A Glimpse into a Physician's Day, According to a Non-Clinical Health Care MBA: A Satirical Take

At 3:30 a.m., my alarm sounds, marking the start of my unpaid pre-work charting session. These early hours, devoid of sleep, remind me of the substantial student loan debt I acquired to have any semblance of rest obliterated. An unforeseen bonus of this process is the eradication of my ability to resist senseless administrative tasks.

As I dive into pre-charting, I imagine my family stirring, though my gaze remains fixed on the electronic health record (EHR). I'm entranced by the messages flooding my in-basket, each akin to the mythical hydra – as I address one, two more emerge. It's hypnotic. While my partner, whom I've scarcely encountered in daylight for over a decade, tends to our children and escorts them to school (or so I think), I'm ensnared in my devotion to the EHR. Oddly, I'm content in this role.

ADVERTISEMENT My clinic officially commences at 8:00 a.m., yet I arrive by 7:00 a.m., eager to confront the paperwork awaiting my attention. On my way, I encounter our department administrator and eagerly commit to every call shift available this month. Our newest colleague is on some form of extended leave, which we're assured is voluntary. I breathe in the aroma of freshly faxed insurance denials that grace my desk.

Within fifteen minutes of seeing patients, I'm interrupted for my first prior authorization denial appeal call. It's a role I've grown accustomed to – keeping people waiting is a physician's duty. My patients remain blissfully unaware of the intricate dance with insurance companies. I accept my role as a verbal punching bag for their frustrations. It's a lesson ingrained since medical school, and I remember to smile.

Noon arrives, and I'm logged into the mandatory physician wellness lunch hour webinar. Our hospital administrator has generously arranged for pizza to be delivered to our clinic – apparently, free pizza has mystical healing properties for doctors! I listen to the webinar, absorb mindfulness mantras, and respond to in-basket messages on my other screen. All while savoring the taste of that glorious pizza. Those wellness experts are truly ingenious.

With newfound mindfulness, the afternoon soars by. As I tackle three more prior authorization denial appeal calls, I understand the depth of my backlog. Strangely, this is liberating. It enables me to feign ignorance to the discontent of my patients. I engage in eye contact, extend smiles, and offer words of understanding.

When a new patient frets over their insurance provider's denial of universally accepted treatment for their condition, I reassure them. I pledge to tackle the denial mindfully, encapsulating a thirty-minute phone call within the five minutes allotted.

After a bustling clinic, a department meeting awaits. We discover that the understaffing issue is escalating, yet optimism prevails – we are resilient, or rather, res-eel-ee-ent. Together, we chant the word until its meaning fades into obscurity. The promise of more free pizza compensates for the challenges.

Amidst the meeting, our administrator mentions our Press Ganey scores. The pizza-induced stupor impedes my comprehension, and I manage only a nod as we're instructed to improve these scores or lose our coveted pizza privilege.

Post-meeting, I head home. Apologies abound as my spouse reveals the family had dinner earlier – and surprise, it was pizza!

The dog barks, its gaze dubiously scrutinizing me. I pause, realizing I might not recognize this dog at all. Perhaps the old one passed away, and my family introduced a new member without my knowledge. I bestow a piece of pizza upon the canine. A good dog indeed.

At the kitchen table, I open my laptop and access the EHR. My mindfulness must have waned, for when I look up, the house lies in silence, lights extinguished. Not wishing to rouse my spouse, I collapse on the couch. Eager anticipation fills me – I can't wait to awaken in three hours and begin anew. This existence is precisely what I envisioned during the arduous training of my twenties and thirties.

As slumber claims me, the chant "res-eel-ee-ent" echoes in my mind. My dreams are adorned with visions of pizza.