We can all remember our first car. Not the family station wagon. Not the hand-me-down from big brother that smelled like musky gym clothes. I’m talking about the first car that was entirely yours, even if it was used or “pre-owned” as car dealerships like to say.
A mid-1980s Honda Civic via WikiCommons
I was 26 when I purchased my very own brand new car. It was a 1986 Honda Civic wagon and I loved it. No air conditioner, no frills, vinyl seats and 48 mpg. Those were the days. I would drive from Salt Lake to Jackson Hole and back on one tank of gas. I would drive to San Diego, stopping every 40 miles to douse myself at the rest-stop water fountains during those 102-degree desert stretches, then drive soaked from head to foot with the windows down. Now that was air conditioning.
Imagine my excitement when I bought a new Ford Escape Limited in 2004. It was the second time in my life I’d bought a brand new car rather than used pre-owned. I knew the saying that once you drive it off the showroom floor, the car’s value drops 99%. I didn’t care. I was in fact overly proud of the purchase. As the old saying goes, pride goeth before a fall.
The Ford Escape AKA Mouse Mobile
The Escape was only two days old when I drove my two toddlers to the grocery store. Somehow, an entire jug of milk was spilled between the seats during a backseat conspiracy to search the grocery bags for cookies. I spent 2 hours scrubbing, spraying, rubbing and generally assaulting the area with cleansers. The smell of sour milk never left the vehicle. It was an omen.
One after another, horrible things happened in the Escape. A completely potty-trained child thoroughly wet his pants. Dogs threw up. A cat leaped onto my lap and peed while I was driving. Moldering carrots were found under the passenger seat. A slice of pizza worked its way into the spare tire well and grew fabulous green feathers.
Just before the Plague of Rodents commenced, I had what I thought was the capper to all of this evil. While driving my son’s friend home from a playdate, the cherub told me from the backseat that he needed to go number two. I asked him if I should pull over or if he could hold it until the upcoming gas station. He felt that he could wait. Two seconds later, he said “oh no” and then the fun began. My son caught a whiff and immediately vomited. Twice. I rolled down the windows. I opened the sunroof. I looked back to assess the damage and was struck by a force stronger than a tidal wave. We drove the rest of the way with our heads out the windows, tears streaming down our cheeks. I was triple charged for the car detailing.
Then came the Plague. It started with a few tiny droppings here and there on the car mats. I’d set a trap inside my car, catch a mouse and go on about my business. Then I noticed more droppings. I worked up to 4 traps placed at night and 4 mice in traps in the morning. I detailed. I vacuumed. I squirted VO5 hairspray. I tried sonic sound waves. I put bars of Irish Spring under the seats. The mice ate them.
Finally, I removed all of the interior side panels, trying to find the rodent welcome mat. Caches of seeds, dog kibble and fluffy mouse nests poured from every possible crevice. Entire generations of field mice had wandered about, given birth, raised families and died in my car. I admitted defeat and felt grateful that no one in our family had been struck with Hantavirus. Accursed vehicle. Stephen King could write a book about it.
The Mousemobile found a new home with a family that apparently does not have a battalion of mice seeking a motel on wheels. I gave full disclosure prior to handing over the keys. Buh bye.
Guess what I’m driving now? A used Honda Civic wagon. With air conditioning.
This is not your average healthcare CEO article. I won’t trot out numbers, stats and confusing lingo. I’ll only use the word “metrics” once, and instead of looking back, I’m going to tell you what Teton Valley Health Care plans to accomplish in 2015 as we work toward becoming the one of the best rural hospitals in the U.S.
In 2015, you can look forward to online access to your medical records, treatment plans and prescriptions through the implementation of our new patient portal. Through this portal, you’ll also be able to tell us how you’d prefer to receive messages, when you need prescription refills and reminders for follow-up care. Online payments and a review of your prior bills will also be available.
We’ll respond to your needs by adding services that make sense for our community. Currently, we can all benefit from 24/7 consultations with University of Utah Health Center stroke and burn specialists through our portable telemedicine robot. In the New Year, we’ll add tele-adolescent psychiatry and hopefully tele-oncology. We also want to add new clinic service lines, such as dermatology.
You’ll see interior changes in our clinics and hospital as we continue to press ahead with our design goal to reflect a healing environment for our patients, their families and friends. Changes will include a more natural design theme and room renovations that will make navigation easier for patients and providers.
We’re also determined to provide more services at a “one-price-covers-all” cost. This is difficult for hospitals because everybody is physically different and many times when a surgeon or physician has begun a procedure, other issues are discovered that need to be taken care of. For now, you can check out our new bundled pricing for colonoscopies and upper GI screenings at tvhcare.org. We’ll add more of this type of pricing throughout 2015.
Similar to the saying that good things come in small packages, I believe that Teton Valley is fortunate to have a small hospital that offers impressive medical and nursing staff, round-the-clock emergency care, a menu of carefully selected services and technology that rivals or exceeds the capabilities available at some larger hospitals. After giving numerous tours of our facility to outside hospital leaders, specialists and providers from large healthcare organizations, I’ve learned to anticipate their expressions of surprise and some envy when they see – for example – our X-ray and surgical suites, laboratory equipment and digital mammography room.
What services, changes and improvements do you want to see at your community hospital? Let us know by calling me at 354-6355, email email@example.com or comment on our Facebook page. TVHC tweets, pins, FBs and blogs, too, in an effort to continually offer access and information for everyone. We invite you to be a part of moving TVHC from better to the very best.
Anyone can come up with at least one thing that wakes them up in the middle of the night. Barking dogs, thunderstorms, nightmares and so on.
I recently had an unusual wake-up call at 5:15 a.m. when I opened my eyes to a sudden painful scrunching in my left chest area. Not wanting to disturb the peaceful slumber of the two cats and husband beside me, I told myself to breathe calmly, deeply, and (hopefully) continuously. I soon felt a mighty thump in my chest, a release of the squeezing feeling and a burst of warmth flowing to the ends of my toes and fingertips.
So I rested there for about an hour, telling myself to relax relax relax, there was nothing to be concerned about, no need to elbow my husband or nudge the drooling cats off the side of the bed. After all, it was highly unlikely that I was having a heart attack of any type because – well – because I don’t have heart attacks. Then I started ticking off the facts of my basic profile:
That’s five out of five. What would an intelligent person do at this point of realization?
I decided to ignore all of the medical information about heart attack symptoms that I know very well because I’m a healthcare marketer so it’s my job to tell people to get immediate medical assistance if there’s even a miniscule chance that they’re having a heart attack. I fell into the high percentage pool of people who think that it would be terribly embarrassing to call 911 or be driven to the ER, only to discover that the problem was a panic attack or heartburn. After all, what could be worse: dying of a heart attack or having a doctor tell you that you’re not having a heart attack? Ummm …
Anna Gunderson PA-C chastised me gently but thoroughly during my clinic appointment at 10am that morning, reminded me that “time is muscle” and that I should have come to the ER via driver or ambulance, and by the way, shouldn’t I know better?
At the end of the day, my lab tests, an EKG and chest X-ray indicated that I hadn’t suffered a cardiac event. My rheumatologist suspected pericarditis brought on by systemic lupus. While I felt somewhat relieved, I was also smacked with the reality that I could have a heart attack and that in fact, many of my friends and acquaintances could have a heart attack at any moment and need to have their lives saved by the very people with whom I work.
I’m making a donation today to our hospital foundation’s campaign to raise funds to buy a Zoll defibrillator unit for our ambulance and a cardiopulmonary DASH monitor for our E.R. I discovered that last year alone, our current E.R. DASH monitor system assisted 126 people in cardiac distress and almost 500 people with respiratory ailments.
Please consider supporting this campaign for acquiring this essential equipment and who knows? It just might save your life.