JKF Journal: October 2010

A New Meaning for Halloween

I don't particularly like Halloween. I never really have. The candy makes everyone feel sick; the pumpkin carving is difficult even when you have the special little tools; and the costumes- it's just too hard to decide what to be. Three of my children- the teenagers- luckily have sort of outgrown it, except now instead of having to worry about costumes I have to worry about what they are doing as they run around the neighborhoods with a bunch of other teenagers at night. Eight-year-old Sam is still into the trick-or-treat thing. Every year I have grand plans of the two of us making his costume together, and every year we end up going to the "costume express" website where he picks out a costume (which usually comes with a plastic weapon of sorts and probably has a "Made in China" label somewhere on it). We type in a credit card number and pay for express shipping because we put it off until the last minute.

Last year, though, I started to think about Halloween a little bit differently, thanks to a special person named Cindy. Cindy makes Halloween feel a little bit like Christmas here at the Josie King Foundation. I met her a few years ago when I was speaking to a group of doctors and nurses. She was in the audience not because she was a doctor or a nurse, but because her husband died from medical errors in 2008.

I remembered Cindy because after that speech she handed me a sealed envelope with the word "confidential" printed on the front and she had tears in her eyes. I didn't open the envelope until I was on the plane heading home. In the letter she told me about her husband Steve and the medical errors that led to his death.

Steve's birthday was on Halloween. He loved Halloween. Each year, he would decorate his garage with strobe lights, flying witches and scary sounds that reverberated a block away. He loved to sit out front and greet all the neighborhood children who came to trick or treat and wish him a happy birthday. He would give them handfuls of candy, and then he would bring out the good stuff- little scary presents like glow necklaces, flashing teeth and pumpkin pins.

As the first Halloween without Steve approached, Cindy struggled with what to do. Should she go out of town? Should she visit a friend and pretend Halloween didn't exist? She couldn't possibly put on a happy face, greet the trick-or-treaters with a smile and do what her husband was meant to be doing. A part of her wanted to shut the door on it all and just leave a bowl of candy on the doorstep.

That year Cindy read my book Josie's Story. She told me that she felt a connection to the book and to the Josie King Foundation. She knew what she was going to do for that first Halloween. She was going to dedicate Halloween to her husband and to raising awareness on patient safety. She purchased a case of books and placed them next to the bowl of candy. As the trick-or-treaters rang the doorbell she handed them the candy and the little presents, just as Steve had done. Then she took a copy of Josie's Story and handed one to each parent who committed to reading it, and asked that they spread the word on the need to make medical care safer.

A few weeks ago, as the weather cooled off and the leaves in Baltimore began to turn red, yellow and orange, Cindy contacted the Josie King Foundation again. She told us that for this Halloween she would like to hand out Care Journals, our little green book for patients and families to help them track new, complicated medical information during a stay in the hospital. Once again Cindy will follow through with what her husband would have wished- candy and little presents for the children, along with doing what she can to educate her friends and neighbors on patient safety and the need to prevent medical errors.

Thank you, Cindy, for your support and for the generous donation to the Josie King Foundation. Thank you for your work in preventing medical errors. Most of all, thank you for making this a special day to remember Steve- even for those of us who never knew him.

Happy Halloween to you, and to everyone else.

-Sorrel

Labels: by Sorrel, Halloween, partners

A Morning with Blue Cross Blue Shield Executives

Last week I spent the morning in Chicago at the Blue National Summit of the national Blue Cross Blue Shield Association. This conference was unlike any previous conference that Blue Cross Blue Shield had put together. In the past, each separate entity of the Blues- the account people, the marketing people, the information technology people- would have their own separate conference. This year, however, the Blues decided to mix it up. They decided to bring everyone together- 1,100 executives from varying backgrounds all under one roof for a three day conference.

A few months earlier I had been asked to be one of the conference's keynote speakers. I was hesitant to accept. This was not my usual hospital group of doctors, nurses, CEOs. How could I make a difference in the way health insurance executives think about patient safety?

In my efforts to answer that question, I simplified it, as I sometimes have to do in order to understand something. I began to see more clearly that these Blue Cross Blue Shield executives were just a group of people who wanted to help their clients- people like me and 100 million other people: they help pay our bills when we are in the hospital; they don't want us to receive a hospital-acquired infection; and they don't want us to be put into harm's way by medical errors, because these things lead to longer hospital stays or even death.

These executives don't want any of this to happen to their clients because it will cost them more money AND because they are good people. They want their clients to receive quality care, which is what we deserve and what they are paying for- nothing less.

BCBS is a big, powerful company. If I could somehow inspire them to put added pressure on the hospitals to prevent central line bloodstream infections or other medical errors that kill 98,000 Americans annually, then my job and that of the Josie King Foundation could possibly be made easier. They could come at this patient safety work from a different angle.

I decided I would miss Jack's soccer game and Eva's hockey game and I flew to Chicago. Usually when I am asked to address an audience I choose to stand behind the podium because it gives me a little sense of security. But this time I stepped away from the podium and moved closer to the edge of the stage, closer to the audience. I had only one chance, forty minutes to make a difference. I shared Josie's story and I asked the audience for their help. I flew home after the conference hoping that Josie's story had moved them.

That afternoon, the Josie King Foundation began to receive emails from people who were in the audience. They told us that they would remember Josie's story, and that they planned on using the story along with some Josie King Foundation programs to transform their work. That was all I needed to hear. I knew that the trip had been worth it. There would be many other soccer games, but not many opportunities like the one I had been given in Chicago.

Thank you to all of the wonderful BCBS executives who gave me forty minutes of their time last week. Thank you for letting Josie's story into your hearts. Thank you most of all for taking that story and letting it be more than just inspiration. Thank you for your work in encouraging hospitals to provide us with safe care. Please keep up the good work and know that the Josie King Foundation is counting on you.

-Sorrel

Labels: by Sorrel, Speaking

Thursday, October 28, 2010

A New Meaning for Halloween

Monday, October 11, 2010

A Morning with Blue Cross Blue Shield Executives

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