By James Salwitz, MD
Lists guide our lives. Some are easy, even fun, like a menu or shopping list. Some are simple tick-offs for work, like my wife’s honey-do list. Others are frightening, like a draft list.
Some are melancholy, such as the inventory in a Will. We are inspired by our bucket-list. Finally, some are exciting, but stir conflict, like awedding invitation list.
I have a list, which makes me slightly anxious, a little depressed, and which takes modest courage to open up. That is my patient’s list of daily X-ray reports.
Our Electronic Medical Record (EMR), as based around a home page or “Inbox.” This is a continuously updated assembly of data and messages from our practice and patients.
There are medical orders to approve, questions from nurses and patients, billing inquiries, documents to sign, lab results and emergency alerts about patients in trouble.
Except for the drudgery of pushing through a pile of CMS documentation, those lists have scant emotional impact on me. Not so the eighth list, just four from the bottom: Radiology Documents.
These are the results delivered electronically of any MRI, CT scan, bone scan, chest X-ray or other imaging study, that I, or other doctors, have ordered on my patients. Every 24 hours, between 15 and 30 new reports pop-up.
Opening this section I see three columns; the patient’s name, the date the test was performed, and the type of test.
One click on each line yields a neat, formatted, typed report. These are more than just data. More than simple facts. These are final, cold, hard answers to the biggest questions of all.
Is Sue’s cancer is responding to therapy? Does Pete’s shortness of breath mean “just” pneumonia or a blood clot, or has his kidney cancer has metastasized to his lungs? Did Sid pull his back shoveling snow or is that sharp pain a vertebra fractured by prostate cancer?
Is Alan’s forgetfulness fatigue, Alzheimer’s or perhaps something more insidious, the bloom of glioma cells deep in his brain?
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