Wednesday, September 23, 2026

Jennie Willis Was a Nurse. Then Her Daughter Zoe Became the Patient.

A nurse knew healthcare from the inside. Then her daughter Zoe became a 1-pound, 7-ounce NICU patient—and Jennie Willis discovered how quickly a medical crisis can become a family crisis.



“Patients should not have to fight the healthcare system to get the care they need and deserve.”Willie Underwood III, MD, MSc, MPH, President, American Medical Association


The nurse became the patient’s mother.

Jennie Willis had spent her career caring for patients.

As a registered nurse in the PACU at Sunrise Hospital & Medical Center in Las Vegas, she understood healthcare from the inside.

She knew the terminology.

The procedures.

The waiting.

The uncertainty.

The quiet conversations in hallways.

Then, after multiple miscarriages, Jennie became pregnant with her third child.

At 24 weeks, she learned that her baby was not receiving enough blood and nutrients through the placenta.

She was admitted to MountainView Hospital.

The objective was simple:

Give the baby more time.

At 26 weeks and three days, Jennie delivered her daughter, Zoe, by C-section.

Zoe weighed just 1 pound, 7 ounces.

She would spend more than four months in the NICU.

Suddenly, Jennie was experiencing healthcare from the other side of the bed.

Not as the nurse.

As the mother.

And the story became much bigger than medicine.

Jennie and her husband were caring for Zoe while also caring for their two older children.

Eventually, Jennie returned to work while Zoe was still hospitalized.

She visited Zoe during her breaks.

Then returned to the NICU after her shifts.

Think about that.

She was working in a hospital while her own daughter remained hospitalized.

The clinical problem was enormous.

Then another problem appeared.

The bill.

The family was relying on one income.

Medical bills were arriving.

Repeated trips to the hospital added expenses.

The weeks became months.

A nurse at MountainView told Jennie about the HCA Healthcare Hope Fund.

The assistance helped with household and medical expenses and gave the family some financial stability during an extraordinarily uncertain period.

Today, Zoe is home and thriving.

That is the good ending.

But Jennie's story leaves us with a bigger question.

What if the problem we can see is not the problem that started first?


Healthcare has a strange habit.

We tend to notice problems at the end of the process.

The patient misses an appointment.

We notice.

The authorization expires.

We notice.

The claim denies.

We notice.

The physician gets a query.

We notice.

The patient receives a bill.

We notice.

Then we ask:

“Who is going to fix this?”

That question is understandable.

It is also frequently too late.

Because by the time a problem becomes visible, someone may already have spent hours creating it.

Sometimes days.

Sometimes weeks.

And occasionally an entire department.


The denial may be the smoke alarm.

Imagine your kitchen has a water leak.

You see water on the floor.

So you mop it up.

The next morning, more water.

You mop again.

More water.

Eventually, someone proposes a brilliant operational solution:

Hire a faster mop.

That is roughly how bad process design can look.

The denial team becomes the mop.

The denial becomes the puddle.

The real leak remains underneath the sink.

And everyone congratulates themselves because the floor is dry by 4 p.m.

Until tomorrow.

This is the uncomfortable question:

Are we fixing the problem—or becoming extremely efficient at repairing the consequences of the problem?


The revenue cycle has become very good at consequences.

We have:

Denial teams.

Appeal teams.

Authorization teams.

Coding teams.

Eligibility teams.

Revenue-integrity teams.

Patient-financial-services teams.

Collections teams.

Analysts.

Dashboards.

Work queues.

Escalation queues.

And enough passwords to qualify as a cardiovascular stress test.

Yet practices still experience recurring problems.

That should tell us something.

Maybe the industry does not have a shortage of people fixing problems.

Maybe it has a shortage of systems that prevent the same problem from being created repeatedly.


The contrarian question

Here is the question I would put on every practice manager's desk:

When did we first have enough information to know this could become a problem?

Not:

“Why did the payer deny it?”

Not:

“Who forgot to submit it?”

Not:

“Who is going to work the denial?”

Those questions matter.

But they are downstream.

The more interesting question is:

When could we have known?

That changes everything.


Denial management is not denial prevention.

The words sound similar.

They are not.

Denial management asks:

How do we recover money after something went wrong?

Denial prevention asks:

How do we reduce the probability that it goes wrong?

And upstream intelligence asks an even earlier question:

What information, decision, or workflow condition created the risk in the first place?

Those are three different problems.

Treating them as one problem is how organizations end up buying another dashboard when what they really needed was better information flow.


The data is telling us something.

A September 2026 MGMA Stat poll found that 44% of medical group leaders said payer prior-authorization turnaround had become slower in 2026, while 40% said it was about the same.

Only 7% reported faster turnaround.

The poll included 178 applicable responses.

But here is the interesting part.

The delay does not necessarily begin when the payer receives the request.

It can begin before submission.

Someone has to determine whether authorization is required.

Someone has to find the correct submission channel.

Someone has to collect documentation.

Someone has to enter information.

Someone has to monitor status.

Someone may have to respond to requests for additional information.

Then comes the peer-to-peer review.

Then perhaps the denial.

Then the appeal.

Then another round.

So when we say:

“The payer took seven days.”

We may be measuring only seven days of a much longer administrative journey.

That distinction matters.


Faster does not always mean better.

This may be one of the strangest truths in healthcare administration.

Suppose a practice reduces authorization turnaround from five days to two.

Fantastic.

But what if it accomplished that by hiring two additional people to spend their entire day checking payer portals?

The patient may get an answer faster.

The practice may still be carrying the same structural burden.

We have improved speed.

We have not necessarily improved efficiency.

That is why the right metric is not always:

How fast did the process finish?

Sometimes it is:

How much unnecessary work did the process require?


The seven-portal problem.

MGMA reporting has highlighted another revealing reality: many practices have staff accessing seven or more payer portals each week.

Seven.

Not seven patients.

Seven portals.

And each portal can have different:

Rules.

Passwords.

Submission requirements.

Documentation requirements.

Interfaces.

Status screens.

Workflows.

It is hard not to wonder whether we have accidentally created a new medical specialty:

Portal Navigation.

No medical school teaches it.

Yet healthcare workers perform it every day.


And then there is Susan.

Every practice has a Susan.

Susan knows:

Which payer hates modifier 25.

Which plan requires authorization.

Which portal actually works.

Which fax number nobody answers.

Which payer changed a rule three months ago.

Which physician's notes tend to trigger questions.

Which claim needs a phone call.

Which payer representative actually calls back.

Susan is incredibly valuable.

But there is a problem.

Susan is not a database.

She can retire.

Take vacation.

Change jobs.

Get promoted.

Or simply have a bad Tuesday.

When operational intelligence exists only in people's memories, the organization is borrowing knowledge rather than owning it.

The goal of technology should not be to eliminate Susan.

It should be to make sure Susan's useful knowledge does not disappear when Susan walks out the door.


This is where the Jennie Willis story becomes relevant.

Jennie's story is not a billing-denial story.

The published account does not say that a denial caused her family's hardship.

It says something more human.

A nurse who understood healthcare suddenly experienced it as a mother.

The medical problem was only one part of the family's reality.

There was also:

Work.

Transportation.

Two older children.

Medical expenses.

Household expenses.

Uncertainty.

Stress.

And the need to keep functioning while a tiny baby remained in intensive care.

That is what context looks like.

One event. Multiple systems. One human being living through all of them.

Healthcare systems often separate those experiences.

Patients do not.


The patient is not a claim.

A claim is a representation of an encounter.

It is not the encounter itself.

A diagnosis code is not the patient.

A procedure code is not the patient.

An authorization number is not the patient.

A denial code is certainly not the patient.

Yet revenue-cycle systems often encounter patients primarily through these artifacts.

That creates a dangerous mental shortcut:

We start optimizing the representation instead of understanding the event that created it.

That is backwards.


Billing is often a data problem wearing a billing costume.

Consider what happens before a claim exists.

Registration.

Eligibility.

Coverage.

Scheduling.

Authorization.

Clinical encounter.

Documentation.

Diagnosis.

Medical decision-making.

Procedure.

Time.

Charge capture.

Coding.

Claim creation.

Every step creates information.

Every step can lose information.

Every handoff can introduce ambiguity.

Every delay can make information stale.

Every disconnected system can create another version of the truth.

Then the claim arrives downstream carrying the accumulated consequences.

And someone says:

“The claim is wrong.”

Maybe.

But perhaps the claim is simply reporting a problem that began five steps earlier.


The claim is where the problem becomes visible.

It may not be where the problem began.

That distinction is the heart of the OnnX thesis.

Not:

“Let's build a better denial dashboard.”

But:

“Let's understand why the claim became vulnerable before it was submitted.”

That means looking upstream.

Not because downstream work is unimportant.

Because downstream work is expensive.


AI does not magically fix bad workflows.

This needs to be said loudly.

Healthcare does not need another AI system that produces 300 alerts.

Nobody wakes up thinking:

“I wish my EHR gave me more things to click.”

The objective should not be maximum automation.

It should be:

maximum useful information at the right moment.

AI can identify patterns.

Compare information.

Summarize documentation.

Detect inconsistencies.

Prioritize potential problems.

Surface payer-specific patterns.

Learn from historical outcomes.

But AI should not pretend that uncertainty has disappeared.

Sometimes the correct answer is:

“I don't know.”

That is not failure.

That is responsible intelligence.


Prediction is not prevention.

Suppose an AI system predicts that a claim has a high probability of denial.

Great.

Then what?

If the practice does nothing, the prediction accomplished very little.

The real chain is:

Prediction → Decision → Intervention → Outcome → Learning

Not:

Prediction → Dashboard → Meeting → Another dashboard

A prediction without an actionable response is simply an expensive notification.

Healthcare already has plenty of those.


Human judgment still matters.

A physician understands clinical context.

A coder understands coding rules.

A biller understands payer behavior.

A practice manager understands operational reality.

A good system should connect those perspectives.

It should not pretend one algorithm can replace all of them.

The future is not:

AI versus humans.

It is:

AI for scale.

Humans for judgment.

Data for learning.

That is a much more useful model.


Three myths worth retiring

Myth 1: “Our denial team will fix it.”

Maybe.

But if the same denial keeps returning, you have not necessarily fixed the system.

You may simply have built an excellent repair shop.

There is a difference.


Myth 2: “More automation means less work.”

Not necessarily.

Bad automation can create:

More alerts.

More exceptions.

More reconciliation.

More cleanup.

More distrust.

Automation magnifies process quality.

If the process is bad, congratulations.

You just made bad work faster.


Myth 3: “The most sophisticated AI wins.”

No.

The system that people actually use wins.

A tool that identifies three meaningful problems may be more valuable than a spectacular platform producing 300 theoretical risks.

Useful beats impressive.

Every time.


The hidden cost is not always the denial.

Suppose one recurring problem requires 20 minutes of staff time.

One claim?

Fine.

A hundred claims?

More than 33 hours.

Every month?

Now you have created a job.

Every year?

You have created a small department.

And that is before accounting for:

Delayed cash.

Patient calls.

Physician queries.

Appeals.

Management time.

Staff frustration.

Opportunity cost.

The financial loss is not always sitting inside the denial amount.

Sometimes it is sitting inside everyone's calendar.


What should a practice measure?

Days in A/R matters.

Denial rate matters.

Collection rate matters.

But consider adding:

Preventable denial rate

First-pass acceptance rate

Rework minutes per 100 claims

Documentation-related denial rate

Authorization-related delay

Eligibility error rate

Repeat-denial rate

Time from detection to resolution

Staff hours spent on recurring problems

And perhaps the most interesting metric:

How many problems did we prevent instead of repair?

That question changes the conversation.


A 30-day experiment

You do not need a massive transformation project.

Try one problem.

Week 1: Find the leak

Choose your most common recurring denial.

Pull 25 examples.

Look for patterns.

Week 2: Find the earliest signal

Ask:

What was the first point at which someone could reasonably have known this was going to become a problem?

Week 3: Change one thing

One workflow.

One checkpoint.

One documentation prompt.

One payer-specific rule.

One authorization check.

Do not redesign the entire universe.

Week 4: Measure

Compare:

Before.

After.

Rework.

Staff time.

Denials.

Resolution.

Then decide whether the intervention deserves to survive.


The legal and ethical line

Revenue optimization has a boundary.

It should improve the accuracy of representing care.

It should never encourage manipulation of care documentation or coding simply to increase reimbursement.

The objective is not:

Find the highest-paying code.

It is:

Accurately represent the care that occurred.

That distinction is fundamental.

Technology also has to account for:

HIPAA.

Security.

Coding compliance.

Medical necessity.

Payer contracts.

Auditability.

AI governance.

Human oversight.

Automation does not transfer accountability.

If software recommends something, someone still needs to determine whether that recommendation makes sense.


Small practices cannot afford enterprise-sized complexity.

A large health system can throw people at a problem.

An independent practice often cannot.

The physician may be the owner.

The practice manager may handle HR.

The nurse may handle authorization.

The front desk may handle eligibility.

The biller may handle denials.

Everyone already has another job.

That means technology for small and medium-sized practices needs to respect something very scarce:

attention.

Not just money.

Attention.

A system that requires seven dashboards, three consultants, two months of training, and a 94-page implementation manual may be technologically impressive.

It may also be completely wrong for a five-physician practice.

Simple is not unsophisticated.

Sometimes simple means someone finally understood the workflow.


What OnnX is exploring

This is the problem space behind OnnX.

OnnX is an AI-powered healthcare revenue-cycle and medical billing SaaS platform being developed for small and medium-sized medical practices and clinics.

But the interesting part is not “AI billing.”

The interesting part is where intelligence enters the workflow.

Instead of waiting for the claim to fail:

Understand.

Detect.

Decide.

Act.

Learn.

The goal is to move intelligence closer to the point where information and decisions are created.

That means thinking beyond:

“Can we automate this claim?”

And asking:

“Can we make the decision that creates this claim better?”

That is a different category of problem.


The future may be less about faster billing.

It may be about fewer reasons to bill reactively.

Imagine a system that understands:

The practice.

The payer.

The provider.

The encounter.

The documentation.

The workflow.

The historical outcome.

And the uncertainty.

Not to replace people.

To give them context.

Before the problem becomes expensive.

That is the direction worth exploring.


One uncomfortable possibility

Maybe healthcare has spent decades optimizing the wrong end of the pipe.

We became very good at:

Finding denials.

Counting denials.

Categorizing denials.

Reporting denials.

Appealing denials.

Forecasting denials.

Hiring people to work denials.

Buying software to manage denials.

And yet we may still be asking the wrong question.

Why did the denial have to exist in the first place?

That question moves the conversation upstream.


Jennie Willis gives us the human version of the lesson.

Jennie knew healthcare.

Then Zoe became her patient.

Jennie understood the clinical system.

But suddenly she was navigating the system as a mother.

The story reminds us that healthcare is never just the clinical event.

There is always a surrounding human system.

Work.

Money.

Family.

Transportation.

Time.

Stress.

Support.

Information.

The same principle applies operationally.

A claim is never just a claim.

It is the final expression of dozens of earlier decisions and information exchanges.

When something goes wrong downstream, we should not only ask:

“How do we fix it?”

We should ask:

“Where did we first have a chance to prevent it?”


Maybe that is the real healthcare AI opportunity.

Not replacing the biller.

Not replacing the physician.

Not replacing the practice manager.

Not predicting everything.

Not producing another dashboard.

Maybe the opportunity is much simpler.

Give the right person the right context early enough to make a better decision.

That is intelligence.

Everything else is infrastructure.


Get Involved

Here is the question I want to put to physicians, practice owners, administrators, coders, and billers:

What problem does your practice keep fixing that you suspect actually starts somewhere else?

Eligibility?

Authorization?

Documentation?

Coding?

Payer behavior?

Registration?

Workflow?

Something nobody has named yet?

Tell me what you see in the comments.

The recurring problems are often the most interesting ones because someone has usually become so good at working around them that nobody remembers to question why the workaround exists.

And if this perspective resonates, repost it for another physician or practice owner who spends too much time repairing problems that should have been prevented upstream.

Don't just fix the denial. Find the decision that created it.

Don't just automate the queue. Question why the queue exists.

Don't just measure what went wrong. Measure what could have been prevented.


About the Author

Dr. Daniel Cham is a physician, physician-entrepreneur, and medical consultant focused on healthcare technology, healthcare management, medical billing, and revenue-cycle intelligence.

As founder of OnnX, Dr. Cham explores how AI, clinical context, workflow intelligence, and better data can help physician-owned practices move from reactive revenue-cycle management toward more proactive decision-making.

His work focuses on practical questions at the intersection of medicine, healthcare operations, technology, revenue integrity, and innovation.

Connect with Dr. Daniel Cham on LinkedIn


Disclaimer

This article is intended for general educational and informational purposes only. It does not constitute medical, legal, coding, compliance, financial, or professional advice.

Healthcare regulations, payer requirements, contracts, coding rules, and technology standards can change and vary by circumstance.

For advice concerning a particular patient, practice, claim, contract, compliance issue, legal matter, or technology implementation, consult an appropriately qualified professional.


Continue the Conversation

Healthcare innovation rarely begins with a new piece of software.

It often begins with a better question.

For conversations about healthcare operations, medical technology, physician entrepreneurship, medical billing, revenue-cycle intelligence, and innovation, connect with Dr. Cham through his professional channels.

DrDanielCham.com

Listen on Spotify

Watch on YouTube

Follow on X

Follow on Facebook

Knowledge creates options. Better questions create better systems. Start upstream.


Featured Resource

Visit the Featured section of my LinkedIn profile for a free resource.

No signup required.

If this perspective resonates, consider reposting it so another physician, administrator, or practice owner can join the conversation.


References

HCA Healthcare Hope Fund — Jennie Willis and Zoe

The September 22, 2026 story identifies Jennie Willis as a registered nurse in the PACU at Sunrise Hospital & Medical Center in Las Vegas. It describes Zoe's birth at 26 weeks and three days, her 1-pound, 7-ounce birth weight, more than four months in the NICU, Jennie's return to work while Zoe remained hospitalized, and the family's financial strain and assistance through the HCA Healthcare Hope Fund.

American Medical Association — Willie Underwood III, MD, MSc, MPH

The AMA President's September 4, 2026 article states: “Patients should not have to fight the healthcare system to get the care they need and deserve.” The same article reports findings from the AMA's latest survey of 1,000 practicing physicians, including an average of 40 prior authorizations per week and approximately 13 hours of physician/staff time devoted to them.

MGMA — Prior Authorization Turnaround, 2026

MGMA reported that in a September 1, 2026 poll of 178 applicable responses, 44% of medical group leaders said payer prior-authorization turnaround was slower in 2026, 40% said it was about the same, 7% said it was faster, and 9% were unsure. MGMA also described workload occurring before and after the formal payer decision, including submission, documentation, status checks, additional-information requests, peer-to-peer reviews, denials, and appeals.


Hashtags

#Healthcare #MedicalBilling #RevenueCycleManagement #HealthcareAI #MedicalCoding #DenialManagement #HealthcareInnovation #HealthTech #PhysicianEntrepreneur #RevenueIntegrity #HealthcareOperations #MedicalPractice #ClinicalDocumentation #PriorAuthorization #HealthcareTechnology #PhysicianOwnedPractice #PracticeManagement #AIinHealthcare #OnnX

 

Tuesday, September 22, 2026

Jenna VanderWeide Was a Nurse. Then Sepsis Nearly Took Her Life.

What a nurse, a husband, five daughters—and two heartbreaking healthcare stories—can teach us about seeing problems before they become expensive



“AI [is] a helpful second opinion, not a replacement, for doctors.”Atul Gawande, MD, MPH

From Dr. Atul Gawande’s September 14, 2026 conversation on “10% Happier with Dan Harris,” discussing medicine, aging, difficult diagnoses and the role of AI in healthcare.

 


There is something strange about healthcare.

We have more data than any civilization in history.

More dashboards.

More alerts.

More analytics.

More artificial intelligence.

More predictive models.

More software.

And somehow, we still miss things.

Sometimes spectacularly.

Sometimes expensively.

Sometimes tragically.

And sometimes the problem isn't that nobody had the information.

The problem is that nobody recognized what the information meant soon enough.

That distinction matters.

A lot.

And it is why the story of Jenna VanderWeide caught my attention.

Because Jenna is a nurse.

She understands healthcare.

She understands warning signs.

She understands what can happen when a patient's condition changes.

Then one morning, she became the patient.

And suddenly, knowing medicine wasn't enough.


The 50 Feet That Nearly Changed Everything

The morning began normally.

Jenna VanderWeide changed the dressing on a wound on her leg.

She grabbed a book.

She went outside.

Nothing about the morning announced:

“Today is going to be the day your life changes.”

Then she became lightheaded.

She tried to walk the roughly 50 feet from her back porch to her bedroom.

She couldn't.

She walked a few steps.

Sat down.

Tried again.

Sat down again.

As a nurse, Jenna did what many healthcare professionals would do.

She checked her blood pressure.

It was dangerously low.

When her husband, Ryan VanderWeide, arrived, Jenna told him she needed to go to the hospital.

She was suffering from sepsis, a life-threatening response to infection that can progress rapidly and damage organs.

Within days, the situation became terrifying.

On February 14, Jenna's condition had deteriorated so severely that Ryan and their five daughters were brought to the hospital.

Their oldest daughter was 15.

Their youngest was 11.

They were there because there was a real possibility they were about to say goodbye to their mother.

Ryan remembered the situation bluntly:

“It was just not looking good.”

Jenna doesn't remember much of that day.

In fact, she remembers the morning of February 10.

Then she says she essentially woke up months later.

About three months of her life had disappeared from her memory.

She survived.

But survival was only the beginning.

She eventually required a tracheostomy and feeding tube and underwent prolonged recovery and rehabilitation.

Her objective was remarkably simple:

Get home to her five daughters.


Then Something Beautiful Happened

Months later, Jenna returned to AdventHealth Winter Garden.

Something unexpected happened.

People started coming into her room.

They knew her.

She didn't know them.

The nurses remembered caring for her during the period she could barely remember herself.

The people who had been part of her worst days remembered her when she couldn't remember them.

And Jenna realized something profound.

She hadn't been merely a patient.

She hadn't been merely a bed number.

She hadn't been merely a chart.

She had been a person.

A mother.

A wife.

A nurse.

A daughter.

A member of a community.

She later said:

“I wasn’t just one person or one number or someone in the bed. The whole person was being cared for.”

That sentence deserves to travel far beyond the hospital.

Because it raises a much bigger question:

What happens when healthcare systems begin treating signals as numbers instead of context?

And that brings us somewhere unexpected.

Medical billing.


Wait. What Does Sepsis Have to Do With Billing?

Quite a lot.

And almost nothing.

Let me explain.

A sepsis crisis and a denied claim obviously are not equivalent.

One can kill someone.

The other can annoy a biller.

Nobody should confuse the two.

The connection is much more specific:

Both illustrate what happens when meaningful signals are recognized too late.

Jenna's body was producing signals.

Her ability to walk changed.

She became lightheaded.

Her blood pressure dropped.

Her condition deteriorated.

The information mattered.

But information only becomes useful when someone recognizes its significance and acts.

The same principle exists in healthcare operations.

A claim contains information.

A denial contains information.

A payer response contains information.

A documentation pattern contains information.

A recurring rework problem contains information.

But if we only notice the pattern after the claim fails, we're looking backward.

And that leads to my contrarian proposition:

Maybe medical billing has been looking in the wrong direction.


The Claim May Not Be the Problem

Healthcare has become remarkably good at dealing with things after they go wrong.

Claim denied?

Work the denial.

Claim rejected?

Correct it.

Authorization missing?

Fix it.

Documentation insufficient?

Chase it.

Coding issue?

Rework it.

Payment delayed?

Investigate it.

Staff overloaded?

Buy another dashboard.

Another dashboard?

Buy another dashboard to explain the first dashboard.

At some point, we should probably stop.

The question shouldn't always be:

“How do we fix the problem faster?”

It should be:

“Why did we keep allowing the same problem to happen?”

That's a different question.

And it changes the economics.


The Revenue Cycle Has a Dirty Little Secret

The claim is not where the story begins.

It is where the story becomes visible.

Before the claim existed, a lot already happened.

A patient was scheduled.

Eligibility was checked.

An appointment occurred.

A physician evaluated the patient.

A service was performed.

Documentation was created.

A diagnosis was recorded.

A procedure was captured.

An authorization may have been required.

A payer relationship already existed.

The practice had historical experience.

Then someone assembled the claim.

So when the claim fails, we often ask:

“What's wrong with this claim?”

Maybe we should ask:

“What happened before this claim was created?”

That is the upstream question.


Think About a Restaurant

Imagine going to a restaurant.

You order dinner.

The kitchen prepares it.

You eat.

Then you receive a bill.

Now imagine something is wrong with the bill.

Would you investigate only the receipt?

Probably not.

You might ask:

Did we order that?

Was the price correct?

Was there a mistake?

Was something added?

The receipt is evidence of what happened earlier.

The claim is similar.

It is not the entire billing process.

It is the financial representation of decisions that happened upstream.

So perhaps we have spent too much time perfecting the receipt printer.

And not enough time asking why the order was entered incorrectly.


My Hot Take

Here is the provocative part.

Medical billing doesn't necessarily need more intelligence at the back end.

It needs more intelligence before the back end becomes necessary.

We have spent years building increasingly sophisticated ways to manage failure.

Denial management.

Appeals.

Work queues.

Claims scrubbing.

Payment posting.

AR analytics.

Collections.

All useful.

But there is a paradox:

The better you become at fixing a recurring problem, the easier it can become to tolerate the problem.

That is dangerous.

A denial team that gets incredibly efficient at processing 10,000 recurring denials may accidentally become an argument for keeping the upstream process exactly as it is.

The machine gets better.

The problem remains.

Congratulations.

You've optimized the fire department.

You haven't necessarily reduced the number of fires.


Downstream Is Comfortable

Downstream work feels productive.

There is a queue.

There are numbers.

There are tasks.

There are completed items.

Someone can say:

“We processed 4,800 denials this month.”

Impressive.

But here's the uncomfortable question:

How many of those 4,800 denials should never have existed?

That number is much harder to measure.

And probably much more interesting.


What Is Upstream Billing Intelligence?

I use Upstream Billing Intelligence to describe an operating model built around earlier recognition.

Instead of waiting for the claim to tell us something went wrong, the practice asks:

What do we already know?

What happened in similar encounters?

What does this payer typically require?

What patterns have we seen?

Is this encounter unusual?

Is the documentation likely to create friction?

Is there an operational variable worth reviewing?

Does the situation deserve human attention before submission?

The goal isn't perfect prediction.

The goal is earlier awareness.

Earlier awareness creates options.

Options create choices.

Choices create better decisions.


And No, I Don't Think AI Is the Answer to Everything

This is where I may disappoint the AI crowd.

AI is not a strategy.

AI is a capability.

Putting AI into a broken process doesn't magically make the process intelligent.

Sometimes it just makes the broken process move faster.

Which is a fascinating way to arrive at failure more efficiently.

Healthcare technology should start with:

What decision are we trying to improve?

Then:

What information is needed?

Then:

What should the human see?

Then:

Can software help?

Then:

Can AI help?

The order matters.


Atul Gawande's Point Is Bigger Than AI

That is why the recent conversation with Atul Gawande, MD, MPH, caught my attention.

In his September 14 conversation with Dan Harris, Gawande discussed AI as a “helpful second opinion” rather than a replacement for doctors.

That idea applies far beyond clinical medicine.

A useful AI system shouldn't necessarily say:

“Here is the answer.”

It can instead say:

“Here is what I see. Here is why I see it. Here are the relevant possibilities. You decide.”

That is much closer to how complex healthcare actually works.


The Future Is Human-Augmented Intelligence

I call this human-augmented intelligence.

The machine does what machines are good at.

It can:

  • organize information
  • compare patterns
  • search historical data
  • identify anomalies
  • summarize context
  • surface potential risks
  • present possible options

The human does what humans should continue doing.

  • judgment
  • context
  • accountability
  • ethics
  • exceptions
  • communication

Then something important happens.

The human decision becomes data.

The outcome becomes feedback.

The feedback improves the next recommendation.

The loop becomes:

Data → Context → Recommendation → Human Decision → Outcome → Learning

That is far more interesting than:

AI → Magic → Profit


Physicians Don't Need Another Robot Boss

Let's be honest.

Physicians already have enough alerts.

Enough inboxes.

Enough notifications.

Enough “action required” messages.

Enough systems that supposedly save time while requiring six hours of training.

Healthcare software has occasionally achieved the remarkable feat of turning a five-minute task into a 14-step workflow.

If the solution requires a 72-page manual and three super-users, perhaps the problem is not the user.

Perhaps the software needs therapy.


Practice-Specific Intelligence Changes the Equation

One of the biggest problems with generic billing intelligence is that practices are not generic.

A dermatology practice is not a cardiology practice.

A rural family practice is not a metropolitan multispecialty group.

A physician-owned clinic is not a large health system.

Payer mix differs.

Patient populations differ.

Geography differs.

Contracts differ.

Documentation differs.

Staffing differs.

Workflows differ.

Historical performance differs.

So why should every practice receive the same supposedly “best” answer?

Maybe there isn't one universal answer.

Maybe there is:

the best-informed answer for this practice, in this situation, at this moment.

That is a much more interesting problem.


The Practice Should Have a Memory

Imagine a billing system that actually remembers what the practice has learned.

Not merely:

“What happened?”

But:

“What did we learn?”

Suppose a payer repeatedly creates a particular problem.

The practice shouldn't have to rediscover it every month.

Suppose one documentation pattern repeatedly creates rework.

The system should recognize it.

Suppose one workflow consistently performs better.

The system should remember.

Over time, the practice develops something valuable:

its own operational intelligence.

Not generic intelligence.

Not somebody else's benchmark.

Its intelligence.


The Best Answer May Not Be One Answer

Here's another contrarian idea.

Healthcare technology loves the word optimal.

Optimal workflow.

Optimal code.

Optimal reimbursement.

Optimal outcome.

Reality is usually less cooperative.

Sometimes there are several reasonable choices.

One approach may minimize administrative risk.

Another may reduce staff burden.

Another may require more documentation.

Another may be operationally faster.

The appropriate choice depends on context.

So why force the software to pretend there is only one answer?

A better system could present a spectrum of approaches.

For example:

Lower operational risk

Balanced approach

Higher complexity / greater administrative burden

Explain the trade-offs.

Let the human decide.

Record the decision.

Measure the result.

Learn.

That is decision support.

Not decision replacement.


The Human Decision Should Matter

Suppose the system recommends Option A.

The biller chooses Option B.

The claim is paid.

What happened?

The system learned.

Suppose the system recommends Option A.

The biller chooses Option B.

The claim is denied.

The system also learned.

Suppose the system recommends nothing.

The claim is denied.

Again:

information.

This is why I don't believe the objective should be an AI system that is never wrong.

That standard is unrealistic.

The better objective is:

A system that becomes more useful because the organization learns from every important decision.


Failure Is Data

This may be one of the most important ideas in modern healthcare technology.

Failure shouldn't automatically disappear into a denial queue.

It should become structured learning.

What happened?

Why?

Was the system aware?

Was the human aware?

Was the recommendation ignored?

Was the recommendation wrong?

Was the underlying information incomplete?

Was the payer behavior unusual?

Did the workflow itself create the problem?

Failure is not just an expense.

Failure is information about the system.


The Audit Trail Becomes More Important

If software influences an important billing decision, the organization should be able to reconstruct the decision later.

What did the system see?

What did it recommend?

What did the human see?

What changed?

What did the human reject?

Why?

What happened afterward?

This isn't about turning every billing interaction into a legal deposition.

It is about accountability.

If an algorithm affects a decision, the practice should not have to say:

“We don't know. The software did it.”

That's not governance.

That's outsourcing responsibility.


The Legal and Compliance Line

There is another important distinction.

The objective of billing technology should never be:

“How do we get paid more?”

It should be:

“How do we represent the care accurately, support appropriate reimbursement and reduce avoidable administrative friction?”

Those are different philosophies.

A system that identifies a legitimate documentation gap is useful.

A system that encourages unsupported coding because a particular code pays more is a problem.

Optimization must remain inside the boundaries of accurate documentation, coding rules, payer requirements and applicable law.

Revenue should be the result of accurate healthcare—not the target that distorts it.


The Numbers Are Big Enough to Matter

The CDC's current 2026 data says approximately 1.7 million adults develop sepsis each year in the United States, and at least 350,000 adults who develop sepsis die during hospitalization or are discharged to hospice.

The point isn't to turn a sepsis story into a billing analogy.

The consequences are fundamentally different.

The point is that healthcare systems can have meaningful signals before a crisis becomes obvious.

And when recognition is delayed, options can disappear.

That principle matters clinically.

It also matters operationally.


Then Amanda Ireton Became the Daughter

Jenna's story isn't the only reason this week's sepsis stories matter.

Amanda Ireton, an infection prevention manager at AdventHealth Avista in Louisville, Colorado, recently shared another deeply personal experience.

Two years ago, she lost her mother to sepsis.

Ireton already worked in infection prevention.

She knew sepsis clinically.

But experiencing it as a daughter changed everything.

She described feeling “completely helpless” while trusting the healthcare team.

She also said the hospital where her mother was seen did not have a sepsis program or sepsis alert, and she believes earlier suspicion might have changed the outcome. That is Ireton's own belief, not an independently established causal finding.

That distinction matters.

Her story is not proof that an alert would have saved her mother.

It is evidence of something else:

What looks like a process improvement from inside a healthcare organization can feel like life-or-death uncertainty from the family side.

And that is exactly why systems matter.


From Jenna to Amanda to Billing

Look at the progression.

Jenna VanderWeide: nurse → patient.

Ryan VanderWeide: husband → terrified caregiver.

Five daughters: children → possible goodbye.

Amanda Ireton: healthcare professional → grieving daughter.

Healthcare teams: clinicians → trusted strangers.

Then finally:

Billing teams: professionals → people trying to make sense of fragmented information.

Different circumstances.

Different stakes.

But a shared operational principle:

The information is only valuable if someone recognizes its meaning at the right time.


Healthcare Is Not a Spreadsheet

This sounds obvious.

But software design sometimes forgets it.

A patient is not a row.

A physician is not a utilization metric.

A family is not a satisfaction score.

A claim is not merely a transaction.

A denial is not merely a code.

Numbers matter.

But numbers need context.

Otherwise, we end up optimizing what is easiest to measure rather than what is most important.


The Real Cost of a Denial

A denial isn't simply lost revenue.

It creates work.

Someone must find it.

Someone must interpret it.

Someone must review the record.

Someone may contact the payer.

Someone corrects it.

Someone resubmits it.

Someone monitors it.

Someone explains it.

Someone eventually reports it.

Multiply that by hundreds or thousands.

Suddenly the denial has become:

a labor problem.

Then:

a staffing problem.

Then:

a management problem.

Then:

a physician-owner problem.

The dollar amount is only part of the cost.

The other cost is organizational attention.


The Question Physician Owners Should Ask

Don't ask only:

“What's our denial rate?”

Ask:

“Why are we repeatedly learning the same lesson after the claim has already failed?”

That question changes everything.

If the same denial occurs 50 times, the solution should not automatically be:

“Work the 50 denials faster.”

Maybe the better question is:

“Why are we allowing number 51 to happen?”


A Simple Example

Imagine a clinic has a recurring documentation-related denial.

The biller knows about it.

The practice manager knows about it.

Maybe the physician knows about it.

Yet it keeps happening.

Why?

Because the knowledge lives in people's heads.

That's fragile.

When the biller leaves, the knowledge leaves.

When the physician is busy, the knowledge disappears into the chaos of clinical care.

When a new employee arrives, everyone starts explaining the same thing again.

This isn't primarily an AI problem.

It's an organizational memory problem.

Technology can help turn individual memory into institutional memory.


What Should Be Automated?

Automate repetitive work.

Information retrieval.

Data gathering.

Pattern comparison.

Historical searches.

Routine validation.

Prioritization.

Summaries.

But be careful about automating decisions that require judgment and accountability.

Ambiguous documentation.

Ethical questions.

Clinical context.

Exceptions.

High-risk situations.

The objective is not:

Automate everything.

The objective is:

Automate what machines are good at so humans have more time for what machines are bad at.


A 30-Day Upstream Billing Experiment

You don't need sophisticated AI to start.

Week 1: Find the recurring pain

Ask your billing team:

“What problem do we keep fixing over and over?”

Not the biggest problem.

The most repetitive one.

Week 2: Walk backward

Find where the problem began.

Scheduling?

Eligibility?

Authorization?

Documentation?

Coding?

Charge capture?

Claim construction?

Submission?

Week 3: Identify the earliest signal

What information existed before the failure?

Could someone reasonably have recognized it?

Week 4: Add one intervention

One rule.

One checkpoint.

One structured data element.

One human review.

One warning.

Then measure.

Did rework fall?

Did staff time fall?

Did clean claims increase?

Did the intervention create new work?

Did staff trust it?

Did humans override it?

If yes, why?

Now you have something valuable.

Evidence.


The Most Dangerous Word in Healthcare Technology

That word is:

“Automatic.”

Automatic coding.

Automatic authorization.

Automatic billing.

Automatic decision-making.

Automatic everything.

Automatic sounds wonderful in a sales presentation.

Until it makes the wrong decision.

The better word is:

appropriate.

Appropriate automation.

Appropriate review.

Appropriate escalation.

Appropriate human intervention.

Healthcare needs judgment about where automation belongs.


The Second Most Dangerous Word

“Optimal.”

Optimal for whom?

Optimal according to what?

Optimal under which assumptions?

Optimal based on what historical data?

Optimal for the payer?

The practice?

The patient?

The biller?

The physician?

The software vendor?

There may not be one optimal answer.

There may be a set of reasonable answers with different trade-offs.

That is why transparent decision support matters.


What OnnX Is Trying to Build

This is the philosophy behind OnnX.

Not another generic “AI in healthcare” product.

Not another dashboard that gives physicians 47 colors and calls it intelligence.

Not another system that waits for the denial and then congratulates itself for finding it.

The idea is simpler:

Move billing intelligence upstream.

Understand the practice.

Understand its historical patterns.

Understand relevant payer and operational context.

Surface potential issues earlier.

Present the human with understandable options.

Allow the human to decide.

Preserve the decision.

Measure the outcome.

Learn.

Repeat.

The technology should become smarter because the practice becomes more knowledgeable.


The Practice Becomes the Algorithm

Here's where I think things get particularly interesting.

Imagine two clinics using the same platform.

Over time, should their systems behave identically?

Probably not.

Clinic A has one payer mix.

Clinic B has another.

Clinic A has one documentation culture.

Clinic B has another.

Clinic A has a particular historical pattern.

Clinic B has a completely different one.

The software should eventually understand those differences.

The practice doesn't just use the algorithm.

The practice teaches the algorithm.

That is a fundamentally different model.


The Best AI May Know When Not to Answer

Here's a thought I would like more healthcare AI companies to embrace:

Sometimes the smartest system is the one that says, “I'm not sure.”

That's not weakness.

That's calibration.

If the evidence is weak, say so.

If the data is incomplete, say so.

If two approaches are reasonable, show both.

If the human needs to decide, escalate.

Trust isn't created by pretending the machine is omniscient.

Trust is created by knowing when the machine should stop talking.


What Small Physician Practices Actually Need

Not another technology ecosystem.

Not another 90-minute sales demo.

Not another implementation project that takes longer than the average television series.

They need tools that answer simple questions:

What should I pay attention to?

Why does it matter?

What are my options?

What happens if I choose each one?

What did we learn last time?

Who made the decision?

Did it work?

That's useful.


The Future of Billing May Look Less Like Billing

The irony is that the best billing technology might eventually become almost invisible.

No giant dashboard.

No endless queue.

No constant alerts.

No heroic denial department.

The system quietly watches for meaningful patterns.

It surfaces what matters.

It explains why.

It asks for judgment when necessary.

It records what happened.

It learns.

Then it gets out of the way.

That's less glamorous than:

“Our revolutionary AI platform transforms healthcare.”

But it may be considerably more useful.


What I Would Measure

If I were a physician owner evaluating an upstream billing strategy, I would watch:

Preventable denial rate

Not simply total denials.

Time to recognition

How early does the practice identify potential problems?

Rework hours

How much staff time is spent correcting avoidable issues?

Clean-claim performance

How often does the claim move through without rework?

Payer-specific patterns

Where do meaningful differences occur?

Documentation friction

Where does the clinical record create operational problems?

Human override rate

How often do people disagree with the system?

And here's the interesting one:

Learning velocity

How quickly does the practice turn an error into a better process?

That may become one of the most important metrics in healthcare technology.


The Healthcare Technology Test

Before buying another AI tool, ask five questions:

1. What happens before the claim?

2. What signal does the system recognize?

3. Can the human understand why it matters?

4. What happens when the human disagrees?

5. Does the organization learn from the outcome?

If a vendor can't answer those questions clearly, you may be buying automation without intelligence.


Myth Busters

Myth: Every denial is preventable.

No.

Some are not.

The goal is to reduce avoidable ones.

Myth: More AI means better billing.

No.

Better decisions matter more than more AI.

Myth: More data means better decisions.

Not necessarily.

More irrelevant data creates more noise.

Myth: A dashboard creates intelligence.

A dashboard displays information.

Intelligence requires interpretation.

Myth: AI should make the final decision.

Not necessarily.

The appropriate role depends on the decision, risk and context.

Myth: Practice-specific learning is unnecessary.

Historical behavior can be highly relevant.

Myth: The goal is maximum reimbursement.

No.

The goal should be accurate representation of care and appropriate reimbursement within applicable rules.


Three Expert Lessons

1. Jenna VanderWeide: Early recognition matters

Jenna's experience demonstrates how rapidly sepsis can progress and why warning signs may deserve prompt attention. Elizabeth Dalchand, MD, and Arun Malhotra, MD, emphasized early recognition and treatment in the AdventHealth account.

Operational lesson: meaningful signals are most useful before the crisis.

2. Amanda Ireton: Systems become personal

Ireton understood sepsis professionally before experiencing it as the daughter of someone with sepsis.

Her experience reinforced for her the importance of organized sepsis recognition and response.

Operational lesson: a process is never merely a process to the person living with its consequences.

3. Atul Gawande: Technology should augment judgment

Gawande's recent discussion framed AI as a second opinion rather than a replacement for doctors.

Technology lesson: the machine can expand human perception without eliminating human responsibility.

Put those three lessons together:

Recognize earlier.

Build systems that remember.

Keep humans accountable.

That is a pretty good starting point for healthcare technology.


The Bigger Opportunity for Healthcare Founders

If you're building healthcare technology, stop asking:

“Where can we insert AI?”

Ask:

“Where does healthcare repeatedly recognize the problem too late?”

That question is much more powerful.

Maybe the answer is billing.

Maybe prior authorization.

Maybe referrals.

Maybe documentation.

Maybe medication reconciliation.

Maybe scheduling.

Maybe care transitions.

The recurring pattern is:

Signal exists → signal is fragmented → recognition is delayed → humans react → organization pays the price.

That is where innovation gets interesting.


The Bigger Opportunity for Physicians

Physicians understand something technology teams sometimes miss:

Healthcare is full of exceptions.

The patient who doesn't fit the textbook.

The payer that behaves differently from the policy manual.

The workflow that works beautifully at 9 a.m. and collapses at 4:45 p.m.

The employee who knows a workaround nobody documented.

The patient whose story changes the meaning of the data.

That's why physicians belong in healthcare technology.

Not because every physician needs to become a programmer.

Because physicians understand context.

And context is what machines often lack.


The Bigger Opportunity for Practice Managers

Practice managers see the operational truth.

They see:

The recurring denial.

The staff workaround.

The payer pattern.

The physician frustration.

The patient complaint.

The spreadsheet nobody wants to maintain.

The process everyone knows is broken.

And the problem nobody has time to fix.

That knowledge is an asset.

The question is whether the organization captures it.

If not, the organization keeps paying tuition for the same lesson.


A New Definition of Efficiency

We normally define efficiency as:

More work with fewer resources.

I would add:

Fewer avoidable problems created in the first place.

Processing 10,000 denials faster is efficiency.

Preventing 1,000 avoidable denials is something else.

It is prevention.

Prevention is often less visible.

There is no heroic queue.

No dramatic dashboard.

No celebratory email:

“Congratulations! We avoided 1,000 problems that never happened.”

But maybe there should be.


The Most Interesting Question in the Room

At your next revenue-cycle meeting, don't ask:

“How many claims did we process?”

Ask:

“What did we learn?”

Then ask:

“What will we do differently because of what we learned?”

Then ask:

“How will we know it worked?”

If nobody can answer those questions, you're measuring activity.

Not learning.


Final Thoughts

Jenna VanderWeide was a nurse.

She understood healthcare.

Then she became the patient.

Her husband, Ryan, and their five daughters watched a routine day become a terrifying fight for her life.

Her condition deteriorated so severely that her daughters were brought to the hospital because they might have to say goodbye.

She survived.

Months later, the people who cared for her remembered her even though she could not remember them.

She realized she had been more than a number.

She had been a whole person.

Then there is Amanda Ireton.

She worked in infection prevention.

Then she became the daughter beside her mother's hospital bed.

She knew the medicine.

But knowing medicine did not make her immune to helplessness.

These stories remind us why healthcare systems matter.

Not because systems are fascinating.

Because people live inside them.

That is also why I think medical billing deserves a different conversation.

The claim isn't the beginning.

The denial isn't the beginning.

The dashboard isn't the beginning.

The beginning is the information that existed before those things happened.

The signal.

The context.

The decision.

The human judgment.

The opportunity.

Maybe the future of medical billing isn't about becoming better at chasing yesterday's problems.

Maybe it's about becoming better at recognizing tomorrow's problems before they arrive.

That is what I mean by Upstream Billing Intelligence.

And perhaps the most important question for every physician-owned practice is not:

“How do we work denials faster?”

It is:

“What are we repeatedly fixing downstream that we should have recognized upstream?”

That is the question worth answering.


Your Turn

If you are a physician, practice owner, practice manager or medical biller:

What recurring problem does your practice keep fixing that you suspect should have been caught earlier?

Tell me in the comments.

Not the politically correct answer.

Not the consultant answer.

The real answer.

Because somewhere inside that recurring annoyance may be the next important workflow improvement.

And if you know another physician or practice manager who spends too much time fixing yesterday's problems, share this with them.

Maybe the next breakthrough isn't another AI model.

Maybe it's recognizing the signal sooner.


About the Author

Dr. Daniel Cham is a physician, healthcare strategist and entrepreneur focused on the intersection of medical practice management, healthcare technology and medical billing.

As founder of OnnX, Dr. Cham is developing an approach to Upstream Billing Intelligence for small and medium-sized physician practices—focused on recognizing potential problems earlier, understanding practice-specific context, supporting human decision-making and learning from operational outcomes.

His perspective is grounded in a simple belief:

Healthcare technology should reduce complexity, not manufacture more of it.

Connect with Dr. Cham on LinkedIn for perspectives on healthcare operations, medical billing, practice management and healthcare innovation.


Continue the Conversation

LinkedIn: Connect with Dr. Daniel Cham

Website: Dr. Daniel Cham

Spotify: Listen to the podcast

YouTube: Watch on YouTube

X: Follow on X

Facebook: Follow on Facebook

Free LinkedIn resource: Visit the Featured section of my LinkedIn profile for a free resource on thinking about upstream billing, operational signals and better practice decisions.


Disclaimer

This article is intended for general educational and informational purposes. It does not constitute medical, legal, coding, compliance, reimbursement or financial advice. Healthcare professionals and organizations should evaluate their own circumstances and consult appropriately qualified professionals for specific guidance.


References

1. AdventHealth — “Sepsis nearly took a mother's life. Now, she wants others to know the warning signs.”
Published September 16, 2026. The account documents Jenna VanderWeide's sepsis experience, her husband Ryan VanderWeide, their five daughters and her long recovery.

Read the Jenna VanderWeide story

2. AdventHealth — “Turning an unimaginable loss into a lifesaving mission.”
Published September 21, 2026. The story describes Amanda Ireton's experience losing her mother to sepsis and her subsequent advocacy for sepsis awareness and recognition.

Read Amanda Ireton's story

3. CDC — “Sepsis Burden.”
Updated August 17, 2026. The CDC reports approximately 1.7 million adult sepsis cases annually in the United States and at least 350,000 adult deaths or hospice discharges.

CDC Sepsis Burden

4. Atul Gawande — “What's Worth Living For?”
September 14, 2026, 10% Happier with Dan Harris. The conversation covers aging, difficult diagnoses, what matters to patients and the role of AI as a second opinion rather than a replacement for physicians.

Listen to the Atul Gawande conversation


One Last Thought

Healthcare has no shortage of information.

It has no shortage of software.

It has no shortage of alerts.

What it may need more of is better recognition.

Because the most expensive problem may not be the problem we can see.

It may be the signal we saw—

and didn't understand soon enough.

#MedicalBilling #HealthcareManagement #PracticeManagement #RevenueCycleManagement #HealthcareInnovation #UpstreamBilling #HealthcareTechnology #PhysicianPractice #MedicalCoding #PhysicianEntrepreneur #PatientSafety #HealthTech #RevenueCycle #OnnX

 

Jennie Willis Was a Nurse. Then Her Daughter Zoe Became the Patient.

A nurse knew healthcare from the inside. Then her daughter Zoe became a 1-pound, 7-ounce NICU patient—and Jennie Willis discovered how quick...