Then, on post-op Day 5, the day of her anticipated discharge, a pulmonary embolus thrust her into the numerator position. A preventable, eventually fatal numerator—a numerator who “just would not keep her compression devices on” and whom the staff tried to get out of bed, “but she just wouldn’t do it.” A numerator who just so happened to be my sister.
Every year on April 2, when I call my niece and nephew to wish them a happy birthday, I think about numerators. And I think about how incredibly different life would be for those 10-year-old twins, had their mom just stayed a denominator. And every day, when I sit in conference rooms and hear from countless people about how difficult it is to prevent this and reduce that, and how zero is not feasible, I think about numerators. I don’t look at their bar chart, or their run chart, or their red line, or their blue line, or whether their line is within the control limits, or what their P-value is. I think about who represents that black dot, and about how we are going to actually convince ourselves to “First, do no harm.”
When I find myself amongst a crowd quibbling about finances, lunch breaks, workflows, accountability, and about who is going to check the box or fill out the form, I think about the numerators, and how we are truly wasting their time, their livelihood, and their ability to stay below the line.
And someday, when my niece and nephew are old enough to understand, I will try to help them tolerate and accept the fact that “preventable” and “prevented” are not interchangeable. At least not in the medical industry. At least not yet.
In memory of Colleen Conlin Bowen, May 14, 2004
Dr. Scheurer is a hospitalist and chief quality officer at the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston. She is physician editor of The Hospitalist. Email her at [email protected].
