After 40 minutes in line, six of us dragged our stuff to the constipated customs agent. “You did not complete this form correctly. The address is blank. Go fill it out correctly”, he said without breaking his scowl.
“We rented a farm house in Sheffield,” my wife said. “We will call when we get close so the landlord can guide us to the property.”
“You need to fill in the exact address,” he said, still frowning. “Go stand over there and fill in the address.”
Ah, the joys of dealing with a chart-filler after being up all night on a sold-out charter…
Medical Records, Not Patients
We do the same in medicine. Medical records demand as much work as patients, sometimes more. Providers soon learn that detailed notes offer the best protection in court regardless of what happened in real life.
We force patients to provide answers:
“When did it start hurting?”
“Have you ever experienced this before?”
“I don’t know,” is not an answer. Patients must do better; we need to fill in our forms.
We force patients to run our medical records gauntlet after they’ve been writhing in pain all night. We believe that charts improve care.
A group of us reviewed an integrated care plan for medically complex patients last week. It was utopian: spots for every possible allied health provider, boxes for lifestyle issues and social determinants of health, room for every possible past medical concern, and a ton more all in a few dozen pages.
Our medical records Frankenstein cannot be put back in the womb. It can only get bigger, and scarier.
Inevitably, we use standardized charts, cut and paste. Just listen to a surgeon dictate a note for an uncomplicated appendectomy. Other than the patient’s name, it sounds almost identical to any other.
Does a long, officious chart add value for an individual patient? Do one or two unique details buried in pages boiler plate benefit patients, or providers?
Lawyers, bureaucrats, and health coders love long charts that miss nothing. But do they add value for patients?
(photocredit: boomersinfokiosk.blogspot.com)