Like so many of you, my heart breaks at the loss of Tim Russert. On so many levels, we felt a kinship to him. Anyone who has tried to understand American politics or politicians during the past 20 years has gotten to know Tim Russert, as if he were the trusted friend and neighbor who could help us “get” it.

Our world is now less because we don’t have Tim. And It occurs to me that there are some final lessons we can learn about healthcare from him. Just as he helped us understand politics, he can help us better understand healthcare and a healthy life — as follows:

It turns out that Tim was quite watchful over his heart disease. He had been diagnosed, and was under a doctor’s care. He took his meds, he watched his diet, he exercised, and he got his regular check ups. He was a vigilant patient. Our lesson: being a vigilant patient, doing our best to prevent problems, following all the rules for good health, doesn’t mean life won’t still be too short.

We’ve learned that no matter how many studies exist, no matter what tests can be run, no matter what drugs are available, no matter how well we manage our diets and exercise, there are aspects of a body’s function that just can’t be controlled. Our lesson: Medical science still has a very long way to go.

We’ve learned that good quality medical care doesn’t always translate to a longer healthier life. Yes, I think that over a population of people, better care equals a longer life — BUT — Tim had the best care available in this country, and he died way too young, in his prime. Perhaps without that good care, he would have died even younger? We’ll never know… Our lesson: having good medical care is a plus, but it’s only one tool in determining longevity.

We’ve learned that even the best medical care can’t make up for 1) bad genes or 2) bad choices or 3) extreme stress — any or all. What we don’t know is whether Tim was a smoker when he was younger, or whether he survived on hamburgers and greasy pizza before he turned 55. We don’t know if there was heart disease in his family. We can assume his life was quite stressful. Our lesson: we can’t expect medical miracles to overcome bad genes, heavy stress or bad choices.

Tim taught us that we just never know when our final moment will be — and we need to be prepared. His family was the most important part of his life. He left this world making sure they knew exactly how much he loved them — his dad, his wife and his son. Our lesson: At any moment in life, be sure those you love know just how much you love them. It’s important for your own health, and their health and well-being, too.

Tim had very strong spiritual beliefs, and surrounded himself with spiritual people. In the difficult times, believing in a higher being can be very comforting. His family will find some comfort in the coming years based on that faith, too. Our lesson: Life can be enhanced, health can be supported, and comfort can be found through spiritual beliefs.

Finally, we’ve learned from Tim that one’s legacy is about character and a zestful approach to life. We have to believe that in that instant the heart attack struck, when his life passed before him, he knew it was all good, and he would not have changed one moment of who he was, who he loved, what he had accomplished, and the experiences he had enjoyed. Our lesson: live life to its fullest, with spirit, grace, and zest.

My prayers are with his family — His dad Big Russ, his wife Maureen, his son Luke, and his co-workers at NBC. We were all lucky to have him while we did. And we can all thank him for these final lessons about living a quality — and healthy — life.

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Those of you who follow my blog know that I’m a fan of Randy Pausch, like so many others. I first blogged about him last September, after watching his Lecture of a Lifetime — what he has learned in his too-short years, and the legacy he wants to leave his wife and children. As I said then, I felt his remarks were simply brilliant, and brilliantly simple.

[If you haven't heard of this fine man, you should know that in August 2007, he was given up to six months to live. He is dying of pancreatic cancer, a swift killer with very few who survive it more than a few months once it's diagnosed.]

Then in February I posted an update with a link to his personal blog. It has been one of the most linked-to posts I’ve ever written here.

I learned Randy appeared on Oprah today. That means that people who had not heard of Randy, and his “lecture of a lifetime” before today have certainly heard of him now.

I didn’t see Oprah, but I did decide I needed to check back in with this remarkable man. On his personal blog I found a link to the video of his address to the Carnegie-Mellon Class of 2008. (As an aside, I’m proud to say that my closest friend’s son, named Tim, was a top engineering graduate at Carnegie Tech this year — you go, Tim!)

Just like any of the other appearances of Randy’s I’ve witnessed, his graduation speech was moving; moving to the point that you just wish — just WISH — and hope and pray that his death is a loooong time coming from now. He is so generous with his words of wisdom. He needs more time to share them all.

He made two excellent points for the rest of us:

• When we are on our deathbeds, it won’t be the things we did that we regret. It will be the things we didn’t do.
• To live your best life, find your passion — the thing that fuels you from the inside. You won’t find it in things you buy or own. You’ll find it will be grounded in other people.

Since first discovering Dr. Pausch last year, I’ve felt a bit of a kinship. Unless you’ve ever heard that death sentence (you have only six months to live) you can’t really relate to it. But if you have heard it? You discover there is a very strong tie that binds you to that person — and I feel that tie with Randy Pausch.

Take the six minutes to watch his commencement address. It will stay with you, as I hope it will stay with those many graduates of Carnegie Mellon who were lucky enough to have known Dr. Randy Pausch, even if it was only for those few minutes at commencement.

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I spent a few hours yesterday with a delightful team of people who YOU should get to know, too.

Meg, Pauline and Blake are traversing the country this summer in a big blue bus (they call it the blue beast!) in the Cover America Tour. Sponsored by Consumers Union (the Consumer Reports folks) it is intended to help you tell your story of whatever run-ins you’ve had with the American healthcare system through videos that will be shared with others.

The goal? To make the case that the system is broken, needs fixing, and to get some real dialog going on how to do that. We’re past the lip service part. We need action!

So here’s how it works, and how you can participate:

If you have a story to tell that highlights the breakdowns in the system — a medical error, a misdiagnosis, an inability to afford your care, an insurance nightmare, or whatever it might be…. link to the map of the Cover America Tour and see if they will be anywhere near you. Meg tells me the map will be updated every couple of weeks as they continue making their plans. Their plans change every day as they hear from new people who want to be interviewed — and if you have a good story that should be included, they’ll stop in your town to meet you.

Here’s how to let them know who you are, and why you want to participate: Share Your Story

The tour runs from now through mid-September, so keep an eye. I will update my email list every couple of weeks on upcoming locations. If you would like to be included, then sign up to receive notices. (If you are already on my list, you don’t need to sign up again.)

And if you are contacted? how about coming back here to let us know — we’ll link to your story online.

Safe travels and godspeed to Meg, Pauline and Blake. It’s a wonderful thing they are doing — committing months of their lives, away from their loved ones, to help us all.

I’ve been reminded twice in the last two days about the oncologist who was a part of my misdiagnosis story. He’s a big part of it; if he hadn’t been such an arrogant SOB, then I probably would not have changed careers to help other patients help themselves.

But most days I don’t even think about him. So two reminders in two days? That’s a double whammy.

The first came yesterday as I participated in the Susan G. Komen breast cancer Race for the Cure. There were almost 8,000 participants, among them several hundred breast cancer survivors. I had the opportunity to speak to a handful of them, and when they were particularly happy about how successful their treatment was, i would ask them who their doctors were.

One woman shared a litany of doctor’s names, among them was the same oncologist I had dealt with. She spoke in glowing terms about all the other doctors, but his name was just a part of the list. Nothing good to say — he was just a participant.

I didn’t comment. I didn’t ask her about her experience with him. I have never shared his name publicly because my goal has never to cast dispersions on him personally. I will confess, however, that if someone is seeking a new oncologist for a second opinion, or for referral purposes, and they have told me he is under consideration, then yes — I have shared my experience. Have I had an influence on which patients have chosen to see him? Yes, I’m sure I have — but not much of one.

Then this morning, I found this article from the New York Times, entitled, “Doctor’s Start to Say ‘I’m Sorry’ Long Before ‘See You in Court.’ And there it is again — that feeling…. argh. He held my life in his hands, and he was so ready to treat me with deadly chemicals for no reason….

One aspect of my dealings with him continues to confound me. He never apologized.

Once my misdiagnosis was proven by the National Institutes of Health, I contacted all the doctors who had participated in the odyssey. Of those who had made mistakes and contributed to the errors, I asked for apologies. I made it clear I was not interested in lawsuits.

All the doctors who had contributed to the mistakes apologized — except the oncologist. In fact, he sent me a long letter outlining why he had done the right things. Never mind the fact that he had never read the results of lab tests indicating one more test was being run — yet he had never looked at the results. Never mind the fact that when I told him I wanted another opinion, his answer to me was “what you have is so rare, no one will know anymore about it than I do!”

There is much in the medical literature these days about the positive outcomes when doctors own up to the mistakes they’ve made. This article from the NY Times is one example. Patients heal better, fewer lawsuits are filed, there are so very many aspects of improved health and service that come as a result of professionals taking responsibility.

It’s too bad for this particular doctor that his ego won’t allow him to do the right thing. On the other hand — had he been more forthcoming, perhaps I would not have been angry enough to make sure these kinds of problems wouldn’t happen to other patients?

We’ll never know. But I sure as heck hope that, as time goes on, he’ll realize his ego is getting in the way of his competency. A good doctor is a decent human being, too. In my opinion? Until he learns to own up to mistakes, he’s not much of doctor.

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