stay tuned up with my chronic challenges and they get me through unexpected crises. Still, I see them way too often. 3-5 times a month and I’ve never been an inpatient. Professional contact is a drop in the pond of my health. The rest of the time (also known as my life) I set and track goals and habit changes. I have questions about my plans and treatments. I deal with changes in my life that affect my ability to do the work of habit change. I network and I research. I worry and I celebrate. I have tools to help me that are largely disconnected from my health team. I track steps with my iPhone, my diet with MyFitnessPal, the support communities of MyTreatment and PatientsLikeMe. I can communicate with some professionals via portals and can receive one way data via OpenNotes, also with some professionals. Read More
The New York Times Magazine has an article this week about flexibility at work. Since I am a person with a chronic illness and disability and have been a boss to many teams, it seems like a no brainer to support flexibility at work. In fact, life requires flexibility at work. If you give care to yourself or anyone of any age you need flexibility at work. This can range from a haircut to periodic hospital admissions. I used to think that there couldn’t be flexibility if you worked on a shift, say in an ICU, when your absence would make it short-staffed and less safe. But then my teams realized that if we expected to need flexibility then we could design the work and schedules to accommodate the unexpected. Rather, the need for flexibility became the expected. In my first management job as a manager of an ICU I noticed that nurses didn’t stop for lunch, let alone take breaks or go to the bathroom. Crazy. We can design this work so we can take breaks!! This morphed into no one needs to be on call all the time and then, sure, you can go to your daughter’s recital. We can figure this out. I found that when flexibility was expected and given, people stepped up to allow it to happen for each other. No work was planned that required just one person, we always built-in redundancy and clear written descriptions so someone else could step in at a moment’s notice. Certainly, hiring the right people is critical. Flexibility doesn’t work if you don’t trust that everyone gives their all. Do you avoid hiring people with disabilities, chronic conditions, or full of life because you’re worried about getting the job done? I hope not.
Wearing my many hats: e-patient, caregiver, nurse, informaticist, and leader, I am blessed with mostly positive experiences on my health journey. At worst, my experiences are seriously annoying. This week, attending a benefit for MITSS (Medically Induced Trauma Support Services), I’m reminded that not everyone is so lucky. As I scan the industry several problems with the experience of the people at the center of care (patients, caregivers, clinicians, direct care and support staff) jump out: Read More
Habits are the ingredients of health. My chiropractor tells me that my exercise habits should be sustainable. I need to keep them up no matter my life pace. Now I alternate days of 45 minutes of balance and core strengthening exercises with 60 minutes of recumbent bike riding. I could do that when working full-time and when not. Smiling and greeting you at a threshold is a habit. A habit for my mental health and yours. My newest habit is to stop putting food in my mouth every day at 7:08p. Why 7:08? No reason. This blog is a habit: one idea germ a week, 20-60 minutes of writing every Sunday for 3 years. Helps me keep my disorganized mind in order.
Nothing so needs reforming as other people’s habits ~ Mark Twain.
Limits. Spending time this weekend with friends of 30-40-50 years – lots of young kids my grandsons’ ages in the mix. Watching the constant shifting dance of setting limits, testing limits. Children cutting their teeth on their parents and grandparents. Also observing us 60 something oldsters bumping up against our physical capabilities – joint disease, surgery, acute and chronic illness. How long can we keep up the pace we’re accustomed to, how long do we want to? How do we maintain or extend our capabilities? I watch my 87-year-old mother, in pretty good health, slowly winding down, withdrawing from some social and physical activities. Limits – acculturation, recalibration, will. Limits impact community engagement, social connectedness – Physical access, relationships, conduct, opportunity. We respond so differently to limits – tantrums, frustration, anxiety, negotiation, determination, resignation, relief. A magic lever of best health: our response to limits.
I just want to focus on the basics!