Friday Morning Overload

Somewhere mid-morning on Friday I lost control. Things were perking along very nicely and then suddenly (or so it seemed to me), I was nearly an hour behind. Up until then even my EHR notes were signed at the end of each visit. Perhaps it is my German heritage, but my skin begins to crawl when patients wait more than fifteen minutes. For years it has been a matter of pride that they rarely waited longer than five or ten minutes and frequently they were seen within a minute or two of their appointment time. Nor did patients feel they were getting short shrift from me. My scheduling clerk knew her business and the patients well enough to pad an appointment when necessary. In the last three months that has not been the case. Hopefully this is temporary due to the extra time involved in learning our new documenting system but being behind brought me to a reflection on the importance of timely appointments.

Sometimes, no matter how good my intentions, the cards are stacked against me--Mrs. Jones lost her job and her mother in the same month; Mr. Bausier came in for a cold but just happened to mention the pressure sensation in his chest that seems to be more frequent and is associated with exertion; and in listening to Mrs. Roberts' heart it is obvious that the rhythm is just not right. And all in the same morning. Other times, it's more personal--I'm talking to a patient whose daughter went to high school with mine and we have to catch up or my favorite French national comes in who prefers to tell me her medical problems in her native tongue. Not because it's better for her but she knows I need the practice. 

On Friday, my schedule was so off that by the twelfth of thirteen patients that morning my sugar was low, my mood was cranky, and my thought processes had slowed to a crawl. Frustratingly, somewhere in the brain fog I recognized those last two patients did not get my best care. Did they recognize my distress or just think that Dr. Nieder didn't care about their needs? Statistically patients have a problem speaking up for themselves in a doctor's office[1,2] and in my own uncomfortable state of mind it is unlikely I would have picked up on their discomfort!

Someday, hopefully soon, the office will find the right balance in scheduling for our new system. For now, I'm taking a lot of deep breaths and hoping that patients know I still respect their time and am struggling to give them good care under difficult circumstances. 

1. http://healthecommunications.wordpress.com/2010/09/01/five-reasons-why-people-do-not-ask-their-doctor-questions/

2.http://newsroom.pamf.org/2012/05/patients-fear-being-labeled-difficult/

Mission Accomplished

Mrs. Smith is adamant, "That amlodipine is making me tired! I can't take it." Ms. Smith is 86 years old and her blood pressure is reaching a systolic of 200. She's still mentally alert and volunteers at a local hospital every week, drives herself to places nearby and lives alone. It is scaring me because I don't want her to stroke. This is the third BP med she has rejected in as many months. I've checked for other causes but think her age is just catching up to her.  Previously she has had a systolic in the 150's and several years ago we tried several meds, all of which she refused to take. I gave up then but now I'm much more concerned. She has no family to speak of...we go over the pros and cons of the medication. She reluctantly agrees that if she dies from a stroke that would be fine but being in a nursing home unable to talk or walk would be horrible. She will try the medication for another month. "But doctor if I can't do the things I want to do, I am not going to keep taking it!" She agrees to try it and surprises me with a hug as she walks out the door. "It's OK Dr. Nieder, I'm not going to live forever."

Tim Jones slammed his finger in a door and sees the hand doctor on Monday for a non-displaced fracture of his little finger. He wants to ride this weekend in a 100 mile bike ride for some charity or other. "Honestly, what is the risk?" We discuss the fact that the ride itself could cause swelling of the fingers and lots of pain, not to mention if he falls and hits it. "They splinted it really well at the immediate care center. I promise not to take too much ibuprofen." I give my blessing and hope he is safe.

Mary White arrives, late as usual. My staff is used to that, so they try to schedule her at the end of the day. She has a short litany of minor issues, brings me up to speed on her minor medical problems with specialists, has her yearly exam, we discuss her perfect blood chemistries and she is out the door. 

After 25 years, my patients have me well-trained. And vice-versa--they only call me at night with true emergencies and they apologize when they wake me, they rarely call for last minute refills because they forgot, they bring their meds with them when they come for an appointment and they arrive on time because I'm on time (well, at least I was until Electronic Health Records began three weeks ago). Reflecting on my practice it occurs to me that this is what I hoped my patient relationships would be like at this point in my professional life. 

Mission accomplished. Wonder what comes next?

Burning Out on Friday Afternoon

Recently a Mayo Clinic sponsored study reported that the rate of physician burnout was much higher than other careers in the US[1], especially among front-line specialties like Family Medicine. This Friday afternoon in preparation to seeing my last patient it hit me "Is this sensation burnout?" Inwardly groaning--a new middle-aged woman with obesity and several psychiatric meds, my thoughts ran to "Who put her on my schedule damn it. It's Friday afternoon. What did they think they were doing? Doesn't anyone care about MY needs when they're scheduling" or words to that effect. For a few moments I pondered my office life.

Lately, my office looks cleaner, because EHR (electronic health records) hides the mass of unfinished charts instead of having them all stacked on my desk. Now there is no obvious sign of all the work I do--no notice to my employer that I am an important, busy and valuable doctor. Despite the reduction in mess, I rarely leave the office before 7, often am there until 9 and everyone keeps telling me that it will get better, since we're only four weeks "in". This is exhausting me but at least my husband frequently meets me at the door with a glass of wine in hand. For this I am grateful since sometimes I finish up my charts on-line from  the couch.

Then there's House Bill 1, the irritating and unfriendly-to-patient-care narcotic bill that takes up extra time and deprives my patients of therapeutic medications and remains a thorn in my side.

Add to those aggravations the everyday frustrations of practicing medicine in today's fragmented healthcare system and maybe I needed to worry. This line of thought hit me as  I took a big breath, walking in the door expecting the worst and spent the next thirty minutes with a delightful woman who was already taking steps to improve her health. She was working with a trainer, she'd already started losing about twenty pounds. She was upbeat and interesting and I walked out of that room energized.

This Friday I got lucky. Maybe next Friday I'll be drained. Reflecting on the end of my day I realized that's just how the rhythm flows in Family Medicine. Like most professions, some days are better than others, but looking at the averages, my curve is mostly on the up. I still like what I do.

1. Shanafelt, Tait D. Burnout and Satisfaction With Work-Life Balance Among US Physicians Relative to the General US Population. August 20, 2012. http://www.webcitation.org/6AtdqOc4p