So I'm currently working in the finance department.
"Working."
A more honest statement would be that I am desperately trying to avoid anything remotely finance related, to no avail. It's not that I'm not bad at numbers--in fact, I'm not--it's just that it's not at all my style. I was the kid in calc class with a novel under the table, surreptitiously trying to hang out with the Bronte sisters while the teacher scribbled nonsense about derivatives and integrals all over the chalkboard. I do think there is some real beauty to be found in a geniously crafted formula, but I have always preferred to coast along upon the backs of beautifully written sentences as opposed to carefully calculated equations. For me, words transcend; numbers drag my light heart and head out of the clouds and down to the dreary world of Excel.
I know that in order for me to grow in my understanding of health care and health systems, my ability to analyze and make decisions based on financial policies is critical. It's such a complex labrynth that I must learn to navigate: Medicare, fee schedules, percent of charges, contractuals, allowances, expenses, deductions, and so on and so forth.
Qualitatively, I know what the final sum of all these numbers: the kind of care a patient can receive. Are they going to wait until their appendix explodes before showing up at the ER in agony at 3am, or are they going to have access to a myriad of preventative care docs and specialists who can monitor each sniffle and mis-shapen mole? Will they see their physician for five minutes or for half an hour? Will they get psychotherapy and psychopharms or a only quickly scrawled prescription?
Can they come to our hospital, or not?
It's a heartwrenching equation, really, and one that healthcare professionals across the country--across the world, really-- must agonize over daily. Patients, physicians, health providers, and (dare I say it!) politicians alike have all heard or (worse) experienced the horror stories and the nightmare of our current health system. What's more, we've all seen the beast of the bottom line for what it really is: an inability to provide quality access to all individuals while staying in the black, even marginally.
There are so many variables in this complex equation that I am only beginning to comprehend, even after years of work and study. The good news, however, is that I am at least aware of my own ignorance. I know that I cannot hope to slay this beast if I can't even recognize it when stares me down with its beady, insidious eyes.
So I will slowly begin to navigate this tortuous path through financial statements and cost reports, even if it makes me want to drive a steely knife through my own forehead every twenty minutes. After a few months, I will probably have edged only deeper into the tangled maze, but at least I will be a step or two closer to understanding. Hopefully my pained efforts will help me launch my own spear into the battle someday, and together we can take the steps to overcome the monstrous challenges facing us in healthcare.
(And until then, let's hope that copious quantities of Diet Coke and Junior Mints can get me through!)
"Working."
A more honest statement would be that I am desperately trying to avoid anything remotely finance related, to no avail. It's not that I'm not bad at numbers--in fact, I'm not--it's just that it's not at all my style. I was the kid in calc class with a novel under the table, surreptitiously trying to hang out with the Bronte sisters while the teacher scribbled nonsense about derivatives and integrals all over the chalkboard. I do think there is some real beauty to be found in a geniously crafted formula, but I have always preferred to coast along upon the backs of beautifully written sentences as opposed to carefully calculated equations. For me, words transcend; numbers drag my light heart and head out of the clouds and down to the dreary world of Excel.
I know that in order for me to grow in my understanding of health care and health systems, my ability to analyze and make decisions based on financial policies is critical. It's such a complex labrynth that I must learn to navigate: Medicare, fee schedules, percent of charges, contractuals, allowances, expenses, deductions, and so on and so forth.
Qualitatively, I know what the final sum of all these numbers: the kind of care a patient can receive. Are they going to wait until their appendix explodes before showing up at the ER in agony at 3am, or are they going to have access to a myriad of preventative care docs and specialists who can monitor each sniffle and mis-shapen mole? Will they see their physician for five minutes or for half an hour? Will they get psychotherapy and psychopharms or a only quickly scrawled prescription?
Can they come to our hospital, or not?
It's a heartwrenching equation, really, and one that healthcare professionals across the country--across the world, really-- must agonize over daily. Patients, physicians, health providers, and (dare I say it!) politicians alike have all heard or (worse) experienced the horror stories and the nightmare of our current health system. What's more, we've all seen the beast of the bottom line for what it really is: an inability to provide quality access to all individuals while staying in the black, even marginally.
There are so many variables in this complex equation that I am only beginning to comprehend, even after years of work and study. The good news, however, is that I am at least aware of my own ignorance. I know that I cannot hope to slay this beast if I can't even recognize it when stares me down with its beady, insidious eyes.
So I will slowly begin to navigate this tortuous path through financial statements and cost reports, even if it makes me want to drive a steely knife through my own forehead every twenty minutes. After a few months, I will probably have edged only deeper into the tangled maze, but at least I will be a step or two closer to understanding. Hopefully my pained efforts will help me launch my own spear into the battle someday, and together we can take the steps to overcome the monstrous challenges facing us in healthcare.
(And until then, let's hope that copious quantities of Diet Coke and Junior Mints can get me through!)
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