by Nick Jacobs

Tony asked me what I would miss as a hospital CEO? Let me begin by saying that I left teaching at age 31, and thirty years later I still very much miss the interaction with the students. Just yesterday, I received another E-mail from a 50ish year old IT executive telling me that my teaching had been one of the greatest influences on his life. That was the third similar E-mail that I had received in the last five months from that work of 30 years ago.

From teaching I miss helping the students find themselves, teaching them to fly, and saving those borderline kids who were hanging by a thread. My life as a teacher was completely built around being a care-giver and a mentor.

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by Nick Jacobs

Penn and Teller, magician-comedians, have a cable TV show that basically explores all aspects of life in America with the intention of exposing those areas that are not valid. I'm not sure why the noble bull has suffered this indignity of their show's title, but, when it comes to making fun of the nontraditional, these magic men hold nothing back. They look at topics like integrative medicine, snake charming, and sensitivity training through their sarcastic, unprofessionally trained eyes and do all that they can to rebuke the topics being explored.

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by Nick Jacobs

After 20 years as a non medical observer in a health care setting, some of my greatest observations regarding personal change have come through my own interpretation of the results of brushes with mortality. It’s interesting how the human mind works, the depth of denial that we persuade ourselves to embrace and the creation of sometimes self-created turmoil that helps us avoid the daily realities that are occasionally too emotionally unforgiving to acknowledge.

Typically, we go on until we hit the well-known, proverbial brick wall that causes us to stop, rethink our future and make decisions as to how we should attempt to proceed.

The most extreme outcome resulting from these near death, life threatening and often life changing experiences, has been my observation as a lay medical person of primal change. So many times people have entered my life with a terminal or near terminal diagnosis, survived that illness and come back to a life that even they had never imagined. This brush with death made them realize that they were either lucky or, in fact, selected to stay a while longer and potentially make a difference. This is what I refer to as the sickness epiphany.

Don’t get me wrong. There are still plenty of us who hit the wall and happily return to the life that brought us to that event. What is that quote that is attributed to Benjamin Franklin? You know, the one that I used to think of when I practiced my trumpet for four hours a day, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."

On the other hand, we have all seen the heart attack victim who, after smoking heavily for 45 years, stops cold turkey without hesitation and then tells every smoker he knows how awful the habit is for them. It is has also not been uncommon to begin a discussion with someone who had a physical scare, and then decided to quit their job or change their marital status. Finally, we have met those individuals who were barely hanging on to a spiritual thread when they faced death and found their faith. It’s the epiphany. "It came to him in an epiphany what his life's work was to be!"

Some people decide that their new found life should be spent more at home, in church or at play. We have all heard the well worn expression, “No one on their deathbed ever says I wish I had worked longer hours.” On the other hand some survivors become passionate toward causes, i.e., helping similar patients face the same situation that they survived. Still others have decided that they will take the time they have left and work to literally change the world.

It is this type of purpose driven existence that can have a phenomenal impact on all of us.

A little over three years ago, I faced death. When I realized what many people have embraced for decades, that each day was truly a gift, my initial response was, “Why me? Why was I saved?” As I searched for that why, it came to me that at least one purpose for still being here was to change the way health care is being delivered.

Co-incidentally or maybe serendipitously, another individual from a completely different background met with me today to discuss the fact that his life had taken a similar health twist. His passion, as described by him, was literally to change the way that health care is delivered.

We only have about 4500 more hospital to change in order to make this transition.

by Christopher Cornue

As many of our readers know, I’m usually not short on words, but this posting is very direct and few words are needed. We spend a great deal of time discussing ways to make our healthcare system better in the States and this is an absolutely essential discussion that needs to occur, and it will continue. However, I do want to take a step back, prompted (I’m sure) by a recent hospital stay in November and other recent activities. Medicine is so amazing and our society is able to do so much to improve the health of individuals. The progress made over the past few decades (and centuries, for that matter) is remarkable and our possibilities to improve are endless. The ability to affect the lives of individuals, whether you are a front-line caregiver, physician, administrator, office worker, etc. is a rewarding and awesome responsibility. I’m so proud to be a part of this industry and to be an active contributor to these efforts.

So, with that brief pause and reflection on our industry, I look forward to our future discussions, collaboration and solutions to, as Tony puts it, make “our hospitals the best run organizations on the face of the planet” and improve the delivery of healthcare!

by Nick Jacobs

Denise Grady wrote a great Op Ed for the New York Times today about her sister's fight with cancer. In this opinion column she discusses empathy toward vulnerability. Interestingly, she quotes Dr. James A. Tulsky, director of the Center for Palliative Care at Duke University Medical Center whose study published in the Journal of Clinical Oncology found that doctors and patients weren't communicating all that well about emotions. She quoted the study as having revealed that male doctors were less than 50% as empathetic as female doctors in their responses to patients.

Ms. Grady made a point of indicating that it was not necessarily critical for the physicians to engage in long dialogue with the patients where they became psychological counselors. In fact, according to Tulsky, "Brief, empathetic responses will suffice."

A few days ago, I ended a post by quoting Maya Angelou who said, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."

So much of our life is spent looking for emotional support in some way, shape or form. The management schools teach us that "It's not all about the money." The attorneys tell us that "If we are kind and explain ourselves to the patients, our chances of being sued drop exponentially."

This morning we dealt with an employee complaint. It wasn't about time, money, or benefits. The complaint was that the employee was not treated with compassion, respect or dignity. It was about how one of her peers made her feel.

There are very difficult emotional challenges that come with being a chemotherapy or, for that matter, any type of cancer patient. After all, this disease can very clearly make us deal with our own mortality in a very direct, uncaring, matter of fact way. It is or it isn't. We are or we aren't; and one of the examples that we use is that "It may be your 543 rd Leukemia or melanoma or lymphoma, but it is the patient's first."

We are not indicating that our world must be one of mamby pamby, warm fuzzies that never deal with the truth. We are indicating that the people with whom we deal are human beings. I heard a comedian say last night that he had just gone through a tough divorce and lost weight. He then said, "I think I lost about 30 pounds. That's how much a soul weighs, right?"

So, as we move about in our world every day, remember Denise Grady, remember her sister, and remember that warmth, concern, compassion, and empathy are NOT bad things. The day that we found out that my father's cancer had metastasized, the doc told him not to worry. He told him that everything was okay. Then he turned to my mother and winked. That day will forever be burned in my memory. His was the wink of death.

Just remember that, "Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness."