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.