Virtual scribes revolutionize physician experiences.
Today was unprecedented. Our initial day as a team.
I and my "digital" scribe – a real individual who appears to dwell within my Jabra desk speaker, so discreet that I've mistakenly left it unmuted on a few occasions. The voice inside now knows my hair appointment duration and that it trumps my dental ones.
ADVERTISEMENT Physicians aren't infallible. We can be superficial, temperamental, anxious, fatigued, or even unwell.
In just a day, the voice brought to mind a bottled genie, akin to Aladdin’s or that in the TV classic, Bewitched.
"Need assistance with that note, doctor?" (Am I unintentionally mimicking Elizabeth Montgomery from Bewitched?)
"I noticed the CPT codes weren’t in the template. Want me to place them correctly?”
"Could you also get me a pink pony, Genie?”
This individual is swiftly becoming indispensable in my life. (A note to my spouse: I'm not running off with my genie. But on Maslow’s scale, the scribe holds a surprising spot.)
I hadn't grasped the weight of medical record keeping and its impact on my medical passion until now.
Yet, I'm not expecting a pink pony from him. Haven't broached the topic either.
Remarkably, the person in my Jabra is the sole work associate with no demands.
Having this observer heightened my consciousness of the daily chaos. As a doctor, I answer countless questions and solve problems amidst patient visits.
Knock knock: "Quick questions before it gets crazier. Mr. X misplaced his Depakote, or was it his clozapine? Insurance denied Mrs. Y’s prescription. The TMS machine could shut down the floor's power. ER needs you for Mr. X. Mrs. Z reports her daughter sounds "weary" post medication change. Your son’s camp reports a rash. The next two patients await.”
Throughout patient consultations, I'd ponder my scribe's thoughts. “Does Dr. Sepah realize Effexor isn’t causing her halitosis? Will this psychotic individual attack her before receiving the Paliperidone?”
Obviously, I'm clueless about his sentiments. Yet, his silent observance felt reflective. It was a novel perspective of my practice.
It felt supportive, not invasive. I sensed companionship amidst the constant professional demands.
Just as a tree's fall needs a witness for validation, his presence amplified my daily hustle's intensity. The physician's role is daunting, even with years of experience.
I wish I had this support earlier, especially when administrative tasks overshadowed clinical ones. A JAMA article highlighted physicians spending over 50 hours annually just logging onto EMRs. We silently adapt, doing more within the same timeframe, often sacrificing personal time.
Implementing this scribe in my clinic has been transformative, potentially recovering 10 hours weekly. A much-needed relief. I yearn for direct patient interactions without incessant clicks. Simplicity trumps elaborate “wellness programs.” Solutions like these are impactful.
The flaw isn’t with us doctors. We don’t require lessons in efficiency or resilience. Real issues reside in overarching systems. Addressing physician burnout shouldn’t solely focus on doctors.
Improving yoga poses won’t accelerate my charting or get Ms. Y her medication. Such issues drive my exhaustion.
Rarely do we physicians prioritize ourselves. For a fleeting moment, I feared I'd exhausted my wishes. Was my genie departing? Thankfully, my Jabra assured, “I'll be prepared for the next clinic, Doctor.”
