In the world of health care, as in most enterprises where we must interact with one another for mutual benefit, we need words to describe one another. And the words we have for us people who use/need/want health care frankly don’t cut the mustard.
We need a new one.
The French gave us tasty food, the Statue of Liberty, and the wonderful phrase, “le mot juste.” Translated literally, it means “the exact …
To designer and architect Michael Graves, paralyzed from a rare virus and in a wheelchair since 2003, the ultimate indignity came one day while he was a patient in a top-ranked hospital: “I was in a Hoyer Lift.” (a body sling mounted to a metal structure, used to help lift and move a patient). “The nurse was moving me from the bed …
Hospital transport arrives to take my daughter just after 9am. We’d been told her ultrasound and x-ray were scheduled for 10am, an hour away. Jess and I exchange a look. She’s just about to take another swig of the laxative drink she’s been drinking since 8:30.
“I’ll go with you,” I say.
“We’ll make sure there’s a bathroom nearby.”
Strike one for the Golden Cocoon.
We get to the ultrasound department, and are left …
Don’t get me wrong, it’s huge to see patient safety evolving to be a front-burner issue. After beating the drum for years, the National Patient Safety Foundation and other groups are seeing progress, with meaningful use, electronic health records, pay for performance, and the patient-centered medical home.
Medicare innovation grants and the Partnership for Patients are chipping away at medical harm and 30 day readmissions. Empowered patients are test-driving their choices …
My phone rang a few weeks ago, the morning of January 26th. It was my brother saying “Mom has cancer in her spine. I’m bringing her to the hospital this afternoon. They’re operating Monday.”
I threw my stuff in my suitcase, jumped in the car and drove back home from the conference that moments before had seemed so important.
But before I left, I spoke at length with the orthopedist who’d delivered …
“I died last week, just a month after I said goodbye to you all from this very desk. I had a long and happy life – well, as happy as a cranky old guy could ever be. 92. Not bad. And gotta say, seeing my Margie, and Walter, and all my old friends again is great.
But then I read what killed me: ‘serious complications following minor surgery.’
Now what the heck …
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