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– Bryan Roberts, Venrock on what he looks for in an investment.
With ICD-10 still looming and value-based payments and penalties on the horizon, U.S. hospitals need strategies to tackle the “triple threat” of financial, operational and clinical challenges these transitions present. Summit Health implemented an end-to-end clinical documentation improvement process to address all three main challenges holistically.
In healthcare, we know it’s better to be proactive. Reducing stress, watching your diet and exercising to prevent a heart attack is a proactive approach instead of undergoing a triple bypass after the attack hits. Doctors see warning signs, like high cholesterol and blood pressure, take proactive measures and put patients on a care plan to prevent a cardiac event. For Summit Health, the ICD-10 requirement was our warning sign and the reason we took proactive measures early on. We knew we had to take dramatic steps to not just meet ICD-10 requirements, but to also prepare for the inevitable and much-needed transition to a value-based system that could significantly impact our bottom line. To stay ahead of the game, we charged forward with a vigorous, preemptive strike to ensure our clinical documentation process set up to succeed in any payment model and any number of coding changes.
If First You Don’t Succeed
Amidst recent criticism that ACOs are failing to control costs, HHS announces an $840 million initiative designed to improve patient care and lower costs. The Transforming Clinical Practice Initiative will provide 150,000 clinicians with incentives and tools to “encourage doctors to team with their peers and others to move from volume-driven systems to value-based, patient-centered, and coordinated health care services.” Sounds a lot like the goal for ACOs, which HHS hoped would help providers to “work together to provide higher-quality coordinated care to their patients, while helping to slow health care cost growth.”
DeSalvo and Reider exit the ONC
Karen DeSalvo, MD, the national coordinator for health information technology for HHS, steps down from her post just 10 months into her job to assume the role of Acting Assistant Secretary of Health to address “pressing public health issues,” including the Ebola outbreak. The same day Deputy National Coordinator Jacob Reider, MD announced that he would also leave the ONC at the end of November. The ONC’s COO Lisa Lewis will serve as Acting National Coordinator. The changes comes at a time when critics are asking tough questions about the government’s Meaningful Use program and providers’ lackluster progress qualifying for Stage 2.
Epic, Ebola, and (legal) Payola
Epic President Carl Dvorak stands behind his company’s EMR and blames Texas Health Presbyterian clinicians for the mishandling of the country’s first Ebola patient. Meanwhile, the health system’s Chief Clinical Officer Daniel Varga, MD tells a Congressional committee that his organization is “deeply sorry” for “mistakes.” In unrelated Epic news, the company discloses it spent $24,000 over the last two months lobbying Congress. Epic is in the running for the Pentagon’s $11 billion EMR contract and fighting criticisms that its platform lacks interoperability.
BY MICHAEL MILLENSON
There’s an infection that afflicts thousands of Americans yearly, killing an estimated one in five of those who contract it, and costs tens of thousands of dollars per person to treat. Though there’s a proven way to dramatically reduce or even eliminate it, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) inexplicably seems in no hurry to do so.
Unlike Ebola, this infection isn’t transmitted from person to person, with the health care system desperately racing to keep up. Instead, it’s caused by the health care system when clinicians don’t follow established anti-infection protocols – very much like what happened when Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital encountered its first Ebola patient. That hospital’s failure flashes a warning sign to all of us.
The culprit in this case is called CLABSI, short for “central-line associated bloodstream infection.” A central line is a catheter placed into a patient’s torso to make it easier to infuse critical medications or draw blood. Because the lines are inserted deep into patients already weakened by illness, an infection can be catastrophic.
CLABSIs are deadlier than typhoid fever or malaria. Last year alone they affected more than 10,000 adults, according to hospital reports to the CDC, and nearly 1,700 children, according to an analysis of hospital discharge records. The infections also cost an average of nearly $46,000 per patient to treat, adding up to billions of dollars yearly.
At one time, CLABSIs were thought to be largely unavoidable. But in 2001, Dr. Peter Pronovost, a critical care medicine specialist at Johns Hopkins, simplified existing guidelines into an easy five-step checklist with items like “wash hands” and “clean patient’s skin with an antibacterial agent.” Hopkins’ CLABSI rate plunged.
When I recently returned home after a two-week speaking tour of Canada and began catching up on news about Obamacare, I was angry and upset, and not just at politicians and special interests that benefit from deception-based PR tactics.
I was — and still am — mostly angry and upset with myself. And I know I always will be.
Over the course of a two-decade career as a health insurance executive, I spent hours and hours implementing my industry’s ongoing propaganda campaign to mislead people about the Canadian health care system.
We spread horror stories about “rationed care” and long waiting times for medically necessary care. Our anecdotes were not at all representative of most Canadians’ experiences, but we spent millions of dollars to persuade Americans that they were.
At every stop between Halifax and Vancouver last month, I explained how the United States had achieved the dubious distinction of having both the most expensive health care system on the planet and also one of the most inequitable.
While Canadian lawmakers in the 1960s were implementing a partnership between the federal and provincial governments to create the country’s publicly funded universal health insurance system — known as Medicare — our lawmakers in Washington were establishing America’s own single-payer Medicare program, but only for folks 65 and older and some younger disabled people.
Congress also created the federal and state-administered Medicaid program for the nation’s poor.
Ever since, most of the rest of us have had to deal with private insurance companies and pay whatever they felt like charging us for coverage.
He was a middle-aged gentleman, neatly dressed—very simple and unassuming. He blended like a lifeless statue in the waiting area. What sparked my notice of him was his accompanying robust file, crammed with familiar pink discharge slips from the ED.
He was clearly what we call a “frequent flyer”, but this would be his first visit in our surgical clinic.
I escorted him into the assessment room, exchanging the usual salutations as he edged unto the exam table, wincing with discomfort. His chief complaint read, “acute abdominal pain and constipation x 1 week.”
Vying to understand more about his issue, I asked, “Sir, how long have you had this problem?” Embarrassed, he lowered his head.
I retreated and instead remarked, “Ok. Let’s start from today. Where do you have the most pain?”
Tenderly, his frail digits unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a wasted torso, which hoisted an extraordinarily distended abdomen. It appeared rigid and tense. I reached out to gently palpate it to confirm the realism of my observations. He flinched. His stoic affect instantly collapsed into an aching frown.
Tears welled in his eyes. Something terrible was going on inside. Cancer.
He needed to be admitted and surgery would be very likely, if not too late. I was aplomb in my explanation of his condition, feeling proud of my thoroughness and precision. Yet, seemingly unengaged, he politely interrupted and asked, “How much will it cost to let me die?”
I paused. It was probably the most awkward question I had been asked before, and I did not have an answer. During my training, I was taught to order tests wisely, to avoid superfluous exams and to minimize inefficiency of resources; in spite of this, I had not ever stopped to think about cost in this context.
In my mind, it was my duty to provide the best, quality care to extend life, foremost. Yet, his concern was different. How much would it cost to die?
Somewhat ironically, I returned from Manhattan that same day to a waiting email from a colleague, forwarding me a rather excoriating critique of integrative medicine on The Health Care Blog, and asking me for my opinion.
The juxtaposition, it turns out, was something other than happenstance. The Cleveland Clinic has recently introduced the use of herbal medicines as an option for its patients, generating considerable media attention.
Some of it, as in the case of the Katie Couric Show, is of the kinder, gentler variety. Some, like The Health Care Blog — is rather less so. Which is the right response?
One might argue, from the perspective of evidence based medicine, that harsh treatment is warranted for everything operating under the banner of “alternative” medicine, or any of the nomenclature alternative to “alternative” — such as complementary, holistic, traditional, or integrative.
One might argue, conversely, for a warm embrace from the perspective of patient-centered care, in which patient preference is a primary driver.
I tend to argue both ways, and land in the middle. I’ll elaborate.
After my last post about “the gift of cancer” I must say that CLL has felt much less like a gift this month.
Joining the ranks of those with “a diagnosis” has given me a some insight into what our patients face all the time.
Recently, I received my second dose of humility. I capped off a truly exhausting week in the hospital with a routine lab follow-up.
The last day of my 85-hour week I had my CBC checked, and my platelets dropped from the 100s to the 30s.
My first reaction was denial. Lab error.
Unfortunately, they dropped further the next day and I realized that the little red bumps on my legs weren’t some skin reaction, but petechiae. Bummer. Turns out that in addition to the 2% of people diagnosed with CLL under age 40, I also joined the 20% who develop idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura (ITP).
The treatment of choice for ITP is prednisone 1mg/kg. So after a visit with my oncologist, I started 80mg of prednisone.
I realized with more than a little chagrin that I have a double standard about therapeutics. I was surprised at how much I despise being on prednisone.
I had never taken it before, and I would guess that I prescribe it every week, if not every day, that I work in the hospital. I have always felt that prednisone is fine for my patients to take.
Steroids work to help clear up that asthma flare, quickly improve that gout pain, or even help with a burst of energy in the last days or weeks of life for a terminal patient.
But for me? No thank you.
An article containing some ideas from The No Asshole Rule appeared in The McKinsey Quarterly some time ago and was summarized in The Economist.
This post is motivated by the question with which The Economist ends its little story: “If jerks cost firms so dearly, why are so many them employed?”
I think that it is a good question, and one that I have puzzled over a lot. To their point:
A study of American workers released in March found that 44 percent of Americans reported they have worked for an abusive boss. This study was conducted by the Reed Group for the Employment Law Alliance.
They surveyed a representative sample of 1,000 American adults within the past two weeks, which resulted in interviews with 534 workers.
Things are even worse in some occupations, notably medicine. A longitudinal study of nearly 3,000 medical students from 16 medical schools was just published in The British Medical Journal. Erica Frank and her colleagues at the Emory Medical School found that 42 percent of seniors reported being harassed by fellow students, professors, physicians, or patients; 84 percent reported they had been belittled and 40 percent reported being both harassed and belittled.
The full report is here. Similarly, a 2003 study of 461 nurses published in the journal of Orthopaedic Nursing found that 91 percent had experienced verbal abuse in the past month. Physicians were the most frequent source of such nastiness, but it also came from patients and their families, fellow nurses, and supervisors.
The No Asshole Rule suggests a few reasons why there are so many.
1. In our society, we value winners so much that, even if they are jerks, we tolerate, or even glorify, them because — so long as they keep making money or winning games — we think they are worth the trouble. Exhibit one is Coach Bob Knight and his long tenure at Indiana University. The administration didn’t have the courage to get rid of him because he won so many games, despite a history of atrocious behavior.
See this story and the associated 1997 video clip: It sure looks to me like he is choking the player. Knight brags that he “did it my way,” but I don’t want people doing things that way in my organization, no matter how great they “perform.”