My husband and one of my children love tradition and for things to stay the same.  I, on the other hand, love change,  I like to shake up the status quo to see if it make me think differently.  I like to create annual customs instead of repeating the same thing as last year.  But, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that my desire to shift things about really stresses other people out. 

Changes in the workplace — even small ones — seem to create drama.  Last week, i suggested to some colleagues that we could track their work better so that they could better understand where critical resources were being spent.  One person thought that was great - two others thought I had clearly lost my mind.  So we made some little changes — for now — because the big changes were just too much for them to handle.

Changes to team dynamics are fascinating to watch.  Just watch the politics when a new player is added to a sports team — or a new colleague joins the workplace — or a new pet joins the family (the hamster/guinea pig dynamics are something to behold).

Never mind if you try and switch up the holiday plans.  I really wanted to go somewhere warm for Thanksgiving…okay Christmas…New Year’s?  You guessed it, none of the above.  The little one would have none of it.  Who would cook the turkey? Where would Santa drop the gifts?  Where would we light the menorah?  The stress was too much to bear.

So, rather than stress anyone out, each year I indulge my need for change with new hair.  This year, a backward look at what I think is my original color (hard to say as it’s been a while since I’ve seen it).  While I resolve to try and keep other’s stress to a minimum in the new year, I still have to indulge my need for change and wish everyone out there a Happy New Hair! 

What kind of world is it when a government regulatory body denies someone 6 months of additional life — because they can’t sanction payment for a life-saving drug?  That’s exactly what NICE (National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence) in Britain said to Bruce Hardy, a British citizen dying from kidney cancer.  And, Mr. Hardy is not alone.  Throughout Europe, countries are making similar decisions about what kind of care patients can get and countries can afford to give.  Make no mistake, this is not an issue that will remain in Europe.  Managed care proiders and other insurers make these decisions daily…and so will our government.

It’s easy to blame drug manufacturers for “charging too much.” But, as we’ve talked about in prior posts, it’s not that simple.  The process of true drug discovery and innovation is expensive.  It’s easy to blame payors — government or private — for not making humane decisions.  But, that’s too pat a response as well.  Money is tight.  Cuts need to be made and the more expenive treatments are often the most innovative and life-saving.

Here’s the answer…we need to become a nation of savers…not just from a financial perspective but from a health perspecive.  The vast majority of Americans are born healthy. But, through poor lifestyle decisions, over-indulgence, stress, lack of exercise, lack of sleep, we chip away at our health.  We don’t store up wellness for a rainy day.  We don’t take the steps needed to help our bodies through rough times or prevent the onslaught of disease.  And then, when we resort to medications to protect the hearts that were once strong, clear the excess sugar from our bloodstream, minimize damage to blood vessels from plaque and high blood pressure, we erode the healthcare coffers of our personal fortunes and the nation’s as well.  And, we complain about the cost.

If we want to fund innovative medicines with government support, we have to stop being wasteful withtheir resources.  If we want to have access to lifesaving medications and devices when our bodies are attacked by the unpreventable scourges of disease or simply the wear and tear of a long life well lived, then we have to do our part to reduce the expenditures on those conditions that are preventable.  We have to invest in our health by protecting it.

The good news is that wellness is less costly — personally as well as to payors, employers and governments — than illness. 

Wellness is as inexpensive as employers negotiating healthful options in their subsidized cafeterias. 

Wellness is as thrifty as a 30-minute walk during lunch hours or after dinner. 

Wellness is as economically sound as stress reduction classes in the workplace or yoga in your living room. 

Wellness is school nurses having sunscreen for recess and hand sanitizer in the classroom.

Wellness is a commitment that pays off.  The reduced spend on docor visits, medications and medical procedures positively impacts our personal pocketbooks, our employers resources and the government’s ability to say “yes” to Bruce Hardy.  It just means we have to say “no” to those things we know deplete our personal health resources and “yes” to those things that fund our health bank.

A historic week it was indeed.  Regardless of your politics, you couldn’t help but be moved by the symbolism of the first person of color becoming president.  Were the campaign to have worked out differently, it could have been about the first woman in office and the symbolism and historic impact would have been just as great.  But what was fascinating to watch was my children and their friends be less impressed by the enormity of either of those scenarios than their parents.  And in an odd way, that is symbolic too.  My children and their friends understand it is a historic first.  And, yes, having learned about the civil rights movement and Rosa Parks and Dr. King, they theoretically understand that the United States was once quite different than it is right now.  But, they don’t really get how enormous it truly is. 

In our school system, parents are encouraged to teach music in the classroom to supplement the music the children get as part of the regular curriculum.  Back when my eldest son was in 2nd grade (about 5 years ago), I was asked if I could approach music in the classroom with an eye toward celebrating the end of Black History month and the beginning of Women’s History month — so I combined music with  discussion that began with Duke Ellington and ended with Aretha.  We talked to the kids about how difficult it was for Black musicians to get club dates or hotel rooms when they traveled.  We talked about how women earned so much less than men.  We played music and ended with a rousing, chairs as drums, performance of RESPECT that resulted in the teacher across the hall chastising us all!  As fun as all that was, the best was the moment when one of the little girls, full of righteous indignation upon hearing how tough things were for Duke and other Black musicians as well as women who sought equality, stood up on her chair and said “What do we do about this?!?”  At the time I said, “we’re still working on it.”

My kids and their friends know women who are CEOs and earn more than many of the men around them.  They have a neighbor who started the first black-owned investment bank.  Their friends are boys and girls of many races, nationalities, religions and genders.  They also know white women who clean homes for a living and white men who are landscapers and handymen.    It is as natural for them to assume success for a person of color as it is for them to assume success for themselves.  And, that is wonderful.  And, it is not how it is everywhere.  But it is certainly much better than how it was when I was a child.

The big historic moment is wonderful and worthy of celebration and reflection.   But the little steps…those that got most of our children to take the election of a person of color to the highest office in our nation as part of the natural order…are worthy of reflection and celebration too.

Back in May, I presented at career day for the third-graders.  I was warned by my then third-grader that I couldn’t come unless I shared “cool stuff” as opposed to the boring stuff he thinks I do most of the time.  So, I approached my cooler colleagues and gathered case histories and collateral for work we do for a shoe/sporting good manufacturer, a fast food restaurant, a camera company — the cooler stuff.  The third-graders asked great questions but the most interesting discussions were centered around how much celebrities charged to help on the campaigns and that the kids thought it was okay for the celebrities to get paid “because everyone knows that they don’t do it for free.”

For many reasons, I’m delighted to learn that the big pharmaceutical companies like Merck and Eli Lilly are now going to disclose payments to physicians, CME grants etc.  (www.pharmalot.com), but one clear reason for my appreciation of this long overdue news is that “we all know doctors get paid.”   Pretending they didn’t created unnecessary skepticism for an industry that does far more good than harm.    I never quite understood why it was a secret in the past. 

I know that there was the worry that reputation would be damaged because the public or other stakeholders would not understand the nature of the payments but let’s face it, keeping that information under wraps didn’t exactly protect their reputations and by the way, why was there anything to hide?  Fees paid to physicians for their insight, counsel, expertise are fair and appropriate.  Lending their credibility and expertise to the sharing of information through publication or medical education is really no different than a celebrity lending their cool factor to a product they use and believe in. 

To assume a spokesperson fee or the costs associated with a clinical trial results in bad medicine is a blanket indictment that is neither fair nor logical.  Most people don’t lend their names and reputation to something they don’t believe in.  Most doctors didn’t attend medical school with the hope of becoming a spokesperson…they did it because they wanted to practice good medicine, create breakthroughs for hard to treat diseases or improve quality of life for chronically ill patients.  Sure, there are some bad apples, as in any industry, who let dollars influence behavior to the detriment of patients — but not most — not even close.  But these are not new insights.  It’s the factual message that pharma has tried to relay for years — to deaf ears.

So, why am I so delighted that they have publicly announced disclosure plans?  Because now, we can move on to what really matters — finding a way for this industry to continue to provide breakthrough science to manage disease for as many people as possible.  Some would argue that the fees paid to doctors are more about marketing than fighting disease — could be.  But, without that physician/industry engagement, the breakthroughs are impossible to achieve.   And, I for one, will be happy to know that the company innovating a new solution has engaged expert physicians to vet the studies, study the product in clinical practice and educate their peers on appropriate use. 

I did the unthinkable Saturday evening.  I agreed with the nine-year-old when he said “he stunk” in his basketball game.  Okay, tell me where i go for the public flogging for telling my child that he was less than perfect.  But, I’d do it again.

The nine-year-old is a VERY good basketball player.  He actually had two games on Saturday.  He was great in the first game, doing everything he’s practiced, listened to the coach, created opportunities for teammates to shine and as a result, shone himself.  By the second game, at the end of the day, he lost interest, steam…who knows.  But, he didn’t play well.  So, when he moped off the court at the end of the game and flung himself in the chair next to me exclaiming, “I stunk.”  I said, “yep, not your best day.”  He was a little shocked but then we talked about what happened, and we moved on.  We won’t know if acknowledging that he didn’t do well will matter…we’ll see in the next game but i didn’t see any value in pretending when he knew it wasn’t his best effort.

I believe in being honest when someone hasn’t done their best…at home and at work.  To do anything else is to underestimate the individual in question.  They know when they’ve done their best and when they haven’t.  I believe that if you take the time to be unemotional but honest with them, discuss what didn’t work and why and then talk about how to do it differently next time, they usually take it to heart and improve. 

Too often, we miss the opportunities to help someone improve because giving the tough input is too hard, or it makes us unpopular, or someone pouts and makes us uncomfortable.  I can attest to the unpopular bit.  For years at work, I gave the thorough reviews — good and bad — and delivered the tough news.  In contrast, my colleagues were saying everything was okay even as clients were complaining abut the quality of work and haphazard team performance.  The result was that I ended up with a reputation that ranges from “tough but fair” on good days to a version of “witch” among those who were less appreciative of the feedback. 

Now, I will admit that early on, i was better at giving negative feedback than I was at balancing it with positive and constructive forward looking advice.  I also tended to take other people’s errors as personal sleights…as if their mistake was my failing.  However,  I was fortunate enough to have managers who gave me lots of “constructive” feedback and while it may not have felt good in the moment, I look back on that criticism as a gift.  By pointing out where I made a mistake, all they really did was put a sharp point on something I already knew — but didn’t yet have the courage to acknowledge. Their input forced me to see that I could do better and furthermore, forced me to choose between trying to correct my mistakes or ignoring them and hoping no one else would notice.

This morning, the nine-year-old was telling his brother about the basketball game and good naturedly said “I stunk up the court…but that’s the last time I’ll do that this season,” and bounced into breakfast singing Miley Cyrus’ “Nobody’s Perfect.”  Message heard? We’ll see.

This day, seven years ago, I sat on the train to work thinking about the cupcakes and goody bags I needed to finalize for my 5 year old’s birthday party that coming Saturday.  I had “call the snake guy to tell him it will be 10 kids not 8″ on my to-do list.  And then, the joyfully mundane changed forever.  Suffice it to say, the birthday party went on, with 3 fewer kids — they each lost a Dad — but nothing else remained the same.

It’s not just about the extra time at the airport or that underlying sense of vulnerability that crops up if you listen to the news or talk radio for too long, it’s the feeling that every day matters.  I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that I became better at prioritizing work and life at about that time. Yes, life got busier.  In addition to the 5 year old, there was a 2 year old but frankly, it was more about the desire to be with them because — you never know when you might not be able to be with them.

I’ve watched my friends — more personally and profoundly touched by 9/11 — find ways to balance and juggle and move on with grace to give their children security and find joy for themselves. Unwitting role models, they also have impacted how I manage my day-to-day and balance what matters with what doesn’t.  They have changed the way i live my life as much as anthing that happened in the skies that day seven years ago.

I know that on this anniversary day, I woke up with much the same to-do list on my mind as I did on that fateful morning.  He’s 12 not 5 but there’s still a party to be planned and a cake to be picked up.  There’s a long to-do list at work and meetings that I know will last longer than what’s on my calendar. I’m wondering when i’ll be able to squeeze in getting party things done. 

But, that’s not all that’s on my mind.  I’m remembering that day 7 years ago — and I’m certain I am not alone in my thoughts and rememberances.

So, answer this…is there a reason why New York Times didn’t think it worth covering except with an editorial about the politics over the constructon on the memorial site?  I’m not sure that day taught them much of anything at all about what really matters.

Every workplace should have a “first day of school.”  A day when everyone comes in bright and shiny and eager to do their best.  Ready to make new friends.  Pencils new and sharpened.  Work spaces organized and fresh.  Everyone dressed in their favorite new outfit.

Imagine if after that “first day” work day, people buckled down to their new project intent on delivering their very best work the way my 7th grader attacked his first reading assignment today. 

Imagine if everyone rushed home to tell their families about this great new colleague they are going to work with on a great new assignment like my 4th grader did today after realizing that most of his class were kids he’d never really gotten to know in the past.  But, boy was he excited about those new friends!  He was designing kick-ball games and recess football with each of their attributes in mind!

Imagine if after that “first day” work day colleagues came to work the next day with assignments done ahead of schedule, eager to start the next — yes, that 7th grade life sciences poster is done! It’s not due until Monday ?!? 

Yes, I know.  Even if we could have that “first day” work day, it wouldn’t last, just like my children’s extremely eager — and somewhat strange — behavior won’t last either.  But, it sure is infectious.  After all, I’ve written twice in two days — and that’s never happened!

That’s the question that the media says that lots of moms are asking about Sarah Palin?  After all, she’s got 5 children, one of whom is a pregnant teenager and another, a relative newborn with special needs. 

But you kow what’s funny, I talked with lot of women about Sarah Palin this weekend and this is not the question we focused on.  We talked about her level of experience  We talked about how “relatable” she is.  We talked about her speaking ability and her level of foreign policy know-how.  But, we never talked about how she’d juggle the job and family. 

What kind of question is that, anyway?  Haven’t we proven that we can run companies, govern, fight crime, heal the sick, etc. without it resulting in maladjusted, neglected families? Has anyone asked Barak Obama that question?  After all, he has two young girls too.

How outraged would we be if that question was asked of a female colleague coming back from maternity leave? In fact, it’s a question that’s not ever voiced officially in the workplace because it’s not politically or human resources correct to do so. 

Granted, few of us are juggling motherhood and the vice presidency of a country but I venture to guess Ms. Palin won’t be cleaning the vice president’s mansion or doing the grocery shopping or baking cupcakes for the class party either.  And, yes, she might miss a few of those PTA meetings that played so heavily into the evolution of her political career.  But, so do I…and my kids do just fine.

And, while most of my working mother friends, not to mention I, have never had to juggle home and national security, we all have had the client crisis that made us choose between the pull of home and the pull of  work. 

We all have had to find a way to be there and here at the same time without either place feeling a loss of our presence. 

We all have mastered the multitask and some of us have even figured out how to do all of that and keep the roots to a 1/2-inch.

And, never mind how adept we are at finding the shortest route between here and there so that business trips are effective but not even a blip on the family radar.

So, maybe as we’re thinking about what to expect — or not expect — from Ms. Palin, we should rewrite the questions.    It’s less about “how is she going to do it?” and more “how much of what we need can she do?”

Yesterday was my friend’s birthday — I always remember it because it falls two days before mine.  As is typical with this very busy friend — who used to be my boss — we scheduled a lunch to celebrate our mutual birthdays but, guess what, we had to reschedule.  This time it was my fault — a client need.  But, it could just as easily have gone the other way.  But, here’s what I would have told her had I been able to see her…

I loved working with you…most days.  You were enthusiastic…I mean truly excited about every single opportunity and decision we needed to make.  I didn’t always understand why we needed to care as much about the color of a brochure as we did about a client’s true crisis but you seemed to care equally and passionately about it all.  That passion was infectious.  It kept me on my toes and made me try harder…sometimes, just to impress you!  The days that I didn’t enjoy were more about me being uncertain that I could live up to those expectations.  Yo always seemed to cavalierly believe that people would align behind an idea and achieve success and that I’d be able to get them there.  I just never had the same confidence.  It always seemed so hard to negotiate priorities.  And, frankly, I hated that I might have to compromise to make something work. 

I was thinking about you the other day — birthdays aside — when I was listenting to a colleague’s righteous indignation about a situation in our current workplace.  One that we can handle — through compromise and negotiation — even though we shouldn’t HAVE to handle it that way.  I am certain that the look on my face throughout was exactly how you used to look at me.  Amused tolerance.  You always let me rant about what should be but then took me to an alternate place.  Frankly, it used to drive me crazy!  Why was it so easy for you and so much harder for me to let go of what should be?

Because you didn’t waste your passion on the uncontrollable. 

I think you taught me that by focusing our energy on those things we can impact — the color of the brochure or the content of our counsel to a client — we have reservoirs of passion to unleash on the rest of our lives.  And, when I remember, it’s much more fun your way.

Happy birthday, my friend…many more.   

I read today that in an effort to promote its new fall lines — Dorm Life and Fabulosity — J.C. Penney launched an online game called “DorkDodge,” in which a girl has to get through a throng of not boyfriend material boys to get to her dream date.  Wasn’t this a board game when I was maybe nine?  And the boys weren’t real, as I recall.  I’m a little frightened and very glad I don’t have daughters. 

I have no doubt that some girls will play this game (But high school girls? What about their Dorm Life target? Is that younger than high school? Because, really, I think it’s a middle school and younger group that will actually play) …and it will give the retailer the opportunity to showcase their line to some young group of girls but will it sell clothes?   And if it does sell clothes, what message is it sending?

Here I go getting all Girl Power-ish over what is likely harmless marketing fun but the whole Dream Date as marketing vehicle is uncomfortable to me.  I’d like to think about girls looking for Dream Careers or Dream Causes or …well Dreams.  And, what message are we sending when the oppsite of Dream Date is Dork.  It will be interesting to see what the retailer defines as Dork.

There are so many uplifting and empowering “games” that could have been offered.  Some of them could actually be fun – and put girls on the right path– a path not solely defined by buying clothes that some boy might like.  Imagine an online game themed “World Peace for a Day” that let her try on different political perspectives to see their impact on current world issues…

Or “The Online Game of Life,” a game that let her choose two paths so she could see potential outcomes of her life decisions.  I wish the retailer had thought of games that would teach girls about their power beyond their sexuality and about buying clothes that make them feel like their very best selves…which hopefully they can discover when not dodging Dorks.