Islands

Remember Gilligan’s Island? No? Well, the rest of us will wait here while you catch up.

Part of the fun I had while watching that TV show was seeing the incredible contraptions – from a washing machine to a pedal-powered car - the castaways constructed to make their life easier. (I still enjoy hearing about ingenious solutions to everyday problems. That’s part of what has made our Clinical Practice Redesign project satisfying to me.)

But, the Gilligan’s Island community had its limitations. Even though each of the 7 residents played a unique role (only 6 roles, if you count the Howell’s as one amalgamated upper-class twit), they never managed to reach their goal of leaving the island. Even though the island was idyllic, both naturally and due to their bamboo gadgetry, they still wanted to go home. But, they were never able to muster the resources to do so. The castaways occasionally had visitors from the outside world, but circumstances were comically contrived so that escape remained elusive.

I think we’re in a Gilligan’s Island situation in our office. We’ve made a lot of successful internal changes. Our practice is more efficient and (we hope!) more effective. But, there are some changes that we can’t make on our own island. We rely on other practitioners and services to provide a continuum of patient care. But circumstances remain not-so-comically contrived to that improved patient access remains elusive.

The wait time for specialist consultation has been our main target. But, that’s only one part of what makes up the patient’s experience. Patients wait to see their GP, then for testing, then to review the tests with their GP, then for a specialist referral, and so on, until they have their problem resolved. A more patient-centred metric would be to measure the time between onset of symptoms to complete recovery. Attempts to measure this time illustrate the complexity of our healthcare system, and the interrelationships between individual departments.

Our recent office blitz made us more aware of the way our private practice meshes with other parts of Saskatoon Health Region (SHR). We anticipated that we would need better access to xray procedures – mainly CT scans – in order to be able to schedule patients on short notice. The SHR xray department was very helpful when we approached them about this, and allotted specific times for our blitz patients to receive CT scans.

However, the increased patient volume over the blitz period caused a surge in the number of other procedures being scheduled, and we haven’t received additional resources to deal with that. Cystoscopies have been particularly challenging to complete in a timely fashion. Also, many of our patients still wait up to a year for certain kinds of surgery.

The problem is that we’re all living on individual healthcare islands, each with its own culture. On some of the islands, conditions are rough and the inhabitants are motivated to make changes to improve their lot. I’ve been told that family practitioners are among the first to adopt Clinical Practice Redesign because they are overwhelmed by patient load and the need help to deal with multiple, chronic medical problems in their patients.

On other islands/practices, life is good – perfect weather, low-hanging fruit, no annoying insects. Why would anyone ever want to change? I’m not suggesting that anyone working in healthcare has this perfect situation, but some of us are more comfortable than others. And so, when the hard-living inhabitants of one island call for help from their more fortunate neighbors, what’s in it for those living the easy life? We market Clinical Practice Redesign by telling doctors “Trust us. If you try it, things will be better!” (Disclaimer: I think it is better!) If you were living in paradise, would you want to take a chance that the next island over was an even better paradise?

To get everyone working toward the same goal, someone has to turn up the heat. On Gilligan’s Island, it would be a plot device like rumbling and smoke coming from the island’s volcano. In healthcare, motivation could come from various sources:

- Make public, transparent and accurate reports of wait times for GP and specialist visits, cancer treatment, surgical and other procedures. Report by practitioner and health region. We’re a competitive bunch, and no one wants to be at the back of the pack.

- Make it financially disadvantageous to ignore long wait times. Reward practitioners who manage their resources wisely. Put your money where your mouth is.

- Offer support and education to help practitioners apply Advanced Access principles. People can’t improve the system if they don’t know what tools are available (see “Juice”).

- Prove that paradise does exist – showcase examples of successful initiatives that have improved the lives of patients and practitioners.

Anyone know where we can find an angry volcano god?

Seven-year Itch

My partners and I had under our care a man with a life-threatening problem. His urinary bleeding was severe enough that he required blood transfusions every few days. Surgery seemed the only option that would help him. The complicating factor was that he had suffered a heart attack a week earlier. Giving him an anaesthetic would put him in danger of a second, more serious heart attack.

If we put off the surgery, his condition would gradually deteriorate. At that point, if surgery was performed, he would be weaker and more susceptible to the stress of the operation. Both courses – continuing observation and blood transfusions, or performing surgery – were risky.

Surgeons have a predilection toward intervention over observation. Maybe it’s because physicians with that temperament choose surgery as a specialty. Or, maybe surgeons develop that trait because the medical system triages patients who will benefit from intervention, and streams them into our hands. Whatever the reason, we recommended surgery to our patient. We prepared him as best we could and then took him to the operating room. The bleeding was stopped and he went home 2 days later.

That was a very gratifying and immediate result.

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Over the last 3 years, coincident with our urology group’s Advanced Access project, I’ve become involved in other quality improvement efforts, both in the Saskatoon Health Region and also on a provincial scale. As does our office project, these other initiatives address significant deficiencies in health care. I continue to work on all these projects because I strongly believe that, when implemented, they will transform the way patients experience care in Saskatoon and Saskatchewan.

“When implemented”, that is, because it is taking a long time to see results!

In all these projects, the first phase was very exciting: Working with excited and motivated colleagues, and imagining possibilities. But initial planning has given way to the long slog. We meet regularly, but I’m getting discouraged at the lack of progress that I perceive.

I don’t mean that there isn’t action on these projects. Policies and protocols are being written, and subcommittees are formed. But I want to see changes that improve patient care. Pronto. Or I want to focus my efforts on something that will make a difference.

Maybe I’ve been spoiled by Advanced Access. After all, our office project is on a smaller scale, in an environment where I have a fair bit of direct influence, and involves a group of motivated people who directly provide patient care. (I include the docs and our staff in that group.) We’ve had quick payoffs from changes like pooled referrals, better communication with referring docs, and optimizing our patient recall practices. It’s very gratifying to see prompt results from implementation of these changes.

Perhaps physicians’ temperaments (selected by medical schools, or nurtured in medical schools – your choice) are more suited to the satisfaction of immediate results: Surgery for appendicitis, or penicillin for strep throat, for example.

I’m griping partly out of frustration, but I also want to explore my discouragement in order to understand how to maintain other physicians’ engagement in change initiatives. If enthusiasts/early adopters become disenchanted with the slow pace of change, then it’s going to be exponentially more difficult to keep the next echelon of physician champions engaged.

If you’re an administrator, you may be reading this and thinking “Well, what’s so special about Kishore’s time and effort? I sit on the same committees and share the same frustration.” Yes, I’m sure you do. But, there is a significant difference between us. I have another job – my clinical work – and in that job, I get to see the results of my actions regularly and promptly. Almost every consultation requires coming up with a management plan, and then putting the plan promptly into action. Even when the outcomes aren’t the desired ones, there’s still a satisfaction in working through a problem and executing a plan on your patient’s behalf.

So, if I (and other physicians) don’t find satisfaction in tangible results from quality improvement efforts, I can devote all my time to clinical work.

I’m an action junkie. Give me my fix.

Blessing in Disguise

Our fridge conked out two weeks ago. Not the main kitchen fridge, mind you; it was the basement auxiliary fridge that died. So, it wasn’t an absolute crisis, but it has made us rethink some of our habits.

The luxury of having a 2nd fridge gives us extra food-storage capacity. But that extra capacity has made us a little careless. Here’s what’s changed at our house over the last 2 weeks:

• We actively consider what’s in the fridge. Usually, leftovers would get pushed to the back of the shelf and, unless someone was specifically looking for that item, would often be discovered weeks later (inedible!). We’re wasting less food.
• If food does go stale, it gets thrown out before it gets too disgusting.
• I pack leftovers in my lunch more frequently. My intent is to make room in the fridge, but I’ve discovered that it also saves time when I’m putting a lunch together. Putting leftovers in a container is usually quicker than making a sandwich. It saves even more time if I remember to put some leftovers directly into a small container when I’m cleaning up after supper.
• We’re more careful about the size of storage containers we use. Rather than grabbing the first available container and then filling it halfway, we’ll pick a smaller container that will be filled completely.