I told a story this week that's very personal to me, one I actually tell pretty regularly. Eight months out of residency — good colleagues, work I loved, using my Spanish every day with patients — and I was still burned out. Charts on the couch every night, before my wife and I even had kids. She's the one who finally said, "Something has to change." What actually helped wasn't just working less, though that was part of it. It was rebuilding the workflows underneath — charting in the room with intention, letting go of the idea that every note has to be perfect instead of adequate, chipping away at backlogs in small sprints instead of trying to power through all at once. If any of that resonates, I've got more of this laid out in The Charting Mastery Guide — no pressure, just there if you want to go deeper: Instant Access Here Have a good weekend, |
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Heading into work this week, I wanted to remind myself of something simple: you can't do this alone, just like you can't do life alone. I can't do what I do in clinic without my team. So this week's encouragement isn't really for you to do anything differently in your own charting — it's to reflect on your team. Thank them. Write a note, give kudos, check in on your MAs, your nurses, your staff. Or just ask, "how are you really doing," and actually listen. Have a great day! Ryan
Monday mornings feel heavy sometimes. A certain amount of that's normal. But I think it's easy in medicine to lose sight of something underneath that heaviness — the privilege we actually have. Not to hit a certain number of visits, or generate a certain number of RVUs, or complete a certain number of procedures. To care for individual humans. Daughters. Sons. Mothers. Fathers. We get to meet them in a time of need. I'm saying this as much to remind myself as anyone reading this. See today as...
A colleague of mine — she sees adults, been doing primary care for a long time — told me something last week that's stuck with me. Her practice is scheduled out nine months right now. Nine months. She's wondering how she's even supposed to take care of her patients and see them back when they actually need to be seen. Here's the thing — she knows what good care looks like. She wants to give it. But the way things are currently built, the templates, the panel sizes, the choices made above her...