Cosmos or chaos: Which way to health reform?

Note: The point of the post is to open up a view to the extraordinary power of the present moment; how we are inventing a new health paradigm. Ideas mustn't be limited to accepted standards such as "efficiency," etc. Although those standards are important, beauty is too.

Healing messages can be simple
We rely and organize the experience of illness - as well as the experience of health - around cultural archetypes. This process of cultural meaning typically transmits without our conscious awareness. Here is a nano-example:

If we suffer a cut to the skin that is deep and threatening, most of us will call 911 and/or drive immediately to the ER. We do not contemplate the symbols or assumptions embedded in the ER experience as we take action to stop the bleeding. In this case, the moment of healing is black and white: "Get to the ER, stop the bleeding ... or perish."

Healing messages can also be complex
Yet, in many other (perhaps most) cases, and especially in the area of health promotion and prevention, the complexity of healing messages really heats up. Grey matter abounds. Being healthy looks more like fluid movement toward certain forces rather than arresting the flow of other forces. Herein lies the sweet spot of health reform, the place where we have lots of potential to influence up (by generation) if we can figure out where to put the investment.

The sweet spot of health reform
Working our way into the sweet spot *is* rocket science as a colleague on Twitter wrote recently. (Please help me id this tweet.)

As it stands now, not only is an appointment for a well visit supposed to include tailored:

• temporal reinforcements (i.e., "I'll be in touch with the results;");
• an awareness of gender and religious preferences;
• succinct and passionate delivery of avoidance marketing messages ("Limit/avoid tobacco use"; "Avoid eating too much fat.");

we'd also like a moment of respite, a bit of energy transcending the doctor-patient relationship to makes us feel good. Not so easy for a health care worker or physician to convey all of this rich stuff in a 15 minute visit.

It's no wonder every one's first best guess is to believe technology can help. But perhaps we could get to the changes more organically by growing the country's social awareness of health as a finite resource. It is ours to lose.

A conceptual dialog
As the national conversation around trade-offs in health reform progresses, I wonder why a rare opportunity to reflect on "what makes us feel good/bad about our health" (long wait lines @ doctors' offices, no advance calls to drug stores, no guarantees for good health, difficulty with communicating on all levels, feeling alone, or powerless to deal with bad habits and expenses, and an overall sense that one needs to pay to play the health game) is being passed by. ...

Could it be that this omission is due to the difficulty of working with conceptual ideas on a national scale?

Or, alternatively, could it be that skirting conversations about negative work flow is a strategy to deal with information fallout - a feeling that we simply have too much data (and too many of those "black and white" needs) to synthesize, so, "Enough already!"

Then again, could it be plain old-fashioned profit and politics? Is it possible that politicians (and many Americans) disdain conceptual thinking because it exacerbates feelings of uncertainty while at the same time exposing alliances and preferences that most of us would rather leave alone.

Cosmos or chaos: Which way to true health reform?
Health reform is much more than performance art and politics. It is much more than retrofitting a highway design from the 50s and equipping it with EZ-Pass technology. Health reform is about the development of America's identity, as well as America's marketplaces. And that's why we need to have a strategy, a "cosmos" to help us move most efficiently.

That's right, we must create and engineer a "cosmos" for health care, not a chaos.

A cosmos for health care is a higher concept with a clear, energized vibration. It conveys the extraordinary responsibility we share in the creation of revised archetypes of care. It acknowledges what is wrong, where we need to learn. AND it illuminates the beauty of the ideas proposed, not just hammers away at the bean count level.

We are *gets tingles* literally inventing, and reinventing, powerful partnerships with the human genome, smart technology, data streams, and ever evolving human beings. If we do it well - we'll disrupt current health infrastructure for the foreseeable future. Of course we should expect chaos.

But we cannot stop at chaos. To stop at chaos is to miss this opportunity entirely. Like an artist who shows his angst without the beauty that grows out of it, we must be led to the cosmos of the next generation of care and opt in. That is the way to leverage the chaos of disruption.

A bias for beauty
We don't often think that health reform can be beautiful. In fact, we are heavily committed to a belief in anxiety and constrictive energy around choices, winning and losing. However, our process seems false. It seems to be one that hurries along, that forces quick steps to mimic progress on a path unnamed. The motions are jerky, motivated by a fear that the country's needs may (will soon) catch up and overwhelm the medical pacts we made long ago.

As the system asks us to follow a more orderly, simpler path along the journey what will be our response? Cosmos or chaos? An unrelenting, steep uphill with no respite, no shady overlooks, and, certainly, little inspiration?

Change is awkward
If we identify the changes so many of us yearn for, and create a way to talk about those changes on a conceptual level first, wouldn't we be better equipped to create cosmos (and requisite policies) that are truly transformational, affordable and life-affirming?
...
Related posts:
Mother of all health reform
Are we betting on the "me" in medicine?
A limitation of Health 2.0
Shopping for health insurance
If e-health was simple...
People, not patients

Health reform: For amateurs too?

We played "Kid's Topics" in the car on our way home from a long trip a few days ago. One of the cards queried, "What makes you feel better when you are sick?"

My son, age 8, blurted, "Sipping Coke sometimes helps!" My daughter said, "Getting hugs from my mom." They both agreed that "Resting on the couch with the TV on," also felt good when they felt bad.

So simple. These remedies are the things we have taught them to feel good about doing when they are home from school with an infection of some kind. "Take a sip of this warm Coke." "Rest here on the couch and I'll put on Animal Planet." Etc., etc.

Right or wrong from an evidence-based perspective, as parents we build and transmit our nations health culture. Period.

In the conscious minds of most of laypeople, what most of us identify as healing is not what experts purport, but what we are taught to believe in, right or wrong. Sometimes there is overlap, but not always. The disparities are cultural issues - not just educational/economic gaps - and, unfortunately, seem to have little to do with health care and health care rationing as it is being discussed today in the Federal arena.

Amateurs need a say in the health care debate in order to make this work.

In a wonderful piece, "The Avenging Amateur," a Time Magazine editorial by Kurt Andersen, historian Daniel Boorstin is quoted as saying, "The greatest obstacle to discovery is not ignorance, but the illusion of knowledge."

How true the existence of the "Illusion of Knowledge" has turned out to be in recent health care reform debates, even those on supposed "Social" channels, such as Twitter.

Unfortunately, without reforms that acknowledge and revise cultural expectations and underpinnings, we will have a hard time realizing health reform in this county. We may reform an aspect of the system -- the work flow, the billing -- but we will miss a tremendous opportunity for real reform if we do not develop a way to work on the cultural level.

When I contemplate what Obama's health care reform program (i.e., the money he's put on the table) might mean, I get the chills. To an amateur, it is simply a mind-blowing opportunity to engineer not just new work flows, but new meanings too.

Endorse the right to access your health data!

No patient/caregiver/provider can do his or her job without access to data. That's why I support "A Declaration of Health Data Rights" from HealthDataRights.org.

ENDORSE NOW

In an era when technology allows personal health information to be more easily stored, updated, accessed and exchanged, the following rights should be self-evident and inalienable. We the people:

1. Have the right to our own health data
2. Have the right to know the source of each health data element
3. Have the right to take possession of a complete copy of our individual health data, without delay, at minimal or no cost; if data exist in computable form, they must be made available in that form
4. Have the right to share our health data with others as we see fit

These principles express basic human rights as well as essential elements of health care that is participatory, appropriate and in the interests of each patient. No law or policy should abridge these rights.

ENDORSE THE RIGHT TO ACCESS TO YOUR DATA NOW

Related

Are we betting on the "me" in medicine?
If e-health was simple...
Mother of all health reform

Father's Day and Multiple Sclerosis: A Two-step Dance with Dad

originally published in 2008

Wasn't it Anne Sexton who said "It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was." That quote invites me to reflect on the fact that memories of my father are divided into: Memories of Dad before MS (Multiple Sclerosis) and Memories of Dad after MS.

MS first visited my dad when he was 50. It was sneaky: A quiet but persistent tingling in the toes and intense fatigue that he just couldn't shake. (Learn about early symptoms.)

I was 17, preparing for college, the future. Dad was in a different place — his own pain — a pain he held privately for a long time.

Because an MS diagnosis may take a while to be confirmed, he spent many years fighting what ultimately became a confirmed MS diagnosis.

He was determined not to believe it for a while and just figured he'd "push on through." (Just the same way Dad would cope with cold and flu ...)

But MS had a better plan. Let's just say it took as long a time for the disease to unfold as it took for my dad to accept the diagnosis. Maybe that was a saving grace, since a faster progression might have been too much for him.

Before MS, my dad was active and outdoorsy. Very much a "man in his body" he liked to work hard and play hard. I remember my dad — built like a lumberjack and with the ruddy complexion of a sailor — up on the roof fixing cedar shingles, sailing our small boat with friends and family, building custom cabinetry for the house, and doing everything he could himself in order to save money for the future, for education.

Dad kept his family active too. I remember my father skiing downhill on frosty mountain mornings. I remember the long rides he scored while body-surfing in the Atlantic. I remember tennis lessons with him, and watching him genuflect at the edge of a church pew on Sunday mornings after a rowdy Saturday evening with his friends ...

But if I had to pick one pre MS memory of Dad to preserve it would be of him on the dance floor. My dad was so sure-footed and gifted on the dance floor that he literally made any woman glow-n-glide like a natural. The last dance I shared with my dad was on my wedding day, an impressive 12 years after his initial diagnosis.

While I will forever and always cherish the meaning behind that last dance with dad, I have grown to love and admire, just as much, the memories my post-MS dad — still just 65 years old and full of life — gives me.

For instance, I am so very proud that after years of teetering on the verge of a fall, rather than using one of the canes he bought "for the day he needed one" my dad has given his family the memory of a man who accepted his diagnosis and is learning to live well with it — even though the losses continue to be significant and they hurt a lot ... a real lot.
I am proud that after years of fighting his diagnosis my dad teaches me and my children to ask and receive help when they are sick or need assistance.

I am proud that after avoiding the learning he was being asked to do, my dad is now enrolling in drug studies and that he uses a scooter to stay engaged and independent in activities when his energy affords him the chance to do so.

I love and deeply admire the courage my father shows when he makes small adjustments to his life with MS. Instead of building and installing those heavy wooden cabinets, he now carves award-winning decoys of light-weight wood. Instead of being first at sports, he's first with patience for others ... and first to accept when someone he loves comes up short.

It may sound corny, but Dad, you have given me the memory of two men's lives. I will cherish them both always.

Happy Father's Day to a guy whose life gives a whole new interpretation of the famous old Two-step Dance. We love you so — perhaps twice as much — for being who you are.

Summer with Children: Remembering the Gift of Parenthood

Written by Margaret Leeson, mother of 3

We are entering that blessed season when, hopefully, our children's schedules thin and they are, thankfully, left with more time to contemplate and experiment with boundaries. As I ready myself for my first summer with a teenager in the house, I am especially aware of the bounty of opportunities that lie ahead: for her to pull one way and for me to gently remind that, yes, there are still boundaries even after 13. And with good reason.

The last several months have provided moments for me to get warmed-up in this arena.

As in much of life, sometimes in parenting lessons come to us from the backside. For one lesson I am particularly grateful, even as it caused disappointment at the moment of impact. Allow me to recount this simple story. Simple though it is in that it likely replays itself daily throughout our culture, the lessons taken home for me hold great significance.

Not too long ago, a group of my elementary school sons’ peers labeled me “over protective.” Their primary basis for such labels, they told my sons, is that I do not allow my boys to play the Xbox 360 Halo games. (With the exception of one Halo game which is rated for a Teen audience, the Halo games are rated for a Mature audience.)

Although I have followed the underpinnings which lead to this encounter, the exchange nevertheless surprised me. What surprised me the most about the accusation is the judgment that necessarily underlies the label “overprotective.” The Random House College Dictionary defines “over protect” this way: “to protect (esp. a child) to the point of inhibiting appropriate action or development.” And so the logical conclusion is that the activities to which the other children were referring are “appropriate.” The question raised for this parent, then, is: How do we define appropriate? What if everyone else is doing it? What if your intuition guides in a fundamentally different direction from the tides in which your children swim?

Recently, I had the great privilege of listening to a talk titled “But Everyone Else Is” by Michelle Kriebel. Michelle is a consultant with Jeff Wolfsberg & Associates, Inc., Drug Education and Wellness Specialists. She travels the country speaking with parents in the middle school years about the topic of peer pressure: How deeply it permeates our children’s lives and how to gain perspective on the intensity of emotions that it engenders.

Essentially, the basis for the intensity of peer pressure and the “But Everyone Else Is” perspective is two-fold:

1. The frontal lobe (in particular the prefrontal cortex) of the brain (that part of the brain responsible for careful and reasoned decision-making) does not develop until a child reaches his early to mid-20s. The part of the brain which governs childhood as well as early and late adolescence is the amygdila. The amygdila is all about impulse. The amygdila is concerned with the now, with the immediacy of our emotions. For better or for worse, the amygdila also invites us to take risks.
2. Vastly expanded technologies of communication, together with the manner in which content is disseminated over the Internet and into our homes have exponentially expanded our children’s notion of the “everyone.” These expanded technologies have also enabled widespread exposure to content which many believe is not developmentally appropriate for the audience which consumes it.

Given these two forces: the undeveloped frontal lobe and the vastly expanded notion of “everyone,” I took home one final valuable lesson from Michelle’s talk. This is the message that children expect us to serve as their frontal lobe, they need us to guide them and model for them and they are emotionally stronger and happier when they know that they have the steady hand of their parents at the tiller while they struggle to weather the storms of growing up.

Given the fact that the amygdila does not enable a child to see the consequences of his action, the message needs to be this: although we need to love our children unconditionally, we do not need to trust their judgments and desires unconditionally. Parents need to remember that, although children and teenagers may act and look like they do not need our guidance or judgment, their brains depend on the perspective and reason of adult minds. And, that is the gift to which the title refers.

The freedom of summer sometimes lays a heavy hand on the true meaning of what it is to be a parent. This year, thankfully, I am reminded that to be a parent is a gift and with that gift comes opportunities to grow and open our minds as we parent.

Bibliography for thoughtful summer reading:

Taking Back Childhood: Helping Your Kids Thrive in a Fast-Paced, Media-Saturated, Violence-Filled World, by Nancy Carlsson-Paige, Ed.D.

Hold On to Your Kids: Why Parents Need to Matter More Than Peers, by Gordon Neufeld, Ph.D. and Gabor Mate, M.D.

The Explosive Child: A New Approach for Understanding and Parenting Easily Frustrated, Chronically Inflexible Children, by Ross W. Greene, Ph.D.

Raising Resilient Children, by Robert Brooks, Ph. D. and Sam Goldstein, Ph.D.

Summer, Act I: Get to the Point, Orient Point

Wondering how I resolved my interest in creating unstructured outdoor play for my kids this summer? Here is the update:

It's official, we're heading to Orient, New York, population 709 (2000 census), for some mom-grown, homespun, wetlands education, wildfowl watching, surf skimming, journaling, and (fingers crossed) not-so-much cabin-fevering fun!

I found a sweet cottage that was just slightly more money per week than I would have spent on camps, plus. Now, I am left to plan how to structure our time (so that we don't spend every second of the day together), and I can remain on the grid partially to tend to my projects.

As always, if you have ideas, suggestions, send them along.

Stop back tomorrow for a guest post by Margaret Leeson, on summer's subtle parenting gifts.

The mother of all health reform

Wish we could point to her, call her by name. What a fabulous spokesperson she'd be. ...

Truth is, there isn't a sole woman behind the movement to reform America's health care system. There are actually dozens of highly trained, powerful men advocating for the "feminine principle" to be restored to our care model. I say "men" to make the point that the feminine principle is not about gender. It is about possessing an awareness of the language, character, and capacity for nurture.

The "mother of all health reform" is an attitude within.

As an organic set of traits for both men and women to cultivate in their adult lives, "anima" balances the masculine principle - the traits that keep us all driving toward outward success, wealth, power, and the most "followers" in any sphere we influence - with the inner drive to connectedness.

The feminine principle is, at the highest level, behind many social movements today.

Think of the Slow Food Movement. What started as a modest philosophical statement, a quest, to restore responsibly produced and nurturing food to the table, the grocery store, and the restaurant has blossomed into a series of "convivia" located around the world that aim directly to advocate for change at the local level. The Slow Food movement has inspired spin-offs: Slow Movement, Slow Money, Slow Travel and Slow Living.

Could "Slow Medicine" be next?

*******
Related
A limitation of Health 2.0: Interpersonal interoperability
Are we betting on the "me" in medicine?
Shopping for health insurance
If e-health was simple...

Medical Facts Mural #1

This morning, Regina Holliday unveiled her first Medical Facts mural at Pumpernickels Deli on Connecticut Ave., in Northwest, DC.

If you are unfamiliar with Regina's story, I hope you'll pause to read it here. Her story outlines the series of frustrations and set-backs (understatement) she's experienced while serving as principal caregiver to her husband, Fred, not yet 40, diagnosed with Stage IV Kidney Cancer early this spring. Fred is now receiving hospice care.
Regina, a mother of two young boys, is an experienced social advocate, having spent years working for special ed reform. Now she plans use her time and talent to bring attention to the issues of transparency in health care.


Links related to health reform:
Ted Eytan writes "Is it meaningful if patients can't use it?" "Read Atul Gawande's New Yorker article" (via e-Patients.net) Donate to Regina's fund

e-Health thinking on this blog:A limitation of Health 2.0: Interpersonal interoperabilityAre we betting on the "me" in medicine?Shopping for health insuranceIf e-health was simple...

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Health 2.0 and Interpersonal Interoperability

Regardless of how we handle the conversation about data and making sure that health information is interoperable across a national health platform (I know we'll get there...), another currency of healing will remain "interpersonal," but with just as much of a need for "interoperability."

That interpersonal currency is called intimacy; the ability to push on with dialog, transparency, and reciprocity in spite of an assortment of uncomfortable feelings that might come up in the process of interacting with illness or even the imminent threat of death. We all share a piece of this space.

A 37th birthday
This morning I received mail from a woman in the midst of a fight for her husband's life. He is diagnosed with stage IV kidney cancer and is in a very challenging place. He is not yet 40, she will be 37 this weekend. They have a 10-year-old with high-functioning autism and another child, just 3 years old. She is an advocate for special education and is extremely gifted.

As I read her story, it struck me that I am completely powerless to "understand what she's going through" and, yet, I (like most people) simultaneously wished to ease her burden. This is a sweet spot for interoperable interpersonal stuff, aka "intimacy."

So, when she told me that it was her birthday on Sunday, I went back and forth with whether-how-if I should reach out with an offer to bake her a cake:

Internal dialog
"She's going to think that I am off if I offer a cake in the middle of this crisis," I thought. Then, I reasoned, "Someone else closer to her has already offered a cake, so don't bother even asking." Finally, I imagined, "Offering a cake is so trite, so meaningless in the face of this kind of situation." Each of these arguments revealed that I was uncomfortable getting closer to the situation; I was scared of being overwhelmed; sucked into a conjured-up messy sick place. I know you get that.

Reaching out
Offering nothing was not an option so I wrote and re-wrote until I just typed out this very short note:

Her name,

I can feel your kick-ass courage; keep on doing what you are doing. This is a tough case and you are doing an amazing job.

Can I bring you and the kids something simple and delicious to eat on Sunday, for your birthday? Maybe a simple dinner with cake for dessert? Heck, I'll even stay to eat and clean up if you want the company.

Christine

A complicated simple
It may seem like a simple message, but I tolerated a great deal of internal dialog to feel like I got it right and didn't patronize her. Remember, when we are on the outside of a healing crisis, we aren't driving the dialog; the other side is. We have to realize a certain loss of authority and control. I hit send.

Her reply (double-checks the sincerity of my offer to bake her a cake)

Christine,

... Would you like to drop off a small cake for Sunday? ...

I was delighted! I quickly wrote back:

I would love to drop off a cake. How do you and the kids like white cake w/ chocolate frosting?

Christine

She fired back

Dear Christine,

White with chocolate frosting sounds very yummy. Thanks so much,

Intimacy confirmed
She used the word, "yummy." How unexpected.

This intimate exchange reminded me that the more we can be authentic and offer our own goodness from that uncomfortable but compassionate place, the more room we give the so-called "patient" to do what feels right for him or her.

It may be a bit sticky or awkward, but sometimes it can be quite "yummy" too.

Related:
People, not patients
Shopping for health insurance
Are we betting on the "me" in medicine?
If e-health was simple...

Trouble me

Gregg Masters, a friend on Twitter, posted a link yesterday to: The dishonesty of honest people.

After reading it, I started thinking about what kind of major disruption consumers could cause if we made room for productive honesty in the health care space.

Huge challenge, but I'll still be asking, "What would make it just a little bit easier to admit fault or frailty to a friend?"

If you knew you had an "A" already - from the friend, the doctor, etc. - would you loosen up into the truth? That's the healing space.

Take it: The Mother's Day dare

Healthy vision or foolishness?

Friends can't help but chuckle at me when I hop on my, "What we really need for the kids during the summer is unstructured, outdoor play," kick. I am used to their chiding by now.

So, when I heard, "You are swimming up stream with that idea," from our friend last night, I wasn't surprised ... 'til he added:

"Fish that swim upstream spawn and then die."

Ouch. Was that utter cynicism from him? Or am I a complete fool to believe in unstructured summer play as a viable option right here in the busy city?

What to do?
A wave of doubt flickered through me. My intuition guides me that children are curious about nature and the outdoor world from birth but that it is parents' unresolved discomfort with outdoor life that curbs their wonderful enthusiasm. Much like language; it's use your nature literacy or lose it.

The benefits
A summer in nature is an essential restorative for young, school-fatigued minds. Outdoor play is physical without being labeled "fitness." Wildness is full of great material for childhood: risk, reward, imagination, boredom.

My friend has a point ... I mean, I really don't want to burn out on this issue ... what good could come of that?

Take a hike
Deadlines for plans are fast approaching. Let me take the kids out hiking and think on it ...


Related:

• Best bonding activity for families
• The Mother's Day dare
• Coco's weekly meal plan: Kid tested
• ECO-canciousness, even at your house

Are we betting on a "me" in medicine?

Whether we discuss EMRs, online communities, Social Media, or Participatory Medicine, we are betting on the existence of a highly evolved "Me" to emerge in our medicine of the future.

This is the kind of Me that has been educated into prevention, maintenance, and balanced self care. This is the kind of Optimized Me that feels a strong sense of "agency" in the face of uncertainty; which is articulate and full of faith that less anxiety/more comfort is a birthright, even in the face of terrifying, chaotic, and painful illness experiences.

And that's not even mentioning those "ambiguous losses" -- caregiving, grief, aging, and life adjustments -- that impact significantly one's health.

I worry that betting on the existence of an Optimized Me, and building apps around that assumption is not a good bet. It flies in the face of what we know about human behavior. ...

So, as we mull through our notes from #Health2con (follow the stream on Twitter) ... my question to my tribe is: Where do we predict people will be picking up the desired highly evolved sense of self that can optimize the me in medicine? Within the family? The community? School? Is it online? Offline? Or, still TBD? Key question and one that is extraordinarily difficult to answer.

I have a bias. My bias is that some in our population are more uniquely qualified to become authorities on illness. Period. It's ORGANIC. These folks possess the temperament, the abilities, the sensory integration for leadership within the space and we ought to harvest them. Simply put, they are uniquely endowed to hold the mic for us.

These folks usually earn credibility from within, yet they also bring credibility from without to the development of their narratives. This is a very important point as they are "of two worlds."

In the Health 2.0 space, the likely crossovers are survivors who are also writers, technologists, advocates, wonks, or entrepreneurs. They are men, women, old and younger, 1st hand survivors or loved ones of the deceased. They walk significantly different pathways and speak many different languages. Yet, they possess one thing in common: their "Me" is highly evolved, reduced and polished up for the tools and techniques to circumscribe the limits of linear healing.

There are hundreds of these such healing intermediaries, who broker (and transmit) complex narratives in a variety of ways: narrow cast 1:1, broadcast 1:many; real time, on demand, visually, with sound or plain old writing.

While Web and mobile apps proliferate new "stages" for health stories - some that even beat time and geography barriers - the structure of the healing show follows the crowd pleasing, mythic format:

• I was there
• It was frightening
• This is what it felt like
• Here's how I managed
• Take good care
• This is what I learned
• Try to do this, avoid doing that
• Keep in touch

These stories become more riveting and powerful the closer you are to the illness/disease experience. So, the better we become at matching storyteller with audience, the greater the therapeutic value of the SM and Web 2.0 show. Therapy = credibility (earned) + context (delivered or found).

In closing, it takes an exceptionally primed and developmentally advanced "Me" to offer healing to others. There are strong regional as well as cultural issues at work in the creation of credibility within a healing context. Innovation in the Health 2.0 space that fails to account for tribal credibility and preferences for authority will simply not succeed, regardless of platform and marketing dollars backing it.

******************
Several rich and authoritative health testimonial brands with their affiliation:

David deBronkart - kidney cancer, influencing the development of electronic medical records
Regina Holliday - Medical advocate and muralist
Gilles Fryman - E-Patient and Founder of ACOR
Jen McCabe Gorman - Trauma, mental health
Therese Borchard - Living with Bipolar, depression
Hester Hill Schnipper - Coping with breast cancer
Trisha Torrey - Patient safety and preparedness advocacy
Patients Like Me - ALS community

Ted Eytan, MD - Kaiser and Clinnovations
Danny Sands, MD - Cisco and Beth Israel

Add links to expert/survivors/advocates below

For more check out: e-Patients.net

This post's word cloud ...

Shopping for health insurance

Yesterday I was "shopping" for health insurance online. I looked at quotes from 3 companies.

Since we are motivated to buy benefits that insure our family, I am writing this open letter to get clear on a concept that remains unclear to me. You see, I am not a health insurance broker, nor am I a fortune teller. I realize that you want to make money on me, but here is the rub: Life is unpredictable ...

We are healthy. We don't smoke. We promise to pay on time, to do the very best we can with preventive care. We'll get regular exercise, eat lots of fruits and veggies, develop friendships and try keeping our home a safe haven to the best of our ability.

But it may not be enough.

We've all seen people's lives get hurt unexpectedly. We've witnessed how virus visits even the best of us. And then there is all that other stuff that happens ... the really tough stuff that requires lots of expert attention.

As I step through your online quote process, this nagging thought repeats: What happens if we do get sick? Will you abandon us? See, I am shopping for insurance.

I know it's not personal, that you are just taking a "calculated risk" ... but somehow when you know my height, weight, age, and entire medical history it starts to feel personal.

And while you ask for a lot, you reserve the right to give very little ... perhaps just when we may need it most. That feels personal too.

So here's my question: Could you share with me how often/frequently you deny coverage to your insured if they are paying on time?

I am a business person. I like facts. So, I had this idea that if I had a chance to assess your history, I might be able to make a "calculated risk" myself and go with the best company, not the best premium quote. I am shopping for insurance.

See, I am not skilled at predicting the future. We are healthy, but how can a person ever really know what the future holds?

Since we are talking, I have another suggestion. Why don't you insurers give me an incentive to stay close to you and learn from you and your fantastic network of health experts? Seems like a shame to assess me, collect money off me, then hope for the best.

Like parenting, isn't it continuity and engagement that return the highest lifetime value on an investment in people? Seems to me that you could reposition your stance to become "making an investment" in me, not making a gamble on my future prosperity.

We are a good bet, it's true. But now I want to know if you are.

I am shopping for insurance.

More:
Gaining weight is expensive

Who dies: The bully or his victim?

When we suspected that Pip (our 5-month-old Panda Bear hamster) was attacking his same-sex sibling, Squeak, we went on alert and paid closer attention.That's when we noticed a small piece of Squeak's ear was missing (torn or bitten off). A few days later we spotted a mysterious patch of baldness on Squeak's upper back. Finally, we were convinced that Pip was hurting Squeak when a hairless chunk of raw swollen flesh was exposed on his back. Intervention time.

I separated the hamsters. I set up two cages of generally equal size and accommodation. We cleaned Squeak's cut as well as possible and hoped for the best. In truth, I anticipated that Squeak would be dead within days from infection. I even started preparing the kids for that possibility. We cried over the situation and about how sick Squeak was. I felt guilty that I didn't separate them sooner and that now we would lose our meek, nervous hamster due to abuse and harassment by his own sibling.

But a strange thing happened. Within 24 hours, Squeak, the victim, appeared to be resting better than ever. But there was poor Pip, a shadow of his former self; withdrawn, melancholic, not eating, anti social. ...

What a surprise. Pip was always the extrovert and, it turns out, a bully. That's why we were so confused to find him, the Alpha of the brothers, dead just 48 hours after separating them.

What killed Pip? Was it the separation from Squeak itself? Or was it some other odd virus? Who knows, his sickness might have been what caused him to attack in the first place.

We buried Pip in the yard, R.I.P. The whole thing makes me wonder about bullies and what they feel when they lose access to their victims. Meanwhile, Squeak thrives. His wound is almost completely healed. He sleeps well, plays well and eats well. He is nearly 50% larger since we separated him from Pip; his healing has begun.

More pet stories:
Fish hospice and other pet tales that hurt 
The kids want a puppy

Reptilian brain update

Which gets more sympathy, a broken leg or a broken heart? You guessed it ... the broken leg. "When we see someone with a broken leg, we feel his pain instantly. But it takes a bit longer to feel compassion for a broken heart, say researchers from the University of Southern California." (NPR story)

So, now that our "processing" handicap on the feelings side is on record ... what are we going to do to bring balance to the mind-body equation? How can we speed up the processing of complex feelings? Could feelings be the future of our species development? Or have we left the mind behind (temporarily or permanently) for some evolutionary reason?

It's my bias that insight into how we (and others) process (or don't process) feelings is a key component of adult development. Shit happens and knowing how to process it gives you (and your offspring) a key evolutionary advantage. With rates of addiction, anxiety and depression on the rise, I wonder whether better processing of complex feelings holds the key to healing psychic pain ... This is a thought/belief that lots of us share.

It is exciting to envision the comfort a human might receive in that moment when he/she is full of grief and a friend remains confident in her understanding about how to soothe it. She doesn't avoid or skirt or buckle the messiness of the feelings before her. He doesn't turn the complexity of the friend's stress into a Hallmark moment, with "Love, John" scribbled onto the $2 card.

What about you? Do you think feelings like grief might heal faster if we had a bit of mastery to offer one another? Might we be able to elicit healing and help "birth" feelings the way we "birth" athletic achievements in our communities?

The mind has a powerful influence over the body. If the system discourages processing complex feelings (it does) then we fail to learn how to master the flow and surge of emotion as it unfolds within us. This is a major loss of potent intelligence. ...