My journal–April 19, 2017

I wandered the halls today. Purposeful rounding was my aim. I planned on using an appreciative journey with well-crafted questions for our glorious team members. No doubt each one would take a moment with me out of courtesy or perhaps some mild fear of the fictional negative consequences of declining my invitation to speak. In any case, i exited the elevator and paused. Took a deep breath before the ingress to the unit desk. I looked ahead. There was noise. The sound of beeps and carts and doors opening and closing and voices around the corner. Other than the Medical Unit Secretary, I didn’t see a soul at the bunker we call the unit desk.

Our nurses and nursing assistants were moving up and down the hall. They moved like deer. One moment gliding gracefully and then another suddenly darting around a cart into a room or around a colleague coming from the opposite direction as if playing a game of Chicken.

I made no stops to talk or inquire. I just sashayed down the hall. From one end to the other. There were plenty of pleasant acknowledgements of my presence, but each was accompanied by a noticeable look of “Please don’t be offended if I don’t stop and talk…I’m really busy.” I respectfully and thankfully acknowledged with a look of, “Please excuse me for invading with all of my administrative garb and even giving you the impression that I need you to stop what you are doing.”

An unspoken accord.

I noticed the charting. There was the opening of bags and meds pulled from the Pyxis machine. Charting again. Heads bobbing between the screens and texts on Voalte phones. The exchanges with the MUR resembling that of a server to a Waffle House cook (and I mean that in the MOST complimentary way…it’s an art). More charting. There was the ritual exchange of tubing and linen, medication administration, therapies, and inquiry with patients.

The amateur anthropologist in me noticed, not for the first time, the conspicuous absence of uninterrupted and connected time with patients. This isn’t out of a lack of interest or commitment to the sacred relationship with their patient. Not their “consumer” or their “customer”; not their diagnosis or room number; not their “admission” or their “discharge.” No, there was a void of time in connection with their patient. The one who arrived and entrusted them, and us, with their life for these moments or days or weeks.

I recalled a speech offered not long ago at Queens College by Dr. Sanjay Gupta. I was in line at the end of the forum to ask a question of the learned and traveled Dr. Gupta. The question time ended before I made it to the mic, but the last question may have just as well served
as a proxy for mine:

“Doctor Gupta, what are your thoughts on the role of compassion in healthcare today.” He didn’t blink or pause.

“I have traveled all over the world and have seen care from every point of view. Compassion is the default of caregivers. It is in them. YOUR job as leaders is to REMOVE the barriers that prevent that compassion from finding its way into every interaction.”

I couldn’t help but look around and wonder, “What am i doing to make the world of these people better? What am I doing to to enable them to fully explore the empathy and compassion that is brimming in them? What am I doing to offer them the same compassion they desire to offer their patients?”

My conclusion: Not enough!

Each of these precious and committed and fully competent people are looking for a clear signal through the noise. Like a dial on AM radio, we as leaders must offer a clear channel through the noise where they can connect. Asking for empathy, compassion, connections, relationships, and 9’s and 10’s on a survey just isn’t fair unless we create a path for compassionate interactions.

This, now, is
my purpose. Period.

Sean