I chose the name 'Death Nurse' without fully thinking through what it meant, but this is how it's evolving - as a character in a cartoon world that touches on contemporary life, serious illness, death and everything associated as frequently and in as many different ways as six seasons of the Sopranos (plus every episode of Deadwood, Six Feet Under, The Wire...). Aim high. Keep swinging.
It's pretty simple, which is not the same as easy.
I had it all planned - 'Manifesto Monday' has a nice ring to it. But it's Tuesday. Better late than never.
The biggest challenges for developing the blogging portion of my practice have been consistency and reliability. That's a problem, because if posting useful content is Blogging Rule #1, then #2 is being consistent in posting that useful content. Daily, weekly, or whatever matters less than following the schedule.
So, I'm going to start observing that rule by scheduling content based on the day of the week. I plan to build up to posting a different theme on each weekday.
I'm starting with a commitment to post every Tuesday because that's what day it is today, and I'm starting with Death Nurse Manifesto as Tuesday's focus... because.
I announced the Manifesto back in early December, though the idea has been rattling around my skull for much longer.
What is Death Nurse Manifesto?
It's fortune cookie wisdom, Burma Shave haiku, bumper sticker philosophy, short attention span theater, earworm verse chorus verse, card catalog entry, ticker tape data, distilled and filtered, essence of knowledge, cheat sheet, quick reference guide, the right tool for the right job, solemn advice, half-baked fantasies, rules for living, a reason to tweet, a reason to block, an invitation, a doorway, a bridge, a chasm, an obstacle, completely meaningless and without merit, helpful, funny, offensive and repugnant, a cry for help, the beginning of a longer conversation, a cry in the wilderness, a plea to consider what really matters.
What is "this mess" you're talking about?
It's the overall heath care system in general, and more specifically the many ways we fail with advance care planning, making informed decisions about treatment options in serious illness, goals for care at end of life, caring for the dead and bereaved.
Why four (4) parties? Why not three (3), or eleven (11)?
Because that's how it shakes out. The number is four (4). Who am I to argue? Each party is essential, but if you're wondering if any party is more important than the rest, think you already know, or simply want to know, just ask this question: Whose needs are being met?
C'mon, just give it a try.
Thanks for reading. More soon - next Tuesday at the latest.
Which approach is better for talking with patients and families about prognosis and options for treatment in serious illness, and goals for care at end of life? A: Nurse and Social Worker, live and in person B: Remote talking doctor head on video screen riding a robot trolley Bonus: WTAF is this even a question? AP Story here
Last week I wrote about my goal to purchase one (1) share of stock in each of six (6) publicly-traded hospice corporations.
Willing Buyer met Willing Seller with the help of our good friend The Invisible Hand, and I've collected my shares in an orange crate for safe keeping.
Actually, there's just an electronic record of the whole mess 'o transactions somewhere out in space. No physical money was exchanged, and I don't know if anyone still even issues stock certificates.
Anywhoozle, it's done.
Why did I do this?
I didn't do it to get rich. One share won't cut it.
And it's not an 'investment' in the sense of my wanting to end up with more money in my pocket because of this particular decision.
Also, too: this is not financial or investment advice.
I'm interested in what's going on in the hospice space, and these folks are messing in it. I'd rather learn about them from this perspective. They're in charge, and I get to pester them with questions, opinions, and advice.