Letters from Maine

WOW! You spend that much time on the EHR?


 

Unlike many of you, maybe even most of you, I can recall when my office records were handwritten, some would say scribbled, on pieces of paper. They were decipherable by a select few. Some veteran assistants never mastered the skill. Pages were sometimes lavishly illustrated with drawings of body parts, often because I couldn’t remember or spell the correct anatomic term. When I needed to send a referring letter to another provider I typed it myself because dictating never quite suited my personality.

When I joined a small primary care group, the computer-savvy lead physician and a programmer developed our own homegrown EHR. It relied on scanning documents, as so many of us still generated handwritten notes. Even the most vociferous Luddites among us loved the system from day 2.

Dr. William G. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years.

Dr. William G. Wilkoff

However, for a variety of reasons, some defensible some just plain bad, our beloved system needed to be replaced after 7 years. We then invested in an off-the-shelf EHR system that promised more capabilities. We were told there would be a learning curve but the plateau would come quickly and we would enjoy our new electronic assistant.

You’ve lived the rest of the story. The learning curve was steep and long and the plateau was a time gobbler. I was probably the most efficient provider in the group, and after 6 months I was leaving the office an hour later than I had been and was seeing the same number of patients. Most of my coworkers were staying and/or working on the computer at home for an extra 2 hours. This change could be easily documented by speaking with our spouses and children. I understand from my colleagues who have stayed in the business that over the ensuing decade and a half since my first experience with the EHR, its insatiable appetite for a clinician’s time has not abated.

The authors of a recent article in Annals of Family Medicine offer up some advice on how this tragic situation might be brought under control. First, the investigators point out that the phenomenon of after-hours EHR work, sometimes referred to as WOW (work outside of work), has not gone unnoticed by health system administrators and vendors who develop and sell the EHRs. However, analyzing the voluminous data necessary is not any easy task and for the most part has resulted in metrics that cannot be easily applied over a variety of practice scenarios. Many health care organizations, even large ones, have simply given up and rely on the WOW data and recommendations provided by the vendors, obviously lending the situation a faint odor of conflict of interest.

The bottom line is that after a couple of decades, there is no well defined way of quantifying the time-gobbling effect of an EHR system. It would seem to me just asking the spouses and significant others of the clinicians would be sufficient. But, authors of the paper have more specific recommendations. First, they suggest that time working on the computer outside of scheduled time with patients should be separated from any other calculation of EHR usage. They encourage vendors and time-management researchers to develop standardized and validated methods for measuring active EHR use. And, finally they recommend that all EHR work done outside of time scheduled with patients be attributed to WOW. They feel that clearly labeling it work outside of work offers health care organizations a better chance of developing policies that will address the scourge of burnout.

This, unfortunately, is another tragic example of how clinicians have lost control of our work environments. The fact that 20 years have passed and there is still no standardized method for determining how much time we spend on the computer is more evidence we need to raise our voices.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.

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