Brian Harte, MD, SFHM

Hospitals and health systems are increasingly looking to physicians to provide leadership at the most senior executive level. While the chief medical officer (CMO) or similar role has given physicians a seat at the executive table at many organizations, physicians are also being sought for the CEO role at the head of that table.

A commonly referenced study from 2011 by Amanda Goodall, MD, in Social Science & Medicine concluded that, among a cohort of highly ranked hospitals, overall quality metrics were approximately 25% higher in hospitals where a physician was CEO, in comparison to hospitals with non-physician CEOs (2011 Aug;73[4]:535-9). In addition, new positions at both the hospital and health system level are coming into existence: Examples include chief (or VP) of population health, chief innovation officer, chief quality officer, chief patient experience officer, and others.

There is every reason to think that these senior executive physician roles can – and in many cases perhaps should – be filled by hospitalists. Hospital medicine is an ideal “proving ground” for future physician executives and leaders. I believe that the best practitioners of hospital medicine are also the best candidates for hospital, health care, and health system physician executive leadership, because many of the characteristics essential for success as an executive are the same characteristics that are essential for success as a hospitalist. Strong candidates should have the following characteristics:

• A patient-centered perspective. Perhaps the most important characteristic of a leader is empathy. To appreciate the complex, and often (if not usual) challenging emotional states of our patients keeps us connected at the most fundamental, human level to the work we do and to our patients and families. Empathy can – and should – extend to fellow caregivers as well, and allows us to practice and lead teams in the most human of professions. No leader – in health care, anyway – can last long without being able to demonstrate empathy, through words and behavior.
• A systems-based practice: A hospitalist must be able to have a foot in each of two canoes – to be able to see each patient and their family individually and develop preference-based plans of care, and also to be able to focus on process, structure, and outcomes for the hospital system as a whole. The former trait is imbued in us during training and is the critical foundation for the patient-physician relationship. The latter, however, is something different entirely and reflects an ability to have perspective on the entire ecosystem of care – and apply principles of process and quality improvement to achieve forward looking results. That’s leadership.
• Team leadership: Another fundamental attribute of leaders is to assemble a talented and diverse team around an objective, and then to delegate both tasks and their ownership, deferring to expertise. Hospitalists – the best ones, anyway – similarly recognize that for the vast majority of a patient’s hospital stay, the most important caregiver in a patient’s care is someone other than themselves. At any given time, it might be the nurse, aide, pharmacist, care manager, transporter, radiology tech, urologist, housekeeper, surgical resident, or anyone involved in that patient’s care. The hospitalist’s greatest value is in developing the plan of care with the patient and their family, and then communicating – and therefore delegating – that plan to individuals with the expertise to execute that plan. I believe the biggest difficulty hospitalists have in assuming leadership roles is getting out of the comfortable weeds of daily clinical operations and instead focusing on goals, strategies, and teams to accomplish them. The best hospitalists are doing this already as part of their daily care.
• The ability to manage relationships: Hospitalists manage and work among a team of diverse talents. They also often have accountability relationships to a myriad of clinical and administrative leaders in the hospital, each of whom may be in a position of authority to place demands on the hospitalists: A partial list might include the CEO, the chief medical officer, chief nurse, chief of staff, other medical staff departments, academic leaders, and of course, patients and their families. Functioning in a “matrixed” organization – in which lines of authority can go in many directions, depending on the situation – is standard fare, even at the executive level, and the key competency is open and frequent communication.
• Experience: Already, hospitalists assume leadership roles in their hospitals – leaders in quality, medical informatics, patient experience, and continuous improvement. In these roles, physicians work with senior executives and other hospital leaders to both set goals and implement strategies, providing visibility and working relationships that can be helpful to aspiring leaders.

Perhaps more so than most other specialties, then, hospitalists demonstrate foundational leadership skills in their day-to-day practice – an ideal start to a leadership path. This is not to say or suggest that a career devoted purely to clinical practice is somehow inferior – far from it. However, as health care organizations turn to the medical community to provider leadership, hospitalists are well positioned to develop and be developed as executive leaders.

How can the Society of Hospital Medicine help? While management degrees become a common pathway for many, some health systems and professional organizations support their membership with a leadership development curriculum which may be a better place to start. In my opinion, SHM provides one of the most thorough and relevant experiences available. The SHM Leadership Academy focuses on developing a broad set of additional leadership competencies across a spectrum of experience. The format varies depending on the course, but all rely heavily upon experienced hospitalist leaders – in fact, many current and former Board members and officers volunteer their time to facilitate and teach at the Academy, including at the entry level. It’s a powerful way to learn from others who have started walking the leadership path.
 

Dr. Harte is a past president of SHM and president of Cleveland Clinic Akron General and Southern Region.

Hospitals and health systems are increasingly looking to physicians to provide leadership at the most senior executive level. While the chief medical officer (CMO) or similar role has given physicians a seat at the executive table at many organizations, physicians are also being sought for the CEO role at the head of that table.

A commonly referenced study from 2011 by Amanda Goodall, MD, in Social Science & Medicine concluded that, among a cohort of highly ranked hospitals, overall quality metrics were approximately 25% higher in hospitals where a physician was CEO, in comparison to hospitals with non-physician CEOs (2011 Aug;73[4]:535-9). In addition, new positions at both the hospital and health system level are coming into existence: Examples include chief (or VP) of population health, chief innovation officer, chief quality officer, chief patient experience officer, and others.

There is every reason to think that these senior executive physician roles can – and in many cases perhaps should – be filled by hospitalists. Hospital medicine is an ideal “proving ground” for future physician executives and leaders. I believe that the best practitioners of hospital medicine are also the best candidates for hospital, health care, and health system physician executive leadership, because many of the characteristics essential for success as an executive are the same characteristics that are essential for success as a hospitalist. Strong candidates should have the following characteristics:

• A patient-centered perspective. Perhaps the most important characteristic of a leader is empathy. To appreciate the complex, and often (if not usual) challenging emotional states of our patients keeps us connected at the most fundamental, human level to the work we do and to our patients and families. Empathy can – and should – extend to fellow caregivers as well, and allows us to practice and lead teams in the most human of professions. No leader – in health care, anyway – can last long without being able to demonstrate empathy, through words and behavior.
• A systems-based practice: A hospitalist must be able to have a foot in each of two canoes – to be able to see each patient and their family individually and develop preference-based plans of care, and also to be able to focus on process, structure, and outcomes for the hospital system as a whole. The former trait is imbued in us during training and is the critical foundation for the patient-physician relationship. The latter, however, is something different entirely and reflects an ability to have perspective on the entire ecosystem of care – and apply principles of process and quality improvement to achieve forward looking results. That’s leadership.
• Team leadership: Another fundamental attribute of leaders is to assemble a talented and diverse team around an objective, and then to delegate both tasks and their ownership, deferring to expertise. Hospitalists – the best ones, anyway – similarly recognize that for the vast majority of a patient’s hospital stay, the most important caregiver in a patient’s care is someone other than themselves. At any given time, it might be the nurse, aide, pharmacist, care manager, transporter, radiology tech, urologist, housekeeper, surgical resident, or anyone involved in that patient’s care. The hospitalist’s greatest value is in developing the plan of care with the patient and their family, and then communicating – and therefore delegating – that plan to individuals with the expertise to execute that plan. I believe the biggest difficulty hospitalists have in assuming leadership roles is getting out of the comfortable weeds of daily clinical operations and instead focusing on goals, strategies, and teams to accomplish them. The best hospitalists are doing this already as part of their daily care.
• The ability to manage relationships: Hospitalists manage and work among a team of diverse talents. They also often have accountability relationships to a myriad of clinical and administrative leaders in the hospital, each of whom may be in a position of authority to place demands on the hospitalists: A partial list might include the CEO, the chief medical officer, chief nurse, chief of staff, other medical staff departments, academic leaders, and of course, patients and their families. Functioning in a “matrixed” organization – in which lines of authority can go in many directions, depending on the situation – is standard fare, even at the executive level, and the key competency is open and frequent communication.
• Experience: Already, hospitalists assume leadership roles in their hospitals – leaders in quality, medical informatics, patient experience, and continuous improvement. In these roles, physicians work with senior executives and other hospital leaders to both set goals and implement strategies, providing visibility and working relationships that can be helpful to aspiring leaders.

Perhaps more so than most other specialties, then, hospitalists demonstrate foundational leadership skills in their day-to-day practice – an ideal start to a leadership path. This is not to say or suggest that a career devoted purely to clinical practice is somehow inferior – far from it. However, as health care organizations turn to the medical community to provider leadership, hospitalists are well positioned to develop and be developed as executive leaders.

How can the Society of Hospital Medicine help? While management degrees become a common pathway for many, some health systems and professional organizations support their membership with a leadership development curriculum which may be a better place to start. In my opinion, SHM provides one of the most thorough and relevant experiences available. The SHM Leadership Academy focuses on developing a broad set of additional leadership competencies across a spectrum of experience. The format varies depending on the course, but all rely heavily upon experienced hospitalist leaders – in fact, many current and former Board members and officers volunteer their time to facilitate and teach at the Academy, including at the entry level. It’s a powerful way to learn from others who have started walking the leadership path.
 

Dr. Harte is a past president of SHM and president of Cleveland Clinic Akron General and Southern Region.

Hospitals and health systems are increasingly looking to physicians to provide leadership at the most senior executive level. While the chief medical officer (CMO) or similar role has given physicians a seat at the executive table at many organizations, physicians are also being sought for the CEO role at the head of that table.

A commonly referenced study from 2011 by Amanda Goodall, MD, in Social Science & Medicine concluded that, among a cohort of highly ranked hospitals, overall quality metrics were approximately 25% higher in hospitals where a physician was CEO, in comparison to hospitals with non-physician CEOs (2011 Aug;73[4]:535-9). In addition, new positions at both the hospital and health system level are coming into existence: Examples include chief (or VP) of population health, chief innovation officer, chief quality officer, chief patient experience officer, and others.

There is every reason to think that these senior executive physician roles can – and in many cases perhaps should – be filled by hospitalists. Hospital medicine is an ideal “proving ground” for future physician executives and leaders. I believe that the best practitioners of hospital medicine are also the best candidates for hospital, health care, and health system physician executive leadership, because many of the characteristics essential for success as an executive are the same characteristics that are essential for success as a hospitalist. Strong candidates should have the following characteristics:

• A patient-centered perspective. Perhaps the most important characteristic of a leader is empathy. To appreciate the complex, and often (if not usual) challenging emotional states of our patients keeps us connected at the most fundamental, human level to the work we do and to our patients and families. Empathy can – and should – extend to fellow caregivers as well, and allows us to practice and lead teams in the most human of professions. No leader – in health care, anyway – can last long without being able to demonstrate empathy, through words and behavior.
• A systems-based practice: A hospitalist must be able to have a foot in each of two canoes – to be able to see each patient and their family individually and develop preference-based plans of care, and also to be able to focus on process, structure, and outcomes for the hospital system as a whole. The former trait is imbued in us during training and is the critical foundation for the patient-physician relationship. The latter, however, is something different entirely and reflects an ability to have perspective on the entire ecosystem of care – and apply principles of process and quality improvement to achieve forward looking results. That’s leadership.
• Team leadership: Another fundamental attribute of leaders is to assemble a talented and diverse team around an objective, and then to delegate both tasks and their ownership, deferring to expertise. Hospitalists – the best ones, anyway – similarly recognize that for the vast majority of a patient’s hospital stay, the most important caregiver in a patient’s care is someone other than themselves. At any given time, it might be the nurse, aide, pharmacist, care manager, transporter, radiology tech, urologist, housekeeper, surgical resident, or anyone involved in that patient’s care. The hospitalist’s greatest value is in developing the plan of care with the patient and their family, and then communicating – and therefore delegating – that plan to individuals with the expertise to execute that plan. I believe the biggest difficulty hospitalists have in assuming leadership roles is getting out of the comfortable weeds of daily clinical operations and instead focusing on goals, strategies, and teams to accomplish them. The best hospitalists are doing this already as part of their daily care.
• The ability to manage relationships: Hospitalists manage and work among a team of diverse talents. They also often have accountability relationships to a myriad of clinical and administrative leaders in the hospital, each of whom may be in a position of authority to place demands on the hospitalists: A partial list might include the CEO, the chief medical officer, chief nurse, chief of staff, other medical staff departments, academic leaders, and of course, patients and their families. Functioning in a “matrixed” organization – in which lines of authority can go in many directions, depending on the situation – is standard fare, even at the executive level, and the key competency is open and frequent communication.
• Experience: Already, hospitalists assume leadership roles in their hospitals – leaders in quality, medical informatics, patient experience, and continuous improvement. In these roles, physicians work with senior executives and other hospital leaders to both set goals and implement strategies, providing visibility and working relationships that can be helpful to aspiring leaders.

Perhaps more so than most other specialties, then, hospitalists demonstrate foundational leadership skills in their day-to-day practice – an ideal start to a leadership path. This is not to say or suggest that a career devoted purely to clinical practice is somehow inferior – far from it. However, as health care organizations turn to the medical community to provider leadership, hospitalists are well positioned to develop and be developed as executive leaders.

How can the Society of Hospital Medicine help? While management degrees become a common pathway for many, some health systems and professional organizations support their membership with a leadership development curriculum which may be a better place to start. In my opinion, SHM provides one of the most thorough and relevant experiences available. The SHM Leadership Academy focuses on developing a broad set of additional leadership competencies across a spectrum of experience. The format varies depending on the course, but all rely heavily upon experienced hospitalist leaders – in fact, many current and former Board members and officers volunteer their time to facilitate and teach at the Academy, including at the entry level. It’s a powerful way to learn from others who have started walking the leadership path.
 

Dr. Harte is a past president of SHM and president of Cleveland Clinic Akron General and Southern Region.

By the time this column is published, we will have wrapped up Hospital Medicine 2018 in Orlando, it will be well into spring, and I will have completed my year as past president as well as my 6-year tenure on the Society of Hospital Medicine board of directors.

I can imagine that will feel like a relief and a milestone, and it also will feel like a loss to no longer be part of something that I have contributed my time, energy, passion, and emotion to for so long. I will retire at the ripe age of 48 – a pretty typical age for ending SHM board tenure, and it’s terribly important for SHM that I do so.

Dr. Harte is a past president of SHM and president of Cleveland Clinic Akron General and Southern Region.

By the time this column is published, we will have wrapped up Hospital Medicine 2018 in Orlando, it will be well into spring, and I will have completed my year as past president as well as my 6-year tenure on the Society of Hospital Medicine board of directors.

I can imagine that will feel like a relief and a milestone, and it also will feel like a loss to no longer be part of something that I have contributed my time, energy, passion, and emotion to for so long. I will retire at the ripe age of 48 – a pretty typical age for ending SHM board tenure, and it’s terribly important for SHM that I do so.

Dr. Harte is a past president of SHM and president of Cleveland Clinic Akron General and Southern Region.

By the time this column is published, we will have wrapped up Hospital Medicine 2018 in Orlando, it will be well into spring, and I will have completed my year as past president as well as my 6-year tenure on the Society of Hospital Medicine board of directors.

I can imagine that will feel like a relief and a milestone, and it also will feel like a loss to no longer be part of something that I have contributed my time, energy, passion, and emotion to for so long. I will retire at the ripe age of 48 – a pretty typical age for ending SHM board tenure, and it’s terribly important for SHM that I do so.

Dr. Harte is a past president of SHM and president of Cleveland Clinic Akron General and Southern Region.

Day 1 has already raised the bar for the SHM Annual Meeting. Day 2, Wednesday, will set a whole new standard with courses, speakers, content, and perspective.

Leading off the day will be the presentation of the best of Research and Innovations. This year, we had hundreds of submissions, and the kickoff of Day 2 will showcase the very best of the best! Following immediately, we will recognize the winners of the SHM Awards of Excellence.

Dr. Harte is outgoing president of SHM and president of Cleveland Clinic Akron General and Southern Region.

Day 1 has already raised the bar for the SHM Annual Meeting. Day 2, Wednesday, will set a whole new standard with courses, speakers, content, and perspective.

Leading off the day will be the presentation of the best of Research and Innovations. This year, we had hundreds of submissions, and the kickoff of Day 2 will showcase the very best of the best! Following immediately, we will recognize the winners of the SHM Awards of Excellence.

Dr. Harte is outgoing president of SHM and president of Cleveland Clinic Akron General and Southern Region.

Day 1 has already raised the bar for the SHM Annual Meeting. Day 2, Wednesday, will set a whole new standard with courses, speakers, content, and perspective.

Leading off the day will be the presentation of the best of Research and Innovations. This year, we had hundreds of submissions, and the kickoff of Day 2 will showcase the very best of the best! Following immediately, we will recognize the winners of the SHM Awards of Excellence.

Dr. Harte is outgoing president of SHM and president of Cleveland Clinic Akron General and Southern Region.

We work in complex environments and in a flawed and rapidly changing health care system. Caregivers, patients, and communities will be led through this complexity by those who embrace change. Last October, I had the privilege of attending and facilitating the SHM Leadership Academy in Orlando, which allowed me the opportunity to meet a group of people who embrace change, including the benefits and challenges that often accompany it.

SHM board member Jeff Glasheen, MD, SFHM, taught one of the first lessons at Leadership Academy, focusing on the importance of meaningful, difficult change. With comparisons to companies that have embraced change, like Apple, and some that have not, like Sears, Jeff summed up how complacency with “good” and a reluctance to tackle the difficulty of change keeps organizations – and people – from becoming great.

“Good is the enemy of great,” Jeff preached.

He largely focused on hospitalists leading organizational change, but the concepts can apply to personal change, too. He explained that “people generally want things to be different, but they don’t want to change.”

Leaders in training

Ten emerging hospitalist leaders sat at my table, soaking in the message. Several of them, like me 8 years ago, had the responsibilities of leadership unexpectedly thrust upon them. Some carried with them the heavy expectations of their colleagues or hospital administration (or both) that by being elevated into a role such as medical director, they would abruptly be able to make improvements in patient care and hospital operations. They had accepted the challenge to change – to move out of purely clinical roles and take on new ones in leadership despite having little or no experience. Doing so, they gingerly but willingly were following in the footsteps of leaders before them, growing their skills, improving their hospitals, and laying a path for future leaders to follow.

A few weeks prior, I had taken a new leadership position myself. The Cleveland Clinic recently acquired a hospital and health system in Akron, Ohio, about 40 miles away from the city. I assumed the role of president of this acquisition, embracing the complex challenge of leading the process of integrating two health systems. After 3 years overseeing a different hospital in the health system, I finally felt I had developed the people, processes, and culture that I had been striving to build. But like the young leaders at Leadership Academy, I had the opportunity to change, grow, develop, take on new risk, and become a stronger leader in this new role. A significant part of the experience of the Leadership Academy involves table exercises. For the first few exercises, the group was quiet, uncertain, tentative. I was struck both by how early these individuals were in their development and by how so much of what is happening today in hospitals and health care is dependent upon the development and success of individuals like these who are enthusiastic and talented but young and overwhelmed.

I believe that successful hospitalists are, through experience, training, and nature, rapid assimilators into their environments. By the third day, the dynamic at my table had gone from tentative and uncertain to much more confident and assertive. To experience this transformation in person at SHM’s Leadership Academy, we welcome you to Scottsdale, Ariz., later this year. Learn more about the program at www.shmleadershipacademy.org.

At Leadership Academy and beyond, I implore hospitalists to look for opportunities to change during this time of New Year’s resolutions and to take the opposite posture and want to change – change how we think, act, and respond; change our roles to take on new, uncomfortable responsibilities; and change how we view change itself.

We will be better for it both personally and professionally, and we will stand out as role models for our colleagues, coworkers, and hospitalists who follow in our footsteps.

Dr. Harte is a practicing hospitalist, president of the Society of Hospital Medicine, and president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Cleveland Clinic, Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland.

We work in complex environments and in a flawed and rapidly changing health care system. Caregivers, patients, and communities will be led through this complexity by those who embrace change. Last October, I had the privilege of attending and facilitating the SHM Leadership Academy in Orlando, which allowed me the opportunity to meet a group of people who embrace change, including the benefits and challenges that often accompany it.

SHM board member Jeff Glasheen, MD, SFHM, taught one of the first lessons at Leadership Academy, focusing on the importance of meaningful, difficult change. With comparisons to companies that have embraced change, like Apple, and some that have not, like Sears, Jeff summed up how complacency with “good” and a reluctance to tackle the difficulty of change keeps organizations – and people – from becoming great.

“Good is the enemy of great,” Jeff preached.

He largely focused on hospitalists leading organizational change, but the concepts can apply to personal change, too. He explained that “people generally want things to be different, but they don’t want to change.”

Leaders in training

Ten emerging hospitalist leaders sat at my table, soaking in the message. Several of them, like me 8 years ago, had the responsibilities of leadership unexpectedly thrust upon them. Some carried with them the heavy expectations of their colleagues or hospital administration (or both) that by being elevated into a role such as medical director, they would abruptly be able to make improvements in patient care and hospital operations. They had accepted the challenge to change – to move out of purely clinical roles and take on new ones in leadership despite having little or no experience. Doing so, they gingerly but willingly were following in the footsteps of leaders before them, growing their skills, improving their hospitals, and laying a path for future leaders to follow.

A few weeks prior, I had taken a new leadership position myself. The Cleveland Clinic recently acquired a hospital and health system in Akron, Ohio, about 40 miles away from the city. I assumed the role of president of this acquisition, embracing the complex challenge of leading the process of integrating two health systems. After 3 years overseeing a different hospital in the health system, I finally felt I had developed the people, processes, and culture that I had been striving to build. But like the young leaders at Leadership Academy, I had the opportunity to change, grow, develop, take on new risk, and become a stronger leader in this new role. A significant part of the experience of the Leadership Academy involves table exercises. For the first few exercises, the group was quiet, uncertain, tentative. I was struck both by how early these individuals were in their development and by how so much of what is happening today in hospitals and health care is dependent upon the development and success of individuals like these who are enthusiastic and talented but young and overwhelmed.

I believe that successful hospitalists are, through experience, training, and nature, rapid assimilators into their environments. By the third day, the dynamic at my table had gone from tentative and uncertain to much more confident and assertive. To experience this transformation in person at SHM’s Leadership Academy, we welcome you to Scottsdale, Ariz., later this year. Learn more about the program at www.shmleadershipacademy.org.

At Leadership Academy and beyond, I implore hospitalists to look for opportunities to change during this time of New Year’s resolutions and to take the opposite posture and want to change – change how we think, act, and respond; change our roles to take on new, uncomfortable responsibilities; and change how we view change itself.

We will be better for it both personally and professionally, and we will stand out as role models for our colleagues, coworkers, and hospitalists who follow in our footsteps.

Dr. Harte is a practicing hospitalist, president of the Society of Hospital Medicine, and president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Cleveland Clinic, Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland.

We work in complex environments and in a flawed and rapidly changing health care system. Caregivers, patients, and communities will be led through this complexity by those who embrace change. Last October, I had the privilege of attending and facilitating the SHM Leadership Academy in Orlando, which allowed me the opportunity to meet a group of people who embrace change, including the benefits and challenges that often accompany it.

SHM board member Jeff Glasheen, MD, SFHM, taught one of the first lessons at Leadership Academy, focusing on the importance of meaningful, difficult change. With comparisons to companies that have embraced change, like Apple, and some that have not, like Sears, Jeff summed up how complacency with “good” and a reluctance to tackle the difficulty of change keeps organizations – and people – from becoming great.

“Good is the enemy of great,” Jeff preached.

He largely focused on hospitalists leading organizational change, but the concepts can apply to personal change, too. He explained that “people generally want things to be different, but they don’t want to change.”

Leaders in training

Ten emerging hospitalist leaders sat at my table, soaking in the message. Several of them, like me 8 years ago, had the responsibilities of leadership unexpectedly thrust upon them. Some carried with them the heavy expectations of their colleagues or hospital administration (or both) that by being elevated into a role such as medical director, they would abruptly be able to make improvements in patient care and hospital operations. They had accepted the challenge to change – to move out of purely clinical roles and take on new ones in leadership despite having little or no experience. Doing so, they gingerly but willingly were following in the footsteps of leaders before them, growing their skills, improving their hospitals, and laying a path for future leaders to follow.

A few weeks prior, I had taken a new leadership position myself. The Cleveland Clinic recently acquired a hospital and health system in Akron, Ohio, about 40 miles away from the city. I assumed the role of president of this acquisition, embracing the complex challenge of leading the process of integrating two health systems. After 3 years overseeing a different hospital in the health system, I finally felt I had developed the people, processes, and culture that I had been striving to build. But like the young leaders at Leadership Academy, I had the opportunity to change, grow, develop, take on new risk, and become a stronger leader in this new role. A significant part of the experience of the Leadership Academy involves table exercises. For the first few exercises, the group was quiet, uncertain, tentative. I was struck both by how early these individuals were in their development and by how so much of what is happening today in hospitals and health care is dependent upon the development and success of individuals like these who are enthusiastic and talented but young and overwhelmed.

I believe that successful hospitalists are, through experience, training, and nature, rapid assimilators into their environments. By the third day, the dynamic at my table had gone from tentative and uncertain to much more confident and assertive. To experience this transformation in person at SHM’s Leadership Academy, we welcome you to Scottsdale, Ariz., later this year. Learn more about the program at www.shmleadershipacademy.org.

At Leadership Academy and beyond, I implore hospitalists to look for opportunities to change during this time of New Year’s resolutions and to take the opposite posture and want to change – change how we think, act, and respond; change our roles to take on new, uncomfortable responsibilities; and change how we view change itself.

We will be better for it both personally and professionally, and we will stand out as role models for our colleagues, coworkers, and hospitalists who follow in our footsteps.

Dr. Harte is a practicing hospitalist, president of the Society of Hospital Medicine, and president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Cleveland Clinic, Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland.

It’s July, the month that marks the annual rite of passage for both newly minted physicians starting their internships and somewhat-less-fresh trainees completing their residencies and moving on to the next stage of their professional journey. I would imagine that many of you, like me, spend at least a fleeting moment this time of year thinking back to your first days as interns and, hopefully, extend at least a little empathy to those anxious souls who are being called upon to serve as “doctors” for the very first time.

When I reflect a little further, I am also reminded of the immense power and influence of role models over the course of our training. Although internal medicine was certainly interesting to me, even during medical school, I will candidly also say that the residents and attendings who I served with on teams during medical school at the University of Pennsylvania had at least as much if not more to do with my choice to match in internal medicine. I remember many of their names to this day. While I am not in touch with them, I will always be grateful for the way they demonstrated enthusiasm for medicine; compassion for their patients; partnership with nurses, therapists, and the many other members of our teams; and a genuine love for teaching and conveying a sense of mission in what they did.

I had many great teachers in other areas (particularly, I have to admit, surgery, where some of us students were so enamored of the clinical clerkship director that we memorialized him in a sendup of Forrest Gump in our annual comedy show). However, the consistency of this enthusiasm in the medicine teams was incomparable. In short, these were physicians who I wanted to be like, to emulate. They were role models.

Likewise, during residency, it was those attendings who were among the earliest of academic hospitalists who demonstrated those same skills. I will always remember an encounter with one of my chief residents at the Veterans Affairs early in my internship, when I was struggling with a particular issue. Perhaps it was a foreshadowing of my ultimate career choice, but I was disappointed with my ambulatory clinic experience. As a chief resident, he could have dismissed my frustration or told me to suck it up. He didn’t. He empathized, acknowledging my exasperation and assuring me that I wasn’t alone in how I felt. He also helped me frame the experience to find positive learning aspects—after all, it wasn’t a problem he could just fix and make go away.

Most important, he listened and didn’t judge.

Long before we started thinking of empathy as a teachable communication skill, I experienced it firsthand, and it turned my entire experience around. To this day, I try to emulate that empathy when frustrated physicians or employees come to me with issues.

As hospitalists and physicians, the spotlight is on us almost every minute of every day. We are watched (yes, we are judged) all the time by nurses, pharmacists, case managers, and our patients to see if we live the values of teamwork, collaboration, and emotional intelligence that we claim to embody as system thinkers and system reformers.

But no one watches us more closely than those who we are charged with training. From the very earliest medical student to the most seasoned resident and fellow, how we act is how they will act. When we demonstrate that the bar is highest for us in terms of professionalism, collegiality, and empathy, we imprint upon our trainees those same behaviors and the values that they reflect.

We also show trainees a way of practicing medicine that has the ability to be profoundly satisfying to not only ourselves but also to those who collaborate with us and the patients who benefit from that teamwork. And, hopefully, by doing so we are guiding students, interns, and residents to become hospitalists like us.

So, this July, I call upon all of us in the hospitalist teaching community to reach out and welcome the new trainees in your institution and to remember what it was like to be where they are now. Appreciate the profound impact that you have on them by not only the medicine you teach but the way you practice and communicate and your body language and attitude.

As we think about the continuous need to focus on building up the pipeline of future hospital-based practitioners, there is no better way to develop that bench strength than by using our presence as role models to positively influence our new trainees.

Happy July, everyone! TH

It’s July, the month that marks the annual rite of passage for both newly minted physicians starting their internships and somewhat-less-fresh trainees completing their residencies and moving on to the next stage of their professional journey. I would imagine that many of you, like me, spend at least a fleeting moment this time of year thinking back to your first days as interns and, hopefully, extend at least a little empathy to those anxious souls who are being called upon to serve as “doctors” for the very first time.

When I reflect a little further, I am also reminded of the immense power and influence of role models over the course of our training. Although internal medicine was certainly interesting to me, even during medical school, I will candidly also say that the residents and attendings who I served with on teams during medical school at the University of Pennsylvania had at least as much if not more to do with my choice to match in internal medicine. I remember many of their names to this day. While I am not in touch with them, I will always be grateful for the way they demonstrated enthusiasm for medicine; compassion for their patients; partnership with nurses, therapists, and the many other members of our teams; and a genuine love for teaching and conveying a sense of mission in what they did.

I had many great teachers in other areas (particularly, I have to admit, surgery, where some of us students were so enamored of the clinical clerkship director that we memorialized him in a sendup of Forrest Gump in our annual comedy show). However, the consistency of this enthusiasm in the medicine teams was incomparable. In short, these were physicians who I wanted to be like, to emulate. They were role models.

Likewise, during residency, it was those attendings who were among the earliest of academic hospitalists who demonstrated those same skills. I will always remember an encounter with one of my chief residents at the Veterans Affairs early in my internship, when I was struggling with a particular issue. Perhaps it was a foreshadowing of my ultimate career choice, but I was disappointed with my ambulatory clinic experience. As a chief resident, he could have dismissed my frustration or told me to suck it up. He didn’t. He empathized, acknowledging my exasperation and assuring me that I wasn’t alone in how I felt. He also helped me frame the experience to find positive learning aspects—after all, it wasn’t a problem he could just fix and make go away.

Most important, he listened and didn’t judge.

Long before we started thinking of empathy as a teachable communication skill, I experienced it firsthand, and it turned my entire experience around. To this day, I try to emulate that empathy when frustrated physicians or employees come to me with issues.

As hospitalists and physicians, the spotlight is on us almost every minute of every day. We are watched (yes, we are judged) all the time by nurses, pharmacists, case managers, and our patients to see if we live the values of teamwork, collaboration, and emotional intelligence that we claim to embody as system thinkers and system reformers.

But no one watches us more closely than those who we are charged with training. From the very earliest medical student to the most seasoned resident and fellow, how we act is how they will act. When we demonstrate that the bar is highest for us in terms of professionalism, collegiality, and empathy, we imprint upon our trainees those same behaviors and the values that they reflect.

We also show trainees a way of practicing medicine that has the ability to be profoundly satisfying to not only ourselves but also to those who collaborate with us and the patients who benefit from that teamwork. And, hopefully, by doing so we are guiding students, interns, and residents to become hospitalists like us.

So, this July, I call upon all of us in the hospitalist teaching community to reach out and welcome the new trainees in your institution and to remember what it was like to be where they are now. Appreciate the profound impact that you have on them by not only the medicine you teach but the way you practice and communicate and your body language and attitude.

As we think about the continuous need to focus on building up the pipeline of future hospital-based practitioners, there is no better way to develop that bench strength than by using our presence as role models to positively influence our new trainees.

Happy July, everyone! TH

It’s July, the month that marks the annual rite of passage for both newly minted physicians starting their internships and somewhat-less-fresh trainees completing their residencies and moving on to the next stage of their professional journey. I would imagine that many of you, like me, spend at least a fleeting moment this time of year thinking back to your first days as interns and, hopefully, extend at least a little empathy to those anxious souls who are being called upon to serve as “doctors” for the very first time.

When I reflect a little further, I am also reminded of the immense power and influence of role models over the course of our training. Although internal medicine was certainly interesting to me, even during medical school, I will candidly also say that the residents and attendings who I served with on teams during medical school at the University of Pennsylvania had at least as much if not more to do with my choice to match in internal medicine. I remember many of their names to this day. While I am not in touch with them, I will always be grateful for the way they demonstrated enthusiasm for medicine; compassion for their patients; partnership with nurses, therapists, and the many other members of our teams; and a genuine love for teaching and conveying a sense of mission in what they did.

I had many great teachers in other areas (particularly, I have to admit, surgery, where some of us students were so enamored of the clinical clerkship director that we memorialized him in a sendup of Forrest Gump in our annual comedy show). However, the consistency of this enthusiasm in the medicine teams was incomparable. In short, these were physicians who I wanted to be like, to emulate. They were role models.

Likewise, during residency, it was those attendings who were among the earliest of academic hospitalists who demonstrated those same skills. I will always remember an encounter with one of my chief residents at the Veterans Affairs early in my internship, when I was struggling with a particular issue. Perhaps it was a foreshadowing of my ultimate career choice, but I was disappointed with my ambulatory clinic experience. As a chief resident, he could have dismissed my frustration or told me to suck it up. He didn’t. He empathized, acknowledging my exasperation and assuring me that I wasn’t alone in how I felt. He also helped me frame the experience to find positive learning aspects—after all, it wasn’t a problem he could just fix and make go away.

Most important, he listened and didn’t judge.

Long before we started thinking of empathy as a teachable communication skill, I experienced it firsthand, and it turned my entire experience around. To this day, I try to emulate that empathy when frustrated physicians or employees come to me with issues.

As hospitalists and physicians, the spotlight is on us almost every minute of every day. We are watched (yes, we are judged) all the time by nurses, pharmacists, case managers, and our patients to see if we live the values of teamwork, collaboration, and emotional intelligence that we claim to embody as system thinkers and system reformers.

But no one watches us more closely than those who we are charged with training. From the very earliest medical student to the most seasoned resident and fellow, how we act is how they will act. When we demonstrate that the bar is highest for us in terms of professionalism, collegiality, and empathy, we imprint upon our trainees those same behaviors and the values that they reflect.

We also show trainees a way of practicing medicine that has the ability to be profoundly satisfying to not only ourselves but also to those who collaborate with us and the patients who benefit from that teamwork. And, hopefully, by doing so we are guiding students, interns, and residents to become hospitalists like us.

So, this July, I call upon all of us in the hospitalist teaching community to reach out and welcome the new trainees in your institution and to remember what it was like to be where they are now. Appreciate the profound impact that you have on them by not only the medicine you teach but the way you practice and communicate and your body language and attitude.

As we think about the continuous need to focus on building up the pipeline of future hospital-based practitioners, there is no better way to develop that bench strength than by using our presence as role models to positively influence our new trainees.

Happy July, everyone! TH

I believe there is no better field than hospital medicine to find your career path, and there’s no better organization than SHM to support you as you follow that path. My path is probably similar to most, a little unplanned and a little unexpected, but I am sure each member has their story. Hospital medicine made an early impact on me during an internship where I was exposed to physician role models with terrific leadership skills. They were blazing trails by challenging long-held beliefs about the care of hospitalized patients.

The term “hospitalist” had not yet quite penetrated national consciousness, but Dr. Bob Wachter and Dr. Lee Goldman had already started implementing the model at the University of California, San Francisco, where I was privileged to be an intern during an exciting time. There, I learned directly from some of the individuals who would quickly become pioneers in hospital medicine, influencing a generation of physicians by putting definition and structure around the concept of a hospitalist.

During residency, I saw these hospitalists demonstrate key leadership attributes that distinguished from other physicians. They had an appreciation for the team, a collaborative approach, and an ability to understand the complexity of coordinating acute care. They led from the front, not from behind the lines. So it was no wonder that so many of my colleagues gravitated toward this new field.

After residency, my first job was at a community hospital in Marin, Calif., where a new hospitalist program had started just a year or two earlier. The same collaborative skills that created better patient care with nurses, pharmacists, and the medical staff were positively reinforced and recognized. I got married and had my first child, and my path took a turn east to the Cleveland Clinic. Now back in the academic world and after two more children, that path for me turned in highly unexpected ways—as a department chair, then as medical director for data and analytics, then briefly overseeing population health, and now as head of a hospital in the Cleveland Clinic system.

Stories like mine are not at all extraordinary. At HM16 in San Diego, I heard stories of hospitalists ascendant in their organizations, being given incredible responsibilities and a long rope. The day-to-day work we have done as hospitalists has been our training for all these roles. This daily practice demands a level of growth, development, and exposure that no other specialty requires. There is no better environment to learn about leadership, teaching, and complex systems than perhaps the most complex system of all—the hospital. In this environment, we have innumerable opportunities to find, pick, and create our own paths to improve our healthcare system at every level from the bedside to the top of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS).

Hospital medicine puts so many components and challenges of healthcare in our daily practice: complex team problem-solving; relationships up, down, and across a hierarchy; IT; education; process improvement; ethics; medical staff politics. The successful hospitalist, by definition, has to be able to learn and attain mastery across a broad set of knowledge and skills. We have become naturals in a world of "matrixes management" because it is how we live our lives every day. This is why when our medical staffs and administration come looking for a project leader, a new department chair, a head of patient experience, a leader, or an educator, they come looking for us.

As SHM’s new president, I commit to SHM being the organization that is dedicated to helping you. It’s impossible to see around every corner, but starting in the coming year, I think SHM and hospitalists have to move forward in four key directions:

1. Expand and engage SHM’s membership. Although we just reached our 15,000th member, there are 52,000 hospitalists, plus even more when you include advanced practice colleagues, whom we would like to become SHM members under our “big tent.” We want to draw in those hospitalists, show them how, whether it’s through our educational offerings, learning portal, or active involvement in projects and committees, we can engage them at every stage of their career—and ask them what else we can do to help them find their path and be prepared for it.
2. We must continue pushing our members and projects to be focused on patient- and family-centered care. Every project that takes the extra steps of incorporating the thoughts and feelings of our patients and families will get a better result. I would like to see hospitalists everywhere take a strong position to remember that our patients and their families are our partners in their care; We need to lead on the patient experience and patient-centered care front. Two years ago, we launched the Patient Experience Committee to do just that, and it is an important research topic on the minds of the Journal of Hospital Medicine editors. After all, we are all people needing people.
3. We have to move assertively to understand our role in an era of risk. While in many senses we have been managing risk either directly or indirectly for decades, the payment models of care (episodes, bundles, MIPS, ACOs) are evolving quickly, and we must stake out our place in this new risk-sharing world and identify our partners. Hospitalists need to have a clear message about how what we do mitigates risk and adds value. In the coming year, SHM will start to do that.
4. In the coming years, we will need to clarify our position regarding specialty recognition, including our training programs. We already have many key components that we identify with as a specialty. While this is also something contentious and political, when we look at the divergence between what we have to do to be clinically effective (e.g., palliative medicine, ICU care, QI, leadership, etc.) and what our training programs provide for us, that gap appears to be increasing. SHM has stepped up with curriculum to fill these gaps and will continue to do so. However, we must question how best to train physicians for these roles and if the current model is sustainable and suitable.

I am privileged and honored to serve as your new president, and I ask each of you to look at yourselves and the opportunities that your practice provides you with to grow—personally and professionally—and make our system and specialty better. Look to SHM to help you, support you, and provide resources for you to walk your path. TH

Dr. Harte is a practicing hospitalist, president of the Society of Hospital Medicine, and president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland.

I believe there is no better field than hospital medicine to find your career path, and there’s no better organization than SHM to support you as you follow that path. My path is probably similar to most, a little unplanned and a little unexpected, but I am sure each member has their story. Hospital medicine made an early impact on me during an internship where I was exposed to physician role models with terrific leadership skills. They were blazing trails by challenging long-held beliefs about the care of hospitalized patients.

The term “hospitalist” had not yet quite penetrated national consciousness, but Dr. Bob Wachter and Dr. Lee Goldman had already started implementing the model at the University of California, San Francisco, where I was privileged to be an intern during an exciting time. There, I learned directly from some of the individuals who would quickly become pioneers in hospital medicine, influencing a generation of physicians by putting definition and structure around the concept of a hospitalist.

During residency, I saw these hospitalists demonstrate key leadership attributes that distinguished from other physicians. They had an appreciation for the team, a collaborative approach, and an ability to understand the complexity of coordinating acute care. They led from the front, not from behind the lines. So it was no wonder that so many of my colleagues gravitated toward this new field.

After residency, my first job was at a community hospital in Marin, Calif., where a new hospitalist program had started just a year or two earlier. The same collaborative skills that created better patient care with nurses, pharmacists, and the medical staff were positively reinforced and recognized. I got married and had my first child, and my path took a turn east to the Cleveland Clinic. Now back in the academic world and after two more children, that path for me turned in highly unexpected ways—as a department chair, then as medical director for data and analytics, then briefly overseeing population health, and now as head of a hospital in the Cleveland Clinic system.

Stories like mine are not at all extraordinary. At HM16 in San Diego, I heard stories of hospitalists ascendant in their organizations, being given incredible responsibilities and a long rope. The day-to-day work we have done as hospitalists has been our training for all these roles. This daily practice demands a level of growth, development, and exposure that no other specialty requires. There is no better environment to learn about leadership, teaching, and complex systems than perhaps the most complex system of all—the hospital. In this environment, we have innumerable opportunities to find, pick, and create our own paths to improve our healthcare system at every level from the bedside to the top of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS).

Hospital medicine puts so many components and challenges of healthcare in our daily practice: complex team problem-solving; relationships up, down, and across a hierarchy; IT; education; process improvement; ethics; medical staff politics. The successful hospitalist, by definition, has to be able to learn and attain mastery across a broad set of knowledge and skills. We have become naturals in a world of "matrixes management" because it is how we live our lives every day. This is why when our medical staffs and administration come looking for a project leader, a new department chair, a head of patient experience, a leader, or an educator, they come looking for us.

As SHM’s new president, I commit to SHM being the organization that is dedicated to helping you. It’s impossible to see around every corner, but starting in the coming year, I think SHM and hospitalists have to move forward in four key directions:

1. Expand and engage SHM’s membership. Although we just reached our 15,000th member, there are 52,000 hospitalists, plus even more when you include advanced practice colleagues, whom we would like to become SHM members under our “big tent.” We want to draw in those hospitalists, show them how, whether it’s through our educational offerings, learning portal, or active involvement in projects and committees, we can engage them at every stage of their career—and ask them what else we can do to help them find their path and be prepared for it.
2. We must continue pushing our members and projects to be focused on patient- and family-centered care. Every project that takes the extra steps of incorporating the thoughts and feelings of our patients and families will get a better result. I would like to see hospitalists everywhere take a strong position to remember that our patients and their families are our partners in their care; We need to lead on the patient experience and patient-centered care front. Two years ago, we launched the Patient Experience Committee to do just that, and it is an important research topic on the minds of the Journal of Hospital Medicine editors. After all, we are all people needing people.
3. We have to move assertively to understand our role in an era of risk. While in many senses we have been managing risk either directly or indirectly for decades, the payment models of care (episodes, bundles, MIPS, ACOs) are evolving quickly, and we must stake out our place in this new risk-sharing world and identify our partners. Hospitalists need to have a clear message about how what we do mitigates risk and adds value. In the coming year, SHM will start to do that.
4. In the coming years, we will need to clarify our position regarding specialty recognition, including our training programs. We already have many key components that we identify with as a specialty. While this is also something contentious and political, when we look at the divergence between what we have to do to be clinically effective (e.g., palliative medicine, ICU care, QI, leadership, etc.) and what our training programs provide for us, that gap appears to be increasing. SHM has stepped up with curriculum to fill these gaps and will continue to do so. However, we must question how best to train physicians for these roles and if the current model is sustainable and suitable.

I am privileged and honored to serve as your new president, and I ask each of you to look at yourselves and the opportunities that your practice provides you with to grow—personally and professionally—and make our system and specialty better. Look to SHM to help you, support you, and provide resources for you to walk your path. TH

Dr. Harte is a practicing hospitalist, president of the Society of Hospital Medicine, and president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland.

I believe there is no better field than hospital medicine to find your career path, and there’s no better organization than SHM to support you as you follow that path. My path is probably similar to most, a little unplanned and a little unexpected, but I am sure each member has their story. Hospital medicine made an early impact on me during an internship where I was exposed to physician role models with terrific leadership skills. They were blazing trails by challenging long-held beliefs about the care of hospitalized patients.

The term “hospitalist” had not yet quite penetrated national consciousness, but Dr. Bob Wachter and Dr. Lee Goldman had already started implementing the model at the University of California, San Francisco, where I was privileged to be an intern during an exciting time. There, I learned directly from some of the individuals who would quickly become pioneers in hospital medicine, influencing a generation of physicians by putting definition and structure around the concept of a hospitalist.

During residency, I saw these hospitalists demonstrate key leadership attributes that distinguished from other physicians. They had an appreciation for the team, a collaborative approach, and an ability to understand the complexity of coordinating acute care. They led from the front, not from behind the lines. So it was no wonder that so many of my colleagues gravitated toward this new field.

After residency, my first job was at a community hospital in Marin, Calif., where a new hospitalist program had started just a year or two earlier. The same collaborative skills that created better patient care with nurses, pharmacists, and the medical staff were positively reinforced and recognized. I got married and had my first child, and my path took a turn east to the Cleveland Clinic. Now back in the academic world and after two more children, that path for me turned in highly unexpected ways—as a department chair, then as medical director for data and analytics, then briefly overseeing population health, and now as head of a hospital in the Cleveland Clinic system.

Stories like mine are not at all extraordinary. At HM16 in San Diego, I heard stories of hospitalists ascendant in their organizations, being given incredible responsibilities and a long rope. The day-to-day work we have done as hospitalists has been our training for all these roles. This daily practice demands a level of growth, development, and exposure that no other specialty requires. There is no better environment to learn about leadership, teaching, and complex systems than perhaps the most complex system of all—the hospital. In this environment, we have innumerable opportunities to find, pick, and create our own paths to improve our healthcare system at every level from the bedside to the top of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS).

Hospital medicine puts so many components and challenges of healthcare in our daily practice: complex team problem-solving; relationships up, down, and across a hierarchy; IT; education; process improvement; ethics; medical staff politics. The successful hospitalist, by definition, has to be able to learn and attain mastery across a broad set of knowledge and skills. We have become naturals in a world of "matrixes management" because it is how we live our lives every day. This is why when our medical staffs and administration come looking for a project leader, a new department chair, a head of patient experience, a leader, or an educator, they come looking for us.

As SHM’s new president, I commit to SHM being the organization that is dedicated to helping you. It’s impossible to see around every corner, but starting in the coming year, I think SHM and hospitalists have to move forward in four key directions:

1. Expand and engage SHM’s membership. Although we just reached our 15,000th member, there are 52,000 hospitalists, plus even more when you include advanced practice colleagues, whom we would like to become SHM members under our “big tent.” We want to draw in those hospitalists, show them how, whether it’s through our educational offerings, learning portal, or active involvement in projects and committees, we can engage them at every stage of their career—and ask them what else we can do to help them find their path and be prepared for it.
2. We must continue pushing our members and projects to be focused on patient- and family-centered care. Every project that takes the extra steps of incorporating the thoughts and feelings of our patients and families will get a better result. I would like to see hospitalists everywhere take a strong position to remember that our patients and their families are our partners in their care; We need to lead on the patient experience and patient-centered care front. Two years ago, we launched the Patient Experience Committee to do just that, and it is an important research topic on the minds of the Journal of Hospital Medicine editors. After all, we are all people needing people.
3. We have to move assertively to understand our role in an era of risk. While in many senses we have been managing risk either directly or indirectly for decades, the payment models of care (episodes, bundles, MIPS, ACOs) are evolving quickly, and we must stake out our place in this new risk-sharing world and identify our partners. Hospitalists need to have a clear message about how what we do mitigates risk and adds value. In the coming year, SHM will start to do that.
4. In the coming years, we will need to clarify our position regarding specialty recognition, including our training programs. We already have many key components that we identify with as a specialty. While this is also something contentious and political, when we look at the divergence between what we have to do to be clinically effective (e.g., palliative medicine, ICU care, QI, leadership, etc.) and what our training programs provide for us, that gap appears to be increasing. SHM has stepped up with curriculum to fill these gaps and will continue to do so. However, we must question how best to train physicians for these roles and if the current model is sustainable and suitable.

I am privileged and honored to serve as your new president, and I ask each of you to look at yourselves and the opportunities that your practice provides you with to grow—personally and professionally—and make our system and specialty better. Look to SHM to help you, support you, and provide resources for you to walk your path. TH

Dr. Harte is a practicing hospitalist, president of the Society of Hospital Medicine, and president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland.

The changes launched by the Affordable Care Act are upon us and have created considerable trepidation among many in healthcare, particularly our chief financial officers (CFOs). The CFOs’ core responsibilities include financial planning, contracting, and setting budgets. Although finance teams and clinical leaders sometimes feel like they are speaking different languages—and, in fact, many physicians couldn’t pick their hospital’s CFO out of a police lineup—successful healthcare systems bridge that gap, enabling clinical and finance leaders to work together toward common goals.

It’s easy for us doctor types to be leery of our hospital’s financial team. If you’ve ever been in direct conversation with your CFO, you may have found the discussion was packed with terms like “EBIDA,” “capital allocation,” and “operating margin,” and seemed to imply that the organization is prioritizing its bond rating over its composite PSI [patient safety indicators] performance. But the truth is that our finance teams are frustrated, too. In fact, they are more than frustrated—they are scared.

They really haven’t been sleeping well lately. They’d feel better if doctors could try to see the world that they see. A CFO’s core responsibility is ensuring a responsible, long-range financial plan that meets the needs of their hospital stakeholders—to paraphrase Tom Wolfe paraphrasing astronaut Gus Grissom, “no bucks, no Buck Rogers”—and that responsibility got a lot harder in 2014. By understanding their perspective, we clinicians should be able to take actions that result in better care of our patients today—and ensure a sustainable hospital that can take care of patients tomorrow. So that we can better empathize with our green-visored colleagues, here are a few of the thoughts going through their heads as they toss and turn at 3 a.m.

Change Is All Around

There are many urgent pressures on hospital, physician, and healthcare revenues. Keep in mind that a hospital’s costs in terms of pharmaceuticals, equipment, and labor (the average hospital has nearly 60% of its cost in labor) are not really going down to offset that revenue loss. While we’ve become uncomfortably familiar with RAC audits, value-based purchasing, the sustainable growth rate, and sequestration, I’d suggest that these revenue challenges pale in comparison to the insomnia created by the rapid rise of healthcare consumerism. Lost, or at least buried, in the stories about ACA politics, coverage of the uninsured, website malfunctions, and dropped insurance plans is the fact that the nature of insurance is changing.

Although offerings like medical savings accounts and high-deductible plans have been around for years, they are increasingly mainstream, because the plans offered through the insurance exchanges, which have surpassed the seven million mark in enrollment as of the time of this writing, all carry substantial patient commitments. The great majority of these plans—81% through February—are either “bronze” or “silver” level—and keep in mind that the average “gold” plan, in covering 80% of anticipated expenses, leaves patients with higher commitments than most large-employer group plans probably do. From that standpoint, they require patients, doctors, and hospitals to manage healthcare differently than they have in the past: We have to be mindful that patients are paying more of the “first dollar.”

The problem, from a CFO’s perspective, is at least twofold: First, a lot of patients don’t pay the portion of their bill for which they are responsible. Many doctors, hospitals, and healthcare systems are moving toward more assertive and up-front collections for non-emergency care; unfortunately, at best, we don’t do a very good job and, at worst, we create an uncomfortable space where we either channel the practices of collection agencies or leave much-needed funds on the table. As the deductibles, co-pays, and co-insurance obligations rise, so do the uncollected accounts. Our advocacy for patients increasingly requires us to be better stewards of their resources.

The second insomnia-inducing aspect of consumerism is transparency of pricing. As the exchanges move to create a “Priceline.com”-like approach to selecting an insurance plan, a similar transformation is occurring in how payers—and, with the spread of plans with higher patient obligations, patients themselves—are looking at how we set prices for everything from MRIs and laboratory services to hospitalization and physician charges. While we as individuals are used to price transparency in purchasing consumer goods, the third-party payment system in healthcare has insulated us, and our hospitals, from the consequences of the market system. (Please note, dear reader: I’m not defending either the past practices or current policy. I’m simply diagnosing why your CFO has black circles under his or her eyes.)

So, prices are increasingly published and available for comparison shopping by both insurers and individuals with those high deductibles or co-insurance amounts. As charges hit their pocketbooks, there is good reason to believe that patients will be “brand loyal” only to the point where they stop appreciating value. Systems with a reliable advantage in pricing (think: academic medical centers) run a great risk of losing business quickly if they cannot demonstrate value for those prices. Hospital-based physicians have been in the position of being the “translators” of value-based care—by always advocating for measurably better care, we help both our patients and our organizations.

Variation in Care

Perhaps most befuddling to our CFO friends are the variations in costs, outcomes, and clinical processes that seemingly similar patients with seemingly similar problems incur. Wide variations might occur based on just about any parameter, from the name of the attending physician to the day of the week of admission. Of course, at times, this variation could be explainable by, say, clinically relevant features that are simply not adjusted for, or the absence of literature to guide decisions. But, all too often, no reasonable explanation exists, and underneath that is a simmering concern that wide variations reflect failure to adhere to known guidelines, uneven distribution of resources, and “waste” deeply embedded in the healthcare value stream.

Less widely understood to clinicians is that, from the CFO’s perspective, the movement toward “value over volume” and risk-bearing systems such as accountable care organizations (ACOs) requires healthcare organizations to think like insurance companies. They must be able to accurately predict clinical outcomes within a population so that they can assess their actuarial risk and manage appropriately. Wide variations in care make those predictions less valid and outcomes more unpredictable, greatly raising the stakes for an ACO or other risk-bearing model.

From the CFO’s perspective, a key advantage to the move toward systems directly employing physicians is that a management structure can be created to decrease this variation; however, I’d question whether many physician groups, much less employed-group practices, have the appropriate management culture or the sophistication with data to do this effectively.

The Cost of Recapitalization

Most of the hospitals I’ve worked in are a jumble of incrementally newer additions built on a decades-old core facility. Clinicians tend to see the consequences as patients see them: not enough private rooms, outdated technology and equipment, poorly integrated computer and health IT systems, and inadequate storage for equipment. Your CFO certainly sees these same things, but has the additional challenge of trying to keep up with the demands for new facilities and capital purchases while maintaining the older physical plant and preserving the long-term financial strength of the organization. Even though roofing, HVAC, and new flooring are rarely as sexy as a new surgical robot, it won’t do much good to invest in that new OR equipment if the roof is leaking. And healthcare construction is really expensive, even more so because of entirely appropriate requirements that renovations bring older structures up to modern codes.

In the healthcare world, these expenses are formidable. Hospitals, like other businesses, sometimes borrow money to fund projects—particularly new construction projects. Nonprofit hospitals can be attractive to lenders because of their tax-advantaged nature. But, like our personal credit ratings, a healthcare system that enters into the bond market has specific metrics at which lenders look carefully to determine the cost of such lending, such as payer mix, income margin, debt ratios, and earnings before interest, depreciation, and amortization (EBIDA). And that’s where we come full circle to that latest conversation with the CFO.

So in order to preserve the ability to meet the needs of stakeholders, our friends in finance need to make sure a long-range plan is in place that continues to fund operations, growth, and ongoing maintenance, including the ability to borrow money when appropriate. Going forward, thriving healthcare organizations will have to be consumer-minded and successful in managing the risks of population health. The uncertainty created by the exchanges and transparency, and the inability to accurately gauge and manage the risk of adverse outcomes, has our CFO colleagues pleading with us for a prescription that will ease their restless nights. Here’s how we can help:

• Focus on working with your group to measure and minimize variations in care processes and outcomes among patients and doctors;
• Be mindful that in a value-based world, CMS and insurers now look at both inpatient and outpatient utilization and costs, and we need to do the same in our transitional care planning; and
• Be conscious that our prescriptions for care are increasingly impacting patients’ wallets, so we need to articulate and demonstrate the clinical value that underlies each decision.

In Sum

The next time you or your nocturnist is admitting that nth patient at 3 a.m., consider that your CFO may also be wide awake, struggling with his or her own version of a management challenge. As physicians who practice in hospitals, which are perhaps the most costly environments in the healthcare world, you and your colleagues may be well positioned to help make your hospitals more efficient, to better manage and improve those outcomes, and to help identify and prioritize the most pressing capital needs.

In short, just what the doctor ordered for your CFO to finally get a good night’s sleep.

Dr. Harte is president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland and an SHM board member.

The changes launched by the Affordable Care Act are upon us and have created considerable trepidation among many in healthcare, particularly our chief financial officers (CFOs). The CFOs’ core responsibilities include financial planning, contracting, and setting budgets. Although finance teams and clinical leaders sometimes feel like they are speaking different languages—and, in fact, many physicians couldn’t pick their hospital’s CFO out of a police lineup—successful healthcare systems bridge that gap, enabling clinical and finance leaders to work together toward common goals.

It’s easy for us doctor types to be leery of our hospital’s financial team. If you’ve ever been in direct conversation with your CFO, you may have found the discussion was packed with terms like “EBIDA,” “capital allocation,” and “operating margin,” and seemed to imply that the organization is prioritizing its bond rating over its composite PSI [patient safety indicators] performance. But the truth is that our finance teams are frustrated, too. In fact, they are more than frustrated—they are scared.

They really haven’t been sleeping well lately. They’d feel better if doctors could try to see the world that they see. A CFO’s core responsibility is ensuring a responsible, long-range financial plan that meets the needs of their hospital stakeholders—to paraphrase Tom Wolfe paraphrasing astronaut Gus Grissom, “no bucks, no Buck Rogers”—and that responsibility got a lot harder in 2014. By understanding their perspective, we clinicians should be able to take actions that result in better care of our patients today—and ensure a sustainable hospital that can take care of patients tomorrow. So that we can better empathize with our green-visored colleagues, here are a few of the thoughts going through their heads as they toss and turn at 3 a.m.

Change Is All Around

There are many urgent pressures on hospital, physician, and healthcare revenues. Keep in mind that a hospital’s costs in terms of pharmaceuticals, equipment, and labor (the average hospital has nearly 60% of its cost in labor) are not really going down to offset that revenue loss. While we’ve become uncomfortably familiar with RAC audits, value-based purchasing, the sustainable growth rate, and sequestration, I’d suggest that these revenue challenges pale in comparison to the insomnia created by the rapid rise of healthcare consumerism. Lost, or at least buried, in the stories about ACA politics, coverage of the uninsured, website malfunctions, and dropped insurance plans is the fact that the nature of insurance is changing.

Although offerings like medical savings accounts and high-deductible plans have been around for years, they are increasingly mainstream, because the plans offered through the insurance exchanges, which have surpassed the seven million mark in enrollment as of the time of this writing, all carry substantial patient commitments. The great majority of these plans—81% through February—are either “bronze” or “silver” level—and keep in mind that the average “gold” plan, in covering 80% of anticipated expenses, leaves patients with higher commitments than most large-employer group plans probably do. From that standpoint, they require patients, doctors, and hospitals to manage healthcare differently than they have in the past: We have to be mindful that patients are paying more of the “first dollar.”

The problem, from a CFO’s perspective, is at least twofold: First, a lot of patients don’t pay the portion of their bill for which they are responsible. Many doctors, hospitals, and healthcare systems are moving toward more assertive and up-front collections for non-emergency care; unfortunately, at best, we don’t do a very good job and, at worst, we create an uncomfortable space where we either channel the practices of collection agencies or leave much-needed funds on the table. As the deductibles, co-pays, and co-insurance obligations rise, so do the uncollected accounts. Our advocacy for patients increasingly requires us to be better stewards of their resources.

The second insomnia-inducing aspect of consumerism is transparency of pricing. As the exchanges move to create a “Priceline.com”-like approach to selecting an insurance plan, a similar transformation is occurring in how payers—and, with the spread of plans with higher patient obligations, patients themselves—are looking at how we set prices for everything from MRIs and laboratory services to hospitalization and physician charges. While we as individuals are used to price transparency in purchasing consumer goods, the third-party payment system in healthcare has insulated us, and our hospitals, from the consequences of the market system. (Please note, dear reader: I’m not defending either the past practices or current policy. I’m simply diagnosing why your CFO has black circles under his or her eyes.)

So, prices are increasingly published and available for comparison shopping by both insurers and individuals with those high deductibles or co-insurance amounts. As charges hit their pocketbooks, there is good reason to believe that patients will be “brand loyal” only to the point where they stop appreciating value. Systems with a reliable advantage in pricing (think: academic medical centers) run a great risk of losing business quickly if they cannot demonstrate value for those prices. Hospital-based physicians have been in the position of being the “translators” of value-based care—by always advocating for measurably better care, we help both our patients and our organizations.

Variation in Care

Perhaps most befuddling to our CFO friends are the variations in costs, outcomes, and clinical processes that seemingly similar patients with seemingly similar problems incur. Wide variations might occur based on just about any parameter, from the name of the attending physician to the day of the week of admission. Of course, at times, this variation could be explainable by, say, clinically relevant features that are simply not adjusted for, or the absence of literature to guide decisions. But, all too often, no reasonable explanation exists, and underneath that is a simmering concern that wide variations reflect failure to adhere to known guidelines, uneven distribution of resources, and “waste” deeply embedded in the healthcare value stream.

Less widely understood to clinicians is that, from the CFO’s perspective, the movement toward “value over volume” and risk-bearing systems such as accountable care organizations (ACOs) requires healthcare organizations to think like insurance companies. They must be able to accurately predict clinical outcomes within a population so that they can assess their actuarial risk and manage appropriately. Wide variations in care make those predictions less valid and outcomes more unpredictable, greatly raising the stakes for an ACO or other risk-bearing model.

From the CFO’s perspective, a key advantage to the move toward systems directly employing physicians is that a management structure can be created to decrease this variation; however, I’d question whether many physician groups, much less employed-group practices, have the appropriate management culture or the sophistication with data to do this effectively.

The Cost of Recapitalization

Most of the hospitals I’ve worked in are a jumble of incrementally newer additions built on a decades-old core facility. Clinicians tend to see the consequences as patients see them: not enough private rooms, outdated technology and equipment, poorly integrated computer and health IT systems, and inadequate storage for equipment. Your CFO certainly sees these same things, but has the additional challenge of trying to keep up with the demands for new facilities and capital purchases while maintaining the older physical plant and preserving the long-term financial strength of the organization. Even though roofing, HVAC, and new flooring are rarely as sexy as a new surgical robot, it won’t do much good to invest in that new OR equipment if the roof is leaking. And healthcare construction is really expensive, even more so because of entirely appropriate requirements that renovations bring older structures up to modern codes.

In the healthcare world, these expenses are formidable. Hospitals, like other businesses, sometimes borrow money to fund projects—particularly new construction projects. Nonprofit hospitals can be attractive to lenders because of their tax-advantaged nature. But, like our personal credit ratings, a healthcare system that enters into the bond market has specific metrics at which lenders look carefully to determine the cost of such lending, such as payer mix, income margin, debt ratios, and earnings before interest, depreciation, and amortization (EBIDA). And that’s where we come full circle to that latest conversation with the CFO.

So in order to preserve the ability to meet the needs of stakeholders, our friends in finance need to make sure a long-range plan is in place that continues to fund operations, growth, and ongoing maintenance, including the ability to borrow money when appropriate. Going forward, thriving healthcare organizations will have to be consumer-minded and successful in managing the risks of population health. The uncertainty created by the exchanges and transparency, and the inability to accurately gauge and manage the risk of adverse outcomes, has our CFO colleagues pleading with us for a prescription that will ease their restless nights. Here’s how we can help:

• Focus on working with your group to measure and minimize variations in care processes and outcomes among patients and doctors;
• Be mindful that in a value-based world, CMS and insurers now look at both inpatient and outpatient utilization and costs, and we need to do the same in our transitional care planning; and
• Be conscious that our prescriptions for care are increasingly impacting patients’ wallets, so we need to articulate and demonstrate the clinical value that underlies each decision.

In Sum

The next time you or your nocturnist is admitting that nth patient at 3 a.m., consider that your CFO may also be wide awake, struggling with his or her own version of a management challenge. As physicians who practice in hospitals, which are perhaps the most costly environments in the healthcare world, you and your colleagues may be well positioned to help make your hospitals more efficient, to better manage and improve those outcomes, and to help identify and prioritize the most pressing capital needs.

In short, just what the doctor ordered for your CFO to finally get a good night’s sleep.

Dr. Harte is president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland and an SHM board member.

The changes launched by the Affordable Care Act are upon us and have created considerable trepidation among many in healthcare, particularly our chief financial officers (CFOs). The CFOs’ core responsibilities include financial planning, contracting, and setting budgets. Although finance teams and clinical leaders sometimes feel like they are speaking different languages—and, in fact, many physicians couldn’t pick their hospital’s CFO out of a police lineup—successful healthcare systems bridge that gap, enabling clinical and finance leaders to work together toward common goals.

It’s easy for us doctor types to be leery of our hospital’s financial team. If you’ve ever been in direct conversation with your CFO, you may have found the discussion was packed with terms like “EBIDA,” “capital allocation,” and “operating margin,” and seemed to imply that the organization is prioritizing its bond rating over its composite PSI [patient safety indicators] performance. But the truth is that our finance teams are frustrated, too. In fact, they are more than frustrated—they are scared.

They really haven’t been sleeping well lately. They’d feel better if doctors could try to see the world that they see. A CFO’s core responsibility is ensuring a responsible, long-range financial plan that meets the needs of their hospital stakeholders—to paraphrase Tom Wolfe paraphrasing astronaut Gus Grissom, “no bucks, no Buck Rogers”—and that responsibility got a lot harder in 2014. By understanding their perspective, we clinicians should be able to take actions that result in better care of our patients today—and ensure a sustainable hospital that can take care of patients tomorrow. So that we can better empathize with our green-visored colleagues, here are a few of the thoughts going through their heads as they toss and turn at 3 a.m.

Change Is All Around

There are many urgent pressures on hospital, physician, and healthcare revenues. Keep in mind that a hospital’s costs in terms of pharmaceuticals, equipment, and labor (the average hospital has nearly 60% of its cost in labor) are not really going down to offset that revenue loss. While we’ve become uncomfortably familiar with RAC audits, value-based purchasing, the sustainable growth rate, and sequestration, I’d suggest that these revenue challenges pale in comparison to the insomnia created by the rapid rise of healthcare consumerism. Lost, or at least buried, in the stories about ACA politics, coverage of the uninsured, website malfunctions, and dropped insurance plans is the fact that the nature of insurance is changing.

Although offerings like medical savings accounts and high-deductible plans have been around for years, they are increasingly mainstream, because the plans offered through the insurance exchanges, which have surpassed the seven million mark in enrollment as of the time of this writing, all carry substantial patient commitments. The great majority of these plans—81% through February—are either “bronze” or “silver” level—and keep in mind that the average “gold” plan, in covering 80% of anticipated expenses, leaves patients with higher commitments than most large-employer group plans probably do. From that standpoint, they require patients, doctors, and hospitals to manage healthcare differently than they have in the past: We have to be mindful that patients are paying more of the “first dollar.”

The problem, from a CFO’s perspective, is at least twofold: First, a lot of patients don’t pay the portion of their bill for which they are responsible. Many doctors, hospitals, and healthcare systems are moving toward more assertive and up-front collections for non-emergency care; unfortunately, at best, we don’t do a very good job and, at worst, we create an uncomfortable space where we either channel the practices of collection agencies or leave much-needed funds on the table. As the deductibles, co-pays, and co-insurance obligations rise, so do the uncollected accounts. Our advocacy for patients increasingly requires us to be better stewards of their resources.

The second insomnia-inducing aspect of consumerism is transparency of pricing. As the exchanges move to create a “Priceline.com”-like approach to selecting an insurance plan, a similar transformation is occurring in how payers—and, with the spread of plans with higher patient obligations, patients themselves—are looking at how we set prices for everything from MRIs and laboratory services to hospitalization and physician charges. While we as individuals are used to price transparency in purchasing consumer goods, the third-party payment system in healthcare has insulated us, and our hospitals, from the consequences of the market system. (Please note, dear reader: I’m not defending either the past practices or current policy. I’m simply diagnosing why your CFO has black circles under his or her eyes.)

So, prices are increasingly published and available for comparison shopping by both insurers and individuals with those high deductibles or co-insurance amounts. As charges hit their pocketbooks, there is good reason to believe that patients will be “brand loyal” only to the point where they stop appreciating value. Systems with a reliable advantage in pricing (think: academic medical centers) run a great risk of losing business quickly if they cannot demonstrate value for those prices. Hospital-based physicians have been in the position of being the “translators” of value-based care—by always advocating for measurably better care, we help both our patients and our organizations.

Variation in Care

Perhaps most befuddling to our CFO friends are the variations in costs, outcomes, and clinical processes that seemingly similar patients with seemingly similar problems incur. Wide variations might occur based on just about any parameter, from the name of the attending physician to the day of the week of admission. Of course, at times, this variation could be explainable by, say, clinically relevant features that are simply not adjusted for, or the absence of literature to guide decisions. But, all too often, no reasonable explanation exists, and underneath that is a simmering concern that wide variations reflect failure to adhere to known guidelines, uneven distribution of resources, and “waste” deeply embedded in the healthcare value stream.

Less widely understood to clinicians is that, from the CFO’s perspective, the movement toward “value over volume” and risk-bearing systems such as accountable care organizations (ACOs) requires healthcare organizations to think like insurance companies. They must be able to accurately predict clinical outcomes within a population so that they can assess their actuarial risk and manage appropriately. Wide variations in care make those predictions less valid and outcomes more unpredictable, greatly raising the stakes for an ACO or other risk-bearing model.

From the CFO’s perspective, a key advantage to the move toward systems directly employing physicians is that a management structure can be created to decrease this variation; however, I’d question whether many physician groups, much less employed-group practices, have the appropriate management culture or the sophistication with data to do this effectively.

The Cost of Recapitalization

Most of the hospitals I’ve worked in are a jumble of incrementally newer additions built on a decades-old core facility. Clinicians tend to see the consequences as patients see them: not enough private rooms, outdated technology and equipment, poorly integrated computer and health IT systems, and inadequate storage for equipment. Your CFO certainly sees these same things, but has the additional challenge of trying to keep up with the demands for new facilities and capital purchases while maintaining the older physical plant and preserving the long-term financial strength of the organization. Even though roofing, HVAC, and new flooring are rarely as sexy as a new surgical robot, it won’t do much good to invest in that new OR equipment if the roof is leaking. And healthcare construction is really expensive, even more so because of entirely appropriate requirements that renovations bring older structures up to modern codes.

In the healthcare world, these expenses are formidable. Hospitals, like other businesses, sometimes borrow money to fund projects—particularly new construction projects. Nonprofit hospitals can be attractive to lenders because of their tax-advantaged nature. But, like our personal credit ratings, a healthcare system that enters into the bond market has specific metrics at which lenders look carefully to determine the cost of such lending, such as payer mix, income margin, debt ratios, and earnings before interest, depreciation, and amortization (EBIDA). And that’s where we come full circle to that latest conversation with the CFO.

So in order to preserve the ability to meet the needs of stakeholders, our friends in finance need to make sure a long-range plan is in place that continues to fund operations, growth, and ongoing maintenance, including the ability to borrow money when appropriate. Going forward, thriving healthcare organizations will have to be consumer-minded and successful in managing the risks of population health. The uncertainty created by the exchanges and transparency, and the inability to accurately gauge and manage the risk of adverse outcomes, has our CFO colleagues pleading with us for a prescription that will ease their restless nights. Here’s how we can help:

• Focus on working with your group to measure and minimize variations in care processes and outcomes among patients and doctors;
• Be mindful that in a value-based world, CMS and insurers now look at both inpatient and outpatient utilization and costs, and we need to do the same in our transitional care planning; and
• Be conscious that our prescriptions for care are increasingly impacting patients’ wallets, so we need to articulate and demonstrate the clinical value that underlies each decision.

In Sum

The next time you or your nocturnist is admitting that nth patient at 3 a.m., consider that your CFO may also be wide awake, struggling with his or her own version of a management challenge. As physicians who practice in hospitals, which are perhaps the most costly environments in the healthcare world, you and your colleagues may be well positioned to help make your hospitals more efficient, to better manage and improve those outcomes, and to help identify and prioritize the most pressing capital needs.

In short, just what the doctor ordered for your CFO to finally get a good night’s sleep.

Dr. Harte is president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland and an SHM board member.

Dr. Harte

Six years ago, after I had been in clinical practice for almost a decade, my career took several unusual turns that now have me sitting in the position of president of a 500-bed, full-service, very successful community hospital and referral center. While that has inevitably whittled my clinical time down to a mere fraction of what it used to be, I still spend a lot of time “on the dance floor,” although the steps are different at the bedside.

Whether you spend your day going from patient to patient or meeting to meeting, over time it’s nearly inevitable that you will lose some perspective and appreciation for the hospital settings that we have chosen to spend our careers in. From time to time, whether you are in clinical medicine or administration, take the time to step off that dance floor and get a different perspective, to reflect upon our hospital environment. It’s a critical skill for “systems-based thinkers.” Take a minute to reconnect and appreciate some extraordinary things about the places we work in.

Here are a handful of my own reflections:

Hospitals are remarkable places. Lives are transformed in hospitals—some by the miraculous skills and technology available, and some despite that technology. Last week, I saw a 23-week-old baby in our neonatal ICU, barely a pound, intubated, being tube-fed breast milk, with skin more delicate than tissue paper. When I was a medical student, such prematurity was simply incompatible with life.

We also walk patients and families through the end-of-life journey. To organize families and patients around such issues and help them find a path toward understanding and closure is a remarkable experience as well.

The difference between a good hospital and a great one is culture, not just “quality.” Over Labor Day, I went to my parents’ house outside Cincinnati. When I arrived, near midnight, my mother greeted my three children and me and then announced that she had to take my father to the hospital. Evidently, he had a skin/soft tissue infection that had gotten worse over the last couple of days, and when contacted that evening, his physician had made arrangements for him to be admitted directly to a nearby community hospital. It sure seemed to me that it would make more sense for me to take him to the hospital, so off we went.

I will say at this point that the quality of his care was fine. He was guided from registration to his room promptly. His IV antibiotics were started and were appropriately chosen. A surgeon saw him and debrided a large purulent lesion. The wound was packed, and he started feeling better. His pain was well controlled, and he went home a few days later with correct discharge instructions. There were no medication errors and no “near-misses” or harm events.

Yet, on that first night, no one was introduced by name or role. On the wheelchair ride up to the room, we passed at least six employees—four nurses or aides, a clerk, and a housekeeper. No one broke away from what they were doing (or not doing) to make eye contact, much less to smile or greet us. This hospital has EHR stations right in patient rooms, and the nurse and charge nurse stood in front of the machine, where we could hear them, complaining about the EHR. No one was able to step back from “the dance floor” of the minute-by-minute work and acknowledge the bummer reality that my father was going to spend Labor Day weekend in the hospital. And this is at a well-regarded community hospital, well-appointed with private rooms, in a relatively affluent community, with resources that most hospitals dream of. I left that night disappointed, not in the quality but in the culture.

Empathy matters. At the Cleveland Clinic, all employed physicians are now required to take a course called “Foundations of Healthcare Communication.” I recently took the class with about a dozen others. Our facilitator led us through several workshops and simulations of patients who were struggling with emotions—fear, uncertainly, anxiety. What struck me in participating in these workshops was our natural tendency as physicians when in these situations to try to “fix the problem.” We try to reassure, for instance, that a patient has “nothing to worry about,” that “everything will be fine,” or that “you are in good hands.”

While these statements may have a role, jumping to them as an immediate response misses a critical step: the acknowledgement of the fear, anxiety, or sense of hopelessness that our patients feel. It’s terribly difficult, when surrounded by so much sickness, to stay in touch with our ability to express empathy. Therefore, it’s all the more important to be able to step back and appreciate the need to do so.

Change is difficult—and hospitals are not airplanes. In healthcare, we are attempting to apply the principles of high reliability, continuous improvement, and “lean workflows” to our systems and to the bedside. This is absolutely necessary to improve patient safety and the outcomes and lives in our communities, with comparisons to the airline industry and other “high reliability” industries as benchmarks. I couldn’t agree more that our focus should not just be on prevention of errors; we should be eliminating them. Every central line-associated bloodstream infection, every “never event,” every patient who does not feel touched by our empathy—we should think of each of these as our industry’s equivalent of a “plane crash.”

As leaders, however, it’s critical that we step back and remember that healthcare is far behind in terms of integrated technologies and decision support—and more dependent on “human factors.” We are more complex, more variable, and more fallible.

A nurse arriving on his or her shift at my hospital is coming in to care for somewhere between four and seven patients, each of whom have different conditions, different complexities, different levels of understanding and expectation, different provider teams and family support. I am not sure that the comparison to the airline industry is appropriate, unless we level the playing field: How safe and reliable would air travel be if, until he or she sat down in the cockpit, the pilot had no idea what kind of plane he would be flying, how many of her flight crew had shown up, what the weather would be like on takeoff, or where the flight was even going. That is more similar to our reality at the bedside.

The answer, of course, is that the airline industry has made the decisions necessary to ensure that pilots, crew, and passengers are never in such situations. We need to re-engineer our own systems, even as they are more reliant upon these human factors. We also need the higher perspective to manage our teams through these extraordinarily difficult changes.

In Sum

I believe that the skills that successful physician leaders need come, either naturally or through self-selection, to many who work in hospital-based environments: teamwork, collaboration, communication, deference to expertise, and a focus on results. I also believe that the physician leaders who will stand out and become leaders in hospitals, systems, and policy will be those who are able stand back, gain perspective, and organize teams and systems toward aspirational strategies that engage our idealism and empathy, and continuously raise the bar.

From my 15 years with SHM and hospital medicine, I’ve seen that our organization is full of such individuals. Those of us in administrative and hospital leadership positions are looking to all of you to learn and showcase those skills, and to lead the way forward to improve care for our patients and communities.

Dr. Harte is president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland and an SHM board member.

Dr. Harte

Six years ago, after I had been in clinical practice for almost a decade, my career took several unusual turns that now have me sitting in the position of president of a 500-bed, full-service, very successful community hospital and referral center. While that has inevitably whittled my clinical time down to a mere fraction of what it used to be, I still spend a lot of time “on the dance floor,” although the steps are different at the bedside.

Whether you spend your day going from patient to patient or meeting to meeting, over time it’s nearly inevitable that you will lose some perspective and appreciation for the hospital settings that we have chosen to spend our careers in. From time to time, whether you are in clinical medicine or administration, take the time to step off that dance floor and get a different perspective, to reflect upon our hospital environment. It’s a critical skill for “systems-based thinkers.” Take a minute to reconnect and appreciate some extraordinary things about the places we work in.

Here are a handful of my own reflections:

Hospitals are remarkable places. Lives are transformed in hospitals—some by the miraculous skills and technology available, and some despite that technology. Last week, I saw a 23-week-old baby in our neonatal ICU, barely a pound, intubated, being tube-fed breast milk, with skin more delicate than tissue paper. When I was a medical student, such prematurity was simply incompatible with life.

We also walk patients and families through the end-of-life journey. To organize families and patients around such issues and help them find a path toward understanding and closure is a remarkable experience as well.

The difference between a good hospital and a great one is culture, not just “quality.” Over Labor Day, I went to my parents’ house outside Cincinnati. When I arrived, near midnight, my mother greeted my three children and me and then announced that she had to take my father to the hospital. Evidently, he had a skin/soft tissue infection that had gotten worse over the last couple of days, and when contacted that evening, his physician had made arrangements for him to be admitted directly to a nearby community hospital. It sure seemed to me that it would make more sense for me to take him to the hospital, so off we went.

I will say at this point that the quality of his care was fine. He was guided from registration to his room promptly. His IV antibiotics were started and were appropriately chosen. A surgeon saw him and debrided a large purulent lesion. The wound was packed, and he started feeling better. His pain was well controlled, and he went home a few days later with correct discharge instructions. There were no medication errors and no “near-misses” or harm events.

Yet, on that first night, no one was introduced by name or role. On the wheelchair ride up to the room, we passed at least six employees—four nurses or aides, a clerk, and a housekeeper. No one broke away from what they were doing (or not doing) to make eye contact, much less to smile or greet us. This hospital has EHR stations right in patient rooms, and the nurse and charge nurse stood in front of the machine, where we could hear them, complaining about the EHR. No one was able to step back from “the dance floor” of the minute-by-minute work and acknowledge the bummer reality that my father was going to spend Labor Day weekend in the hospital. And this is at a well-regarded community hospital, well-appointed with private rooms, in a relatively affluent community, with resources that most hospitals dream of. I left that night disappointed, not in the quality but in the culture.

Empathy matters. At the Cleveland Clinic, all employed physicians are now required to take a course called “Foundations of Healthcare Communication.” I recently took the class with about a dozen others. Our facilitator led us through several workshops and simulations of patients who were struggling with emotions—fear, uncertainly, anxiety. What struck me in participating in these workshops was our natural tendency as physicians when in these situations to try to “fix the problem.” We try to reassure, for instance, that a patient has “nothing to worry about,” that “everything will be fine,” or that “you are in good hands.”

While these statements may have a role, jumping to them as an immediate response misses a critical step: the acknowledgement of the fear, anxiety, or sense of hopelessness that our patients feel. It’s terribly difficult, when surrounded by so much sickness, to stay in touch with our ability to express empathy. Therefore, it’s all the more important to be able to step back and appreciate the need to do so.

Change is difficult—and hospitals are not airplanes. In healthcare, we are attempting to apply the principles of high reliability, continuous improvement, and “lean workflows” to our systems and to the bedside. This is absolutely necessary to improve patient safety and the outcomes and lives in our communities, with comparisons to the airline industry and other “high reliability” industries as benchmarks. I couldn’t agree more that our focus should not just be on prevention of errors; we should be eliminating them. Every central line-associated bloodstream infection, every “never event,” every patient who does not feel touched by our empathy—we should think of each of these as our industry’s equivalent of a “plane crash.”

As leaders, however, it’s critical that we step back and remember that healthcare is far behind in terms of integrated technologies and decision support—and more dependent on “human factors.” We are more complex, more variable, and more fallible.

A nurse arriving on his or her shift at my hospital is coming in to care for somewhere between four and seven patients, each of whom have different conditions, different complexities, different levels of understanding and expectation, different provider teams and family support. I am not sure that the comparison to the airline industry is appropriate, unless we level the playing field: How safe and reliable would air travel be if, until he or she sat down in the cockpit, the pilot had no idea what kind of plane he would be flying, how many of her flight crew had shown up, what the weather would be like on takeoff, or where the flight was even going. That is more similar to our reality at the bedside.

The answer, of course, is that the airline industry has made the decisions necessary to ensure that pilots, crew, and passengers are never in such situations. We need to re-engineer our own systems, even as they are more reliant upon these human factors. We also need the higher perspective to manage our teams through these extraordinarily difficult changes.

In Sum

I believe that the skills that successful physician leaders need come, either naturally or through self-selection, to many who work in hospital-based environments: teamwork, collaboration, communication, deference to expertise, and a focus on results. I also believe that the physician leaders who will stand out and become leaders in hospitals, systems, and policy will be those who are able stand back, gain perspective, and organize teams and systems toward aspirational strategies that engage our idealism and empathy, and continuously raise the bar.

From my 15 years with SHM and hospital medicine, I’ve seen that our organization is full of such individuals. Those of us in administrative and hospital leadership positions are looking to all of you to learn and showcase those skills, and to lead the way forward to improve care for our patients and communities.

Dr. Harte is president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland and an SHM board member.

Dr. Harte

Six years ago, after I had been in clinical practice for almost a decade, my career took several unusual turns that now have me sitting in the position of president of a 500-bed, full-service, very successful community hospital and referral center. While that has inevitably whittled my clinical time down to a mere fraction of what it used to be, I still spend a lot of time “on the dance floor,” although the steps are different at the bedside.

Whether you spend your day going from patient to patient or meeting to meeting, over time it’s nearly inevitable that you will lose some perspective and appreciation for the hospital settings that we have chosen to spend our careers in. From time to time, whether you are in clinical medicine or administration, take the time to step off that dance floor and get a different perspective, to reflect upon our hospital environment. It’s a critical skill for “systems-based thinkers.” Take a minute to reconnect and appreciate some extraordinary things about the places we work in.

Here are a handful of my own reflections:

Hospitals are remarkable places. Lives are transformed in hospitals—some by the miraculous skills and technology available, and some despite that technology. Last week, I saw a 23-week-old baby in our neonatal ICU, barely a pound, intubated, being tube-fed breast milk, with skin more delicate than tissue paper. When I was a medical student, such prematurity was simply incompatible with life.

We also walk patients and families through the end-of-life journey. To organize families and patients around such issues and help them find a path toward understanding and closure is a remarkable experience as well.

The difference between a good hospital and a great one is culture, not just “quality.” Over Labor Day, I went to my parents’ house outside Cincinnati. When I arrived, near midnight, my mother greeted my three children and me and then announced that she had to take my father to the hospital. Evidently, he had a skin/soft tissue infection that had gotten worse over the last couple of days, and when contacted that evening, his physician had made arrangements for him to be admitted directly to a nearby community hospital. It sure seemed to me that it would make more sense for me to take him to the hospital, so off we went.

I will say at this point that the quality of his care was fine. He was guided from registration to his room promptly. His IV antibiotics were started and were appropriately chosen. A surgeon saw him and debrided a large purulent lesion. The wound was packed, and he started feeling better. His pain was well controlled, and he went home a few days later with correct discharge instructions. There were no medication errors and no “near-misses” or harm events.

Yet, on that first night, no one was introduced by name or role. On the wheelchair ride up to the room, we passed at least six employees—four nurses or aides, a clerk, and a housekeeper. No one broke away from what they were doing (or not doing) to make eye contact, much less to smile or greet us. This hospital has EHR stations right in patient rooms, and the nurse and charge nurse stood in front of the machine, where we could hear them, complaining about the EHR. No one was able to step back from “the dance floor” of the minute-by-minute work and acknowledge the bummer reality that my father was going to spend Labor Day weekend in the hospital. And this is at a well-regarded community hospital, well-appointed with private rooms, in a relatively affluent community, with resources that most hospitals dream of. I left that night disappointed, not in the quality but in the culture.

Empathy matters. At the Cleveland Clinic, all employed physicians are now required to take a course called “Foundations of Healthcare Communication.” I recently took the class with about a dozen others. Our facilitator led us through several workshops and simulations of patients who were struggling with emotions—fear, uncertainly, anxiety. What struck me in participating in these workshops was our natural tendency as physicians when in these situations to try to “fix the problem.” We try to reassure, for instance, that a patient has “nothing to worry about,” that “everything will be fine,” or that “you are in good hands.”

While these statements may have a role, jumping to them as an immediate response misses a critical step: the acknowledgement of the fear, anxiety, or sense of hopelessness that our patients feel. It’s terribly difficult, when surrounded by so much sickness, to stay in touch with our ability to express empathy. Therefore, it’s all the more important to be able to step back and appreciate the need to do so.

Change is difficult—and hospitals are not airplanes. In healthcare, we are attempting to apply the principles of high reliability, continuous improvement, and “lean workflows” to our systems and to the bedside. This is absolutely necessary to improve patient safety and the outcomes and lives in our communities, with comparisons to the airline industry and other “high reliability” industries as benchmarks. I couldn’t agree more that our focus should not just be on prevention of errors; we should be eliminating them. Every central line-associated bloodstream infection, every “never event,” every patient who does not feel touched by our empathy—we should think of each of these as our industry’s equivalent of a “plane crash.”

As leaders, however, it’s critical that we step back and remember that healthcare is far behind in terms of integrated technologies and decision support—and more dependent on “human factors.” We are more complex, more variable, and more fallible.

A nurse arriving on his or her shift at my hospital is coming in to care for somewhere between four and seven patients, each of whom have different conditions, different complexities, different levels of understanding and expectation, different provider teams and family support. I am not sure that the comparison to the airline industry is appropriate, unless we level the playing field: How safe and reliable would air travel be if, until he or she sat down in the cockpit, the pilot had no idea what kind of plane he would be flying, how many of her flight crew had shown up, what the weather would be like on takeoff, or where the flight was even going. That is more similar to our reality at the bedside.

The answer, of course, is that the airline industry has made the decisions necessary to ensure that pilots, crew, and passengers are never in such situations. We need to re-engineer our own systems, even as they are more reliant upon these human factors. We also need the higher perspective to manage our teams through these extraordinarily difficult changes.

In Sum

I believe that the skills that successful physician leaders need come, either naturally or through self-selection, to many who work in hospital-based environments: teamwork, collaboration, communication, deference to expertise, and a focus on results. I also believe that the physician leaders who will stand out and become leaders in hospitals, systems, and policy will be those who are able stand back, gain perspective, and organize teams and systems toward aspirational strategies that engage our idealism and empathy, and continuously raise the bar.

From my 15 years with SHM and hospital medicine, I’ve seen that our organization is full of such individuals. Those of us in administrative and hospital leadership positions are looking to all of you to learn and showcase those skills, and to lead the way forward to improve care for our patients and communities.

Dr. Harte is president of Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, part of the Cleveland Clinic Health System. He is associate professor of medicine at the Lerner College of Medicine in Cleveland and an SHM board member.