Ilene Corina: “I couldn’t believe it when the doctor said ‘no’.”

Ilene Corina, PULSE of New York

The National Patient Safety Foundation (NPSF) annual Congress will bring some 1400 patient safety champions from around the country to New Orleans May 8-10 2013, to collaborate, brainstorm, teach and learn. As guest blogger for the NPSF Congress, I'm privileged to share the amazing stories of some of the champions of patient safety who'll be attending. This profile will cross-post on the NPSF Congress website this week.

Who: Ilene Corina

What: President, PULSE of New York

Member, NPSF Board of Governors, 7 years 

ICorina@aol.com

www.pulseofny.org, www.patientsafetyconsultants.com  

Ilene Corina has experienced the best and worst in health care. Her first child bled to death after a routine surgery. Her agony intensified after his death, when the surgeon who’d dismissed her concerns about her son's bleeding post-surgery refused to take her phone calls. But it was another event years later that would propel Ilene into a lifetime of patient advocacy. Today she believes that in order to stay on top of health care, there is no substitute for sitting at the bedside of a patient.

Pat Mastors: What brought you to patient safety in the first place?

Ilene Corina: Most people think it was the death of my first child, Michael in 1990, who bled to death from a tonsillectomy, that sent me into the work of patient safety, but that's not true.  I was in too much pain then. The impetus was the feeling of helplessness years later when my youngest child needed surgery.

Matthew was born severely premature at just 23 weeks. His team in the NICU was amazing, and he survived. But when he was three years old, and I needed an anesthesiologist for his surgery in 1996, I was told I couldn't choose the anesthesiologist myself.  Even though my son was born premature, had 24 hour nursing care and lung problems, and I went to meet the anesthesiologists in the weeks before his surgery with his list of medications, lung x-rays and medical records. When the doctor said "no"-- that I would have to wait until the day of surgery and see who would be available-- I was stunned. The system was taking away my right to choose a doctor for Matt, after I'd helped get him over the painful humps so early in his life.  I was determined to change things-- or at least be heard. I knew it was time, right there, to change the rules, were I ever to need to do this again. 

 

The joy in all of this is that Matt not only survived being born so early, he had no disabilities and today is a healthy young man in college. I credit that to the partnership between me and his medical team, back when he was born. I like to think I experienced the worst in healthcare and I experienced the best. I now want people to know what I know.

Pat Mastors: What’s the most encouraging thing that’s happened in the past year in patient safety? The most concerning?

Ilene Corina: The work that I am doing on Long Island is growing.  Our Patient Safety Advisory Council has grown and we have looked at patient safety as it pertains to individuals, not just a society as a whole. Some of the groups I have worked closely with are people with disabilities, adults with low literacy, transgender patients and teen moms.  All our work is at the grassroots level. I learn more than I can teach, and that's exciting!  We are teaching about patient safety, and then learn what it's like to walk in their shoes, what their obstacles are, and how they’re navigating them. Then we develop tools to help them feel more empowered and improve their care.  We hope to help the people who work in the healthcare system understand what we have learned and incorporate our findings into their work. 

  

I think the most concerning thing is still the lack of funding available for our type of work.  There are hundreds of community members representing breast cancer support, HIV/AIDS, Autism, veterans and bullying, but not enough representing patient safety.  It's hard to grasp or show the full scope of the need when there are only a few of us working on the changes.

Pat Mastors:  What will you uniquely bring to the discussion at the Congress?  

Ilene Corina: I am not presenting at the Congress but I will be looking for collaboration...NPSF is the leader in bringing the patient and families voice to the table.  I like to think that we do the same at PULSE,  bring everyone's voice to the table.

Pat Mastors: Where would you like to see more energy focused?

Ilene Corina: Two areas. Our Family-Centered Patient Advocacy is growing and our small classes fill up now. I would love to hold classes more often.

I also think that the people who make the big decisions in the hospital setting may be losing track of what goes on at the bedside. I feel obligated to spend a certain amount of hours a year with people I do not know at their bedside so I can watch independently what happens and practice what I preach for others to do. Do they wash their hands or introduce themselves to the patient?  Are they giving out pills in little paper cups and not asking the patient her name?  Is the doctor asking the patient questions and having the patient answer appropriately?  Does the nurse seem stressed?    I need to know what is happening at the bedside.  If problems need addressing, I will write to the hospital and I also blog about my experiences. These are things no one can see regularly unless someone is willing to plant themselves at the patient's bedside…and I am willing! 

Medstartr: Where The "Crazies" Are

Entrepreneurs in general are known to share five “C” traits: Commitment, Confidence, Creativity, Courage and Collaboration.

But in medical entrepreneurship, the other “C” might be for "Crazy". There are so many disconnects, agendas, and bureaucracies in health care, you'd have to be nuts to go there, right? But  when an unfortunate medical event hits home, you're driven by the crazy notion you can make it better for patients. 

Look at some of the folks posting projects on Medstartr.com, a brand new crowd funding platform where medical entrepreneurs pitch for funding from the world at large:

•  Regina Holliday, young art teacher and mother of two who lost her husband to kidney cancer. She was frustrated at the pace of government efforts to include patient voices in policy-making. Within a couple of months she’d crowd-funded the first-ever national conference on partnering with patients. It took place in Kansas City within three months of the project’s posting.
•  Two sisters who lost their mom to breast cancer and got mastectomies (after learning they had the breast cancer gene too) couldn’t find a bra that fit their newly reconstructed bodies. So they’re creating one that makes them feel as comfortable as any dual-breasted woman.
•  Me. After losing my father in the hospital to complications of a C.diff infection, and seeing how unprepared and ill-equipped patients are to engage in their care and help keep themselves safe from infection, I created a “portable patient advocate” that clips on the bed rail called a Patient Pod. My hope is to get them in the hands of patients sooner rather than later.

As Florence Nightingale said, “Apprehension, uncertainty, waiting, expectation, fear of surprise, do a patient more harm than any exertion.” Who would have thought  I'd wake up every day thinking along the same lines as Florence Nightingale? But the truth is, when you have a devastating personal experience, you can't help but imagine the next person walking in your shoes, and want that person to feel comforted, safe and in control when you or your loved one did not.

Ken Schwartz learned this. He was a lawyer working in health care. forty years old and married with a young son when he got devastating news out of the blue: advanced lung cancer. He’d smoked an occasional cigarette in college and law school, but he had been living a smoke-free, healthy lifestyle since then. As he wrote in the Boston Globe, early on in the diagnosis and treatment process:

 …the nurse was cool and brusque, as if I were just another faceless patient. But once the interview began, and I told her that I had just learned that I probably had advanced lung cancer, she softened, took my hand, and asked how I was doing. We talked about my two-year-old son, Ben, and she mentioned that her nephew was named Ben. By the end of our conversation, she was wiping tears from her eyes and saying that while she normally was not on the surgical floor, she would come see me before the surgery. Sure enough, the following day, while I was waiting to be wheeled into surgery, she came by, held my hand, and, with moist eyes, wished me luck…

Ken Schwartz

      This small gesture was powerful; my apprehension gave way to a much-needed moment of calm. Looking back, I realize that in a high-volume setting, the high-pressure atmosphere tends to stifle a caregiver’s inherent compassion and humanity. But the briefest pause in the frenetic pace can bring out the best in a caregiver, and do much for a terrified patient…I cannot emphasize enough how meaningful it was to me when caregivers revealed something about themselves that made a personal connection to my plight. It made me feel much less lonely. The rulebooks, I’m sure, frown on such intimate engagement between caregiver and patient. But maybe it’s time to rewrite them.[i]

Ken Schwartz died of lung cancer less than a year after his diagnosis. But his legacy lives on in the foundation he started shortly before his death, the Schwartz Center for Compassionate Healthcare at Massachusetts General Hospital. Dedicated to strengthening the relationships between patients and caregivers, it also stands as a poignant testament to the power of the human touch, and human kindness, in affirming our basic humanity.

The projects on Medstartr.com above reflect and affirm this basic humanity. Others you'll find there--IT solutions and technologies, for instance-- also serve this goal. We can’t ensure a nurse is always there to comfort us, or a physician has the time to really listen, but solutions that carve out cost efficiencies, inform patients, cut wait times, and make critical information easier to find just might free up more bandwidth for our providers to focus more on the human needs of the person in front of them. That could do a lot to reduce a patient’s apprehension, uncertainty and fear.

Florence Nightingale would certainly approve. And if  Medstartr projects had existed in her day, she’d probably find a way to fund them. 

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[i] Ken Schwartz, “A Patient’s Story” Boston Globe Magazine, July 16, 1995.