Wednesday, September 30, 2026

Betty’s Kidney, Ray’s Life: What a 100-Year-Old Kidney Reveals About Healthcare’s Biggest Information Problem

A mother gave her teenage son a kidney in 1978. Nearly five decades later, it still works. The bigger lesson for physicians may be about something healthcare routinely loses: continuity.

“The pathway can be complete. The clinical assessment may not be.” — Lourdes G. Bahamonde, DO, MS

 


 

The kidney lasted nearly 50 years. Why does the information behind a single healthcare encounter sometimes disappear before the claim is even submitted?

Dr. Bahamonde, a solo-practice gastroenterologist in Los Angeles, wrote this week about the tension between standardized healthcare pathways and individualized clinical judgment. Her observation is bigger than gastroenterology.

It describes modern healthcare surprisingly well.

A pathway can be complete.

Every box can be checked.

Every field can be populated.

Every task can be marked “done.”

And the patient can still fall through the cracks.

That is where this story begins.


The kidney that refuses to retire

In March 1978, Elizabeth “Betty” Vetuskey gave one of her kidneys to her 16-year-old son, Raymond “Ray” Vetuskey, at Strong Memorial Hospital in Rochester, New York.

Ray was suffering from kidney failure.

A virus had severely damaged his kidneys.

Dialysis was taking a toll.

He was losing weight.

He was losing strength.

His kidney function was worsening.

A transplant became his only chance.

Then his mother stepped forward.

Betty was 52.

She was a near-perfect match.

On March 2, 1978, mother and son went into surgery.

They were on separate gurneys.

They held hands.

Betty cried.

Ray tried to reassure her.

He had a concert to attend.

He wasn't planning on missing it.

Three weeks later, he didn't.

He went to see Genesis at the Rochester Community War Memorial.

He kept the ticket stubs.

That tiny detail may be the most important part of the entire story.

Because medicine had just done something extraordinary.

But Ray didn't spend the next 48 years thinking about medicine.

He went back to living.

He worked.

He grew older.

He had birthdays.

He had ordinary days.

He became a retired sheet-metal fabricator.

His mother continued to be part of his life.

Then Betty died in 2008.

But something she gave her son kept going.

Her kidney.

Nearly five decades later, it is still functioning.

In September 2026, the University of Rochester Medicine Transplant Institute reported that the kidney has reached approximately 100 years of biological life and that Ray is the program's longest-surviving kidney transplant recipient. He continues to receive annual follow-up.

Ray put the emotional truth more simply:

“Every day I think of her... She's right by my side, all the time.”

That is the human story.

But there is another story hiding inside it.

And this one has everything to do with how we run medical practices.


The real miracle may be continuity

When we hear “100-year-old kidney,” we naturally think about transplantation.

The surgery.

The organ.

The immunosuppression.

The medical expertise.

The technology.

But there is another word that deserves attention:

continuity.

The transplant happened once.

The care did not.

Ray has been monitored for decades.

His kidney has been followed.

His clinical information has continued to matter.

The relationship between patient and healthcare system didn't end when the operating room doors closed.

The procedure was the beginning.

Not the outcome.

The outcome was everything that happened afterward.

That distinction is incredibly important for modern healthcare.

Because we have become very good at completing tasks.

We are less consistently good at connecting them.

A referral is completed.

An authorization is completed.

A visit is completed.

A note is completed.

A claim is submitted.

A payment is posted.

A denial is processed.

The boxes are checked.

The workflow is “complete.”

But is the patient's story still connected?

That is a different question.

And it may be one of the most important questions healthcare leaders should be asking.


Here is the uncomfortable part

A claim denial may not actually be a billing problem.

It may be a continuity problem.

The denial is simply where the continuity failure becomes visible.

Think about what happens in a typical practice.

A patient calls.

The front desk schedules the appointment.

Insurance information is entered.

The patient arrives.

The nurse gathers information.

The physician evaluates the patient.

The physician documents.

Someone codes.

Someone requests authorization.

Someone submits a claim.

The payer reviews it.

The claim is denied.

Then everyone becomes interested.

Suddenly there is urgency.

Someone opens the chart.

Someone searches the note.

Someone checks the payer portal.

Someone sends a message to the physician.

Someone asks:

“Can you add more documentation?”

The physician thinks:

“I already documented that.”

The biller thinks:

“I can't find it.”

The authorization specialist thinks:

“The payer needs something else.”

The patient thinks:

“Why is this taking so long?”

Everyone is working.

Nobody is necessarily failing.

And yet the system is failing to move information cleanly.

That is the distinction.

Activity is not the same as progress.


Healthcare has a strange addiction to the downstream problem

We tend to manage problems where they become visible.

The denial happens in billing.

So we improve billing.

The authorization gets stuck.

So we hire more authorization staff.

The inbox grows.

So we buy an inbox tool.

The claim needs correction.

So we create a correction queue.

The staff is overwhelmed.

So we hire another person.

The cycle continues.

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of those interventions.

Sometimes they are necessary.

But there is a contrarian question worth asking:

What if we are repeatedly adding people and software to compensate for information problems created earlier in the workflow?

That changes the diagnosis.

And when the diagnosis changes, the solution changes.


Most revenue-cycle problems don't begin in the revenue cycle

Consider prior authorization.

A payer requires certain clinical information.

The practice submits an authorization request.

The payer asks for more documentation.

The practice searches the chart.

The physician gets interrupted.

A staff member copies information from one system into another.

The request is resubmitted.

Maybe it is approved.

Maybe it isn't.

Where did the problem begin?

Was it the payer?

Possibly.

Was it the authorization team?

Possibly.

But perhaps the real issue started when the patient was scheduled and the practice did not capture a critical piece of information that would later become necessary.

Or perhaps the clinical rationale existed in the physician's note but wasn't structured in a way that the next workflow could easily use.

Or perhaps the information existed in three places but nowhere was clearly designated as the source of truth.

The payer sees the final request.

The payer doesn't see the administrative archaeology that happened before it.

The denial becomes the headline.

The root cause remains invisible.


This is why I keep coming back to “upstream”

My thesis as a physician and founder of OnnX is straightforward:

Most of the problem starts upstream.

Not at the claim.

Not at the denial.

Not at the appeal.

Earlier.

At the moment information is captured.

At the handoff.

At the transition between front desk and clinical staff.

At the transition between clinical documentation and authorization.

At the transition between authorization and billing.

At the transition between billing and payer requirements.

That is where small inconsistencies become expensive problems.

Healthcare tends to treat those inconsistencies as separate administrative issues.

The practice experiences them as one thing.

Rework.


Rework is the silent tax on independent practices

Nobody puts “rework” on the practice's income statement as a line item.

But it is there.

It is hiding in:

Physician inbox time.

Nurse messages.

Biller corrections.

Authorization resubmissions.

Payer phone calls.

Patient callbacks.

Chart reviews.

Faxing.

Scanning.

Uploading.

Downloading.

Copying.

Pasting.

Searching.

Waiting.

Following up.

And then following up on the follow-up.

It is the administrative version of compound interest.

One tiny inefficiency isn't catastrophic.

Multiply it by hundreds of encounters.

Then thousands.

Now it becomes payroll.

Now it becomes burnout.

Now it becomes delayed cash.

Now it becomes lost physician attention.

Now it becomes a patient experience problem.


The 1.2-FTE nobody hired

This is why I think about what I call the 1.2-FTE problem.

A small practice may not think it needs another employee.

But the work exists.

Someone has to find the missing information.

Someone has to check the authorization.

Someone has to correct the claim.

Someone has to answer the payer.

Someone has to ask the physician.

Someone has to document the response.

Someone has to resubmit.

No one person owns the entire problem.

So the work gets distributed across the organization.

The MA does 15 minutes.

The nurse does 20.

The physician does 10.

The biller does 45.

The practice manager does 30.

The front desk does 15.

Congratulations.

You just created an employee.

You simply didn't give them an employee ID.

This is why headcount alone doesn't tell you whether a practice is operationally efficient.

You need to understand how much labor is being consumed by correction loops.


The best healthcare workflow may be the one nobody notices

This is where healthcare technology often gets interesting.

We love visible technology.

Dashboards.

Alerts.

AI assistants.

Analytics.

Portals.

Chatbots.

Predictive models.

Automation.

But the best workflow may be the one that disappears.

A physician shouldn't have to admire the authorization workflow.

The physician should simply know that the required information was captured.

A biller shouldn't need an exciting dashboard.

The biller should have a clean claim.

A patient shouldn't need to understand the revenue cycle.

The patient should receive care without becoming an unpaid project manager.

This is a provocative idea:

The best healthcare technology may make itself less visible, not more visible.


Three expert perspectives reinforce the same problem

1. Lourdes G. Bahamonde, DO, MS: completion is not the same as clinical judgment

Dr. Bahamonde's September 30 article in The DO is striking because she describes a problem familiar to many physicians: a standardized pathway can contain all the expected steps while still failing to preserve individualized clinical judgment.

Her line deserves to be remembered:

“The pathway can be complete. The clinical assessment may not be.”

That principle applies to revenue-cycle workflows too.

A claim can be complete.

The information behind the claim may not be.

An authorization request can be complete.

The clinical story may not be.

A checklist can be complete.

The patient's needs may not be.

Completion is not continuity.

That distinction is central to this article.


2. John Whyte, MD, MPH: medicine is more than a list of tasks

Earlier this month, John Whyte, MD, MPH, CEO of the American Medical Association, challenged the idea that medicine can be reduced to individual tasks that can simply be automated.

His argument is important for healthcare technology:

“Medicine has never simply been the completion of tasks.”

That is exactly the warning healthcare technology needs.

If a system automates a task but creates more fragmentation around the task, have we really improved healthcare?

If AI writes the note but nobody knows what information the authorization team needs, what changed?

If coding becomes faster but the clinical documentation is poorly structured, did we solve the problem?

If claims are submitted faster but more of them require correction, is speed actually the metric we should celebrate?

Automation is useful.

But automation without workflow intelligence can simply create faster rework.


3. Adam P. Sawatsky, MD, MS: what happens when efficiency changes the profession?

A September 29, 2026 JAMA Perspective by Adam P. Sawatsky, MD, MS, and Andrea N. Leep Hunderfund, MD, MHPE, examines tension between physicians' professional values and modern pressures involving market, managerial and platform-driven healthcare.

The article is particularly relevant to clinic owners because it raises a difficult question:

What happens when efficiency becomes the dominant organizing principle?

Efficiency matters.

A practice cannot survive without it.

But healthcare is not manufacturing.

A patient is not a widget.

A physician is not merely a production unit.

A clinical encounter is not simply a transaction.

When efficiency becomes disconnected from judgment, relationships and professional purpose, something important can be lost.

That is why the goal shouldn't be:

“How do we make everyone work faster?”

It should be:

“How do we remove work that never needed to exist?”

Those are very different strategies.


The statistic that should make clinic owners uncomfortable

The University of Rochester Medicine report says the average survival after living-donor kidney transplantation is approximately 15 to 20 years.

Ray's transplanted kidney has functioned for 48 years.

That doesn't mean every kidney transplant should last 48 years.

It doesn't.

Ray's age at transplantation, familial match and long-term care all contributed to this extraordinary outcome, according to University of Rochester Medicine.

But the broader lesson is powerful.

Long-term outcomes are built from multiple connected factors.

There is no single magic event.

The surgery mattered.

The donor mattered.

The match mattered.

The medications mattered.

The monitoring mattered.

The follow-up mattered.

The patient mattered.

The chain mattered.

Healthcare operations work the same way.


Your claim is a chain

Think about a claim as a chain.

Eligibility.

Scheduling.

Referral.

Authorization.

Clinical encounter.

Documentation.

Coding.

Claim creation.

Submission.

Payer adjudication.

Payment.

Denial.

Appeal.

Every link depends on information from somewhere else.

Break one link and someone downstream gets the bill.

That is why I don't think of medical billing as a standalone department.

I think of it as the final expression of everything that happened before it.

The claim is the receipt.

It is not the entire transaction.


The contrarian question: are we measuring the wrong thing?

Most practices know their:

A/R.

Collection rate.

Denial rate.

Days in A/R.

Charges.

Payments.

Write-offs.

Those numbers matter.

But what about:

How many times did this claim have to be touched?

How many people had to intervene?

How many times did someone search for missing information?

How many times did the physician get interrupted?

How many times did a payer request information the practice already had?

How many times did the patient have to call?

Those are friction metrics.

And friction is often where hidden cost lives.


A better way to study denials

Don't start with the denial.

Start with the patient.

Pick 20 recent denials.

For each one, trace the journey backward.

Ask:

Where was the information first created?

Who created it?

Where did it go next?

Who changed it?

What was missing?

When could the missing information have been identified?

Who could have fixed it before submission?

This changes the conversation.

You stop asking:

“Why did the payer deny it?”

And start asking:

“Why did our workflow allow a predictable problem to reach the payer?”

That is a much more interesting question.


Treat the denial like a crime scene

Here's a little humor for a very unfun topic.

If your practice has recurring denials, don't immediately blame the biller.

Treat the claim like a crime scene.

Work backward.

Who touched it?

When?

What changed?

Where did the evidence disappear?

Which system had the missing information?

Who knew something was missing?

Who assumed somebody else had it?

And perhaps the most important question:

Why did everyone discover the problem at the most expensive possible moment?

The answer is often the real process problem.


Myth Buster #1: “The EHR has everything”

Maybe.

That doesn't mean the workflow can use everything.

An EHR is excellent at storing information.

Storage is not the same as orchestration.

A chart can contain:

The diagnosis.

The clinical rationale.

The procedure.

The medical history.

The previous treatment.

The imaging.

The referral.

The insurance information.

And yet the next person can still ask:

“Where is it?”

That is not necessarily an information shortage.

It may be an information accessibility problem.


Myth Buster #2: “More documentation means better documentation”

No.

More words are not automatically better medicine.

More words are not automatically better billing.

More words are not automatically better compliance.

The objective should be accurate, clinically meaningful, appropriately structured documentation.

The question isn't:

“How much can we document?”

It is:

“What information needs to be captured so the next legitimate step can happen correctly?”

That's a much better question.


Myth Buster #3: “AI will solve the revenue cycle”

AI can help.

But AI is not a substitute for process design.

If the underlying workflow is chaotic, AI may simply produce a more sophisticated version of chaos.

Garbage in.

Garbage out.

Now with a beautiful user interface.

That isn't transformation.

The better question is:

Where can AI reduce human rework without replacing human accountability?

That is where the opportunity gets interesting.


What AI should do in the practice

AI can be useful at several points.

It can identify missing information.

It can extract structured data from clinical documentation.

It can compare requirements against available information.

It can summarize records.

It can identify potential inconsistencies.

It can prioritize work.

It can route exceptions.

It can reduce repetitive administrative work.

But there should be a boundary.

AI should not invent clinical facts.

It should not manufacture medical necessity.

It should not fabricate documentation.

It should not turn uncertainty into false certainty.

And it should not become an excuse to remove humans from decisions that require judgment.

The best model is often:

AI detects.

Humans decide.

The system remembers.


That last part matters

“The system remembers.”

Think about Ray's kidney.

The human body carried the biological memory of Betty's gift for decades.

Healthcare systems are not that elegant.

We repeatedly ask them to remember.

Sometimes the EHR remembers.

Sometimes the payer portal remembers.

Sometimes the spreadsheet remembers.

Sometimes the biller remembers.

Sometimes the physician remembers.

Sometimes nobody remembers.

And then the patient gets asked to explain it again.

That is not a technology problem alone.

It is a system-design problem.


The upstream framework

If you own a clinic, try this five-part framework.

1. Capture

What information is created?

Who creates it?

When?

Where?

2. Structure

Is the information captured consistently enough to be reused?

Or does every person interpret it differently?

3. Connect

Where does that information need to go next?

Authorization?

Coding?

Billing?

Referral?

Patient communication?

4. Validate

Can the system identify missing or conflicting information before the workflow moves forward?

5. Act

Who owns the next action?

Not “someone.”

A specific person or workflow.

This is how you move from reactive billing to deterministic revenue workflows.


A Monday-morning experiment

Don't buy anything.

Don't launch a transformation initiative.

Don't schedule 17 meetings.

Pick one denial.

Just one.

Trace it.

Then trace another.

Then another.

After 10 or 20, patterns will appear.

Maybe 30% involve authorization.

Maybe several involve documentation.

Maybe one payer creates a disproportionate number of problems.

Maybe the same missing field appears repeatedly.

Maybe physicians are repeatedly asked the same question.

Maybe the front desk is collecting information differently depending on who is working.

You now have something much more valuable than a generic “workflow problem.”

You have evidence.


Measure these things

Start tracking:

First-pass claim acceptance

How often does the claim move through without correction?

Preventable denial rate

Which denials could reasonably have been prevented?

Authorization rework

How often does an authorization require additional work?

Average claim touches

How many human interventions occur?

Physician clarification requests

How frequently does the physician have to reconstruct information?

Time from encounter to clean claim

How quickly can the practice create a claim that doesn't require correction?

Correction-loop frequency

How often does work move backward?

Administrative minutes per encounter

How much staff time is consumed outside direct patient care?

These metrics tell you something collections alone cannot.

They tell you how hard your system has to work to produce the same result.


The hidden cost of physician attention

There is another metric that deserves more attention:

physician attention.

A physician gets a message.

“Can you clarify this?”

Five minutes.

Another message.

“Payer needs additional documentation.”

Seven minutes.

Another.

“Please add the diagnosis.”

Three minutes.

Another.

“Claim denied.”

Ten minutes.

Individually, these tasks look harmless.

Multiply them across hundreds of encounters.

Now your highest-cost employee is doing work that may not require a physician.

That's not just a productivity issue.

It's a design failure.

A physician's scarce resource is not merely time.

It is attention.

And healthcare wastes an astonishing amount of it.


The physician should not be the integration layer

This may be one of the most important ideas in the entire article.

When healthcare systems don't communicate, people become the integration layer.

The nurse connects systems.

The biller connects systems.

The manager connects systems.

The physician connects systems.

The patient connects systems.

The patient should never have to become the middleware.

And neither should the physician.


Where OnnX fits

This is the problem I am working on with OnnX.

The thesis is not:

“Let's build another billing platform.”

There are plenty of those.

The thesis is:

Let's move revenue-cycle intelligence upstream.

If a missing piece of information can be identified before the claim is created, why wait for the payer to tell us?

If documentation can be structured closer to the point of capture, why reconstruct it later?

If a predictable payer requirement can be recognized earlier, why discover it after submission?

If information already exists, why make another human hunt for it?

The goal is not to replace the people doing the work.

It is to reduce the unnecessary work surrounding them.

Less correction.

Less searching.

Less re-entry.

Less backtracking.

Less physician interruption.

More time for care.


But there is a trap for healthcare founders

Healthcare founders should be careful here.

It is incredibly easy to build a beautiful solution around the wrong problem.

You see a denial.

You build denial software.

You see prior authorization.

You build authorization software.

You see documentation.

You build documentation software.

You see an inbox.

You build another inbox.

Soon the clinic has 11 solutions for the same patient.

That's not interoperability.

That's software sprawl.

The better question is:

What information moves through all of these workflows?

That's where the architecture gets interesting.


Legal and compliance considerations

There is no shortcut around healthcare's legal and compliance environment.

Clinical and billing workflows can involve protected health information, payer requirements, documentation standards and state and federal obligations.

Automation should therefore be designed with appropriate:

Access controls

Audit trails

Data security

Human oversight

Role-based permissions

Vendor agreements

Documentation standards

Change management

And clear accountability.

AI should assist with information handling.

It should not manufacture medical facts.

That distinction is essential.

A system that confidently invents a justification is not intelligent.

It is dangerous.


Ethical considerations

There is also an ethical question that gets overlooked when we talk about efficiency.

Efficient for whom?

The payer?

The practice?

The physician?

The patient?

Everyone?

Sometimes those interests align.

Sometimes they don't.

A faster denial process isn't necessarily better.

A faster prior authorization isn't necessarily better if the wrong information is used.

A faster claim isn't necessarily better if it contains inaccurate information.

The goal should be friction reduction without truth reduction.

That's an important distinction.

We should make healthcare easier.

We should not make it less honest.


What healthcare leaders may be missing

Here is my contrarian view:

The next major healthcare efficiency gains may not come from doing more things faster.

They may come from eliminating the things that should never have been done.

That means:

Fewer duplicate entries.

Fewer clarification messages.

Fewer authorization resubmissions.

Fewer claim corrections.

Fewer phone calls.

Fewer manual searches.

Fewer handoffs without ownership.

Fewer situations where the patient has to tell the same story again.

That is not as exciting as announcing a new AI model.

But it may matter more to the people actually running practices.


The human ROI

Healthcare leaders talk constantly about financial ROI.

Fair enough.

But there is another ROI:

human ROI.

What happens when a nurse gets 30 minutes back?

What happens when a physician gets 20 messages removed from the inbox?

What happens when a biller no longer has to chase information?

What happens when the patient doesn't need to call twice?

What happens when the practice manager can spend an afternoon improving the business instead of repairing yesterday's mistakes?

Those are real returns.

They simply don't always fit neatly into a financial dashboard.


The future isn't “more AI”

That's too easy.

The future is likely to be better-connected workflows, with AI becoming one component.

AI will increasingly help interpret information.

Automation will increasingly move information.

Humans will increasingly focus on exceptions and judgment.

But the foundation remains the same:

Good information.

At the right time.

In the right place.

With clear ownership.

That's not futuristic.

That's basic operational hygiene.

Healthcare just hasn't mastered it yet.


And now, back to Ray

Ray Vetuskey has a kidney from his mother.

He has had it for 48 years.

The kidney has now reached approximately 100 years of biological life.

His mother died in 2008.

But her gift continues.

Ray still thinks about her every day.

He still has the ticket from that Genesis concert.

That is what successful healthcare ultimately looks like.

Not another completed claim.

Not another dashboard.

Not another metric.

A patient gets to go live.

That is the outcome.


What is your practice giving back?

This is the question I would leave with every physician and clinic owner:

What could your practice give back if you eliminated the administrative friction that never needed to exist?

Maybe it's 30 minutes.

Maybe it's an hour.

Maybe it's a full evening.

Maybe it's fewer weekends spent catching up.

Maybe it's a nurse who stops dreading the authorization queue.

Maybe it's a biller who stops opening Monday morning to 47 preventable problems.

Maybe it's a patient who doesn't have to call three times.

Maybe it's simply the ability to finish clinic and go home.

Healthcare often measures what it takes.

We should also measure what it gives back.


Recent News: the bigger healthcare conversation

This week provides a useful backdrop for this discussion.

The University of Rochester Medicine story about Ray Vetuskey demonstrates the extraordinary long-term value that can come from a successful intervention followed by decades of monitoring and care.

On September 30, physician Lourdes G. Bahamonde wrote about another side of healthcare: standardized pathways can become so focused on completion that individualized clinical judgment risks getting lost.

And a September 29 JAMA Perspective by Adam P. Sawatsky, MD, MS, and Andrea N. Leep Hunderfund, MD, MHPE, examines the tension between professional values and the market, managerial and platform pressures shaping contemporary medical practice.

These stories are different.

But they point toward the same question:

Are we designing healthcare around the patient journey—or around the completion of individual tasks?

That may be one of the defining operational questions of modern medicine.


Three practical lessons

Lesson 1: Find the earliest failure point

Don't start with the denial.

Trace backward.

The earlier you identify the problem, the cheaper it usually is to fix.

Lesson 2: Separate information from action

Knowing something exists is not enough.

Someone needs to know:

What is it?

Does it matter?

Is it complete?

What happens next?

Who owns that next step?

Lesson 3: Optimize for fewer correction loops

A workflow that requires constant correction is telling you something.

Listen to it.

Don't simply hire more people to compensate for it.


FAQ

Is Ray Vetuskey's kidney really 100 years old?

University of Rochester Medicine reported that the kidney donated by his mother, Elizabeth “Betty” Vetuskey, has reached approximately 100 years of biological age. Ray received the kidney in 1978 when he was 16.

How long has Ray had the kidney?

Approximately 48 years as of 2026.

Is this a world record?

The University of Rochester describes Ray as the longest-surviving kidney transplant recipient in its program. The article does not establish that his case is the world's longest-surviving transplant.

What does a transplant story have to do with medical billing?

The connection is not the medical procedure itself.

It is continuity.

A successful healthcare journey requires information, people and decisions to remain connected across time.

Does better information eliminate denials?

No.

Payer policies, clinical complexity, eligibility, coding, documentation and other factors can all contribute to denials.

But practices can often identify predictable failure points and reduce preventable rework.

Is AI the answer?

AI can be part of the answer.

It can help extract, organize, compare and prioritize information.

But it should not replace clinical judgment or accountability.

What should a clinic owner measure first?

Start with a manageable set:

Preventable denials.

Average claim touches.

Authorization rework.

Physician clarification requests.

Time to clean claim.

Correction-loop frequency.

These metrics can expose hidden operational costs.

What is the biggest mistake practices make?

Treating every downstream problem as an isolated event.

The denial becomes a billing problem.

The authorization becomes an authorization problem.

The documentation becomes a documentation problem.

Sometimes they are actually different symptoms of the same upstream information problem.


Tools and resources

You don't need to start with another software platform.

Start with what you already have.

Your EHR.

Your clearinghouse reports.

Your payer portals.

Your authorization logs.

Your denial reports.

Your staff.

Your physician inbox.

Your patient complaints.

Then build simple operational tools:

Denial root-cause log

Authorization checklist

Information ownership map

Exception queue

Claim-touch tracker

Physician interruption log

Pre-submission validation rules

The objective isn't more administration.

It's better visibility.


The 30-day practice experiment

Week 1: Observe

Choose one service line or payer.

Track every denial, correction and authorization problem.

Don't fix anything yet.

Just observe.

Week 2: Categorize

Group problems by root cause.

Missing information.

Wrong information.

Late information.

Duplicate information.

Unclear ownership.

Payer-specific requirement.

Clinical documentation.

Eligibility.

Coding.

Week 3: Trace

Pick the three largest categories.

Trace each one backward to the earliest point where the problem could have been prevented.

Week 4: Change one thing

Don't redesign everything.

Fix one upstream failure.

Then measure whether downstream rework changes.

That's how you learn whether you've actually improved the system.


Final Thoughts

Betty Vetuskey gave her son something priceless.

She gave him a kidney.

Ray gave the story something else.

He lived.

He went to a concert.

He worked.

He grew older.

He remembered his mother.

The kidney kept working.

Forty-eight years later, it still does.

The story is remarkable because of the transplant.

But it is also remarkable because of what happened after the transplant.

Continuity.

That word deserves more attention in healthcare.

Because healthcare can perform the right procedure and still lose the thread.

It can complete the pathway and miss the patient.

It can submit the claim and lose the information.

It can document the encounter and fail to communicate what matters.

It can have all the data and still not know what to do next.

That is the paradox.

We have never had more healthcare data.

Yet people are still searching for information.

We have never had more software.

Yet people still fax documents.

We have never had more automation.

Yet physicians still receive messages asking them to explain something they already documented.

We have never had more sophisticated revenue-cycle technology.

Yet predictable problems still become denials.

Maybe the next breakthrough isn't another tool.

Maybe it's a better chain.

Capture the right information.

Connect it to the next decision.

Catch the problem before it becomes expensive.

Keep humans responsible for judgment.

And then get out of the way.

Because the best healthcare system is not the one that keeps the patient inside the system forever.

It is the one that helps the patient get back to life.

Ray had a concert to attend.

Maybe that is the real KPI.


Get Involved: Start the Conversation

Here's the question I want to put to physicians and clinic owners:

What problem in your practice looks like a billing problem but actually begins somewhere earlier?

Maybe it's prior authorization.

Maybe it's documentation.

Maybe it's scheduling.

Maybe it's eligibility.

Maybe it's the handoff between clinical and billing teams.

Maybe it's something nobody has named yet.

Tell me in the comments.

Your experience may help another physician recognize the same pattern in their practice.

Share this article with a physician, practice administrator or clinic owner who spends too much time fixing problems that should have been prevented upstream.

And if this perspective resonates, repost it so more healthcare professionals can join the conversation.

Ask the uncomfortable question.

Find the upstream problem.

Build the workflow that prevents the correction loop.


Continue the Conversation

The conversation doesn't end with one article.

I write and speak about healthcare operations, medical billing, health technology, physician entrepreneurship and the practical side of innovation.

The goal is simple:

Less theory. More useful ideas.

Explore additional perspectives and practical resources through my website, podcast, videos and social channels.

Knowledge drives progress. Start with one better question.

Check the Featured section of my LinkedIn profile for a free practical resource on medical billing and the revenue cycle. No signup required.

Visit Dr. Cham's website

Listen to the podcast on Spotify

Subscribe and watch on YouTube

Follow Dr. Cham on X

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About the Author

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

He is the founder of OnnX, an AI-powered medical billing SaaS focused on helping small and medium-sized clinics reduce administrative friction, improve information flow and address revenue-cycle problems closer to where they begin.

His central thesis is straightforward:

Most downstream healthcare problems have an upstream cause.

His work focuses on helping independent practices reduce correction loops, improve operational visibility and allow clinicians to spend more attention on patients rather than preventable administrative work.

Connect with Dr. Cham on LinkedIn to learn more.


Disclaimer

This article is provided for general educational and informational purposes only. It is not medical, legal, coding, compliance, reimbursement or financial advice.

Healthcare regulations, payer requirements and documentation standards vary by circumstance and may change.

Physicians, healthcare organizations and other professionals should consult qualified professionals for guidance concerning their particular clinical, legal, compliance or financial circumstances.


References

1. University of Rochester Medicine

“Webster Man Thrives with a ‘Rare’ Century-Old Kidney” — September 28, 2026.
Primary source for Raymond Vetuskey, his mother Elizabeth “Betty” Vetuskey, the 1978 transplant, and the kidney's extraordinary longevity.

Read the University of Rochester Medicine article

2. Lourdes G. Bahamonde, DO, MS

“The Elephant in the Room: What Medicine Misses When Care Becomes Fragmented” — September 30, 2026.
Dr. Bahamonde discusses how standardized healthcare pathways can miss individualized clinical judgment and what happens when care becomes fragmented.

Read Dr. Bahamonde’s article in The DO

3. Adam P. Sawatsky, MD, MS & Andrea N. Leep Hunderfund, MD, MHPE

“Health Care’s Identity Crisis—Is Medicine Still a Profession?” — JAMA, September 29, 2026.
The Perspective examines tensions between physicians' professional values and market, managerial, and platform pressures shaping contemporary healthcare.

Read the article in JAMA


Final Invitation

What if your next revenue-cycle improvement didn't begin with the denial?

What if it began with the first piece of information that made the denial possible?

Tell me where information gets lost in your practice.

Then share this article with another physician or clinic owner who may be fighting the same problem.

Because sometimes the biggest healthcare improvement isn't doing more.

It's making sure the right information survives the journey.

#Healthcare #MedicalBilling #RevenueCycleManagement #HealthcareAI #PhysicianLeadership #ClinicManagement #MedicalPractice #HealthcareInnovation #HealthTech #PhysicianEntrepreneur #HealthcareOperations #PriorAuthorization #MedicalCoding #DenialsManagement #PatientCare #DigitalHealth #IndependentPractice #OnnX

 

Tuesday, September 29, 2026

Kev Rands Got a New Heart. Fourteen Years Later, He Has Something Healthcare Rarely Talks About: An Ordinary Life

Kev Rands' “fantastic, mundane” life raises a bigger question: If healthcare is supposed to give people their lives back, why are we using AI to create more activity instead of removing the work that gets in the way?



“We will have to decide not only which parts of medicine can be automated, but which parts we want to automate.” — John Whyte, MD, MPH, CEO, American Medical Association, STAT, September 9, 2026

 

The most extraordinary thing about a heart transplant may be what happens when the patient no longer needs to think about the heart transplant.

Kev Rands was just 10 days old when he underwent his first open-heart surgery.

His mother noticed he wasn't feeding properly.

She called the midwife.

The midwife called the GP.

The GP sent him to hospital.

And suddenly, a newborn baby's life became a medical emergency.

Rands had a rare congenital heart condition called double inlet left ventricle.

Doctors operated.

Then they operated again.

Throughout his childhood and adolescence, he underwent six open-heart surgeries, along with numerous other procedures involving coils, stents, pacemakers and heart valves.

Hospital became part of childhood.

At school, he was frequently absent.

Sometimes he spent five or six weeks in hospital.

His medication made him feel unwell.

He developed blood clots.

His baby teeth turned black and fell out.

It was, by almost any definition, an extraordinary medical life.

But eventually the doctors reached the point where another repair wasn't enough.

At 23, Rands was placed on the heart-transplant waiting list.

Then he waited.

For five years.

There were phone calls.

A heart might be available.

He would prepare.

Then another call:

The cross-match wasn't right.

The heart wasn't suitable.

Try again.

Eventually, after two years of this emotional roller coaster, he asked to come off the transplant list.

“It was all too much.”

Then his condition deteriorated.

He went back on the list.

At 27, the call finally came.

Rands received the heart of an unknown young man.

The donor's name has not been publicly disclosed.

The operation took place at Freeman Hospital in Newcastle, after hospitals in London, Bristol and Leeds reportedly declined his case because of its complexity.

And then something remarkable happened.

Nothing.

No more dramatic medical plot twist.

No blockbuster ending.

No miracle montage.

Instead, Kev Rands got to live.

Fourteen years later, he is 41 years old, married, and the father of an 11-year-old daughter and a 4-year-old son.

He works as a van salesman.

He goes to the gym.

He takes family photographs.

He has birthdays, errands, shopping trips and ordinary mornings.

And he describes his life with two words that seem almost hilariously understated after everything he has survived:

“Fantastic, mundane.”

Think about that.

Six open-heart surgeries.

Years on a transplant waiting list.

Cancelled transplant calls.

A complex operation involving a stranger's heart.

And the reward?

A boring Tuesday.

A family dinner.

A trip to the gym.

A child's birthday.

A normal life.

Mundane.

And perhaps that is the most profound thing about the story.


Maybe Healthcare Has Been Measuring the Wrong Thing

Healthcare loves extraordinary outcomes.

We celebrate the surgery.

The breakthrough drug.

The new device.

The transplant.

The AI model.

The number of patients treated.

The number of claims processed.

The number of denials overturned.

The number of notes generated.

The number of tasks completed.

We love numbers.

Numbers make excellent dashboards.

They also make excellent hiding places.

Because patients don't necessarily want more healthcare.

They want more life.

Kev Rands didn't need a heart transplant so he could become an excellent long-term heart-transplant patient.

He needed one so he could stop being a patient.

That distinction matters.

The best outcome of healthcare may sometimes be the moment healthcare becomes irrelevant to someone's everyday life.

A successful transplant eventually becomes:

“Dad is going to the gym.”

A successful cancer treatment eventually becomes:

“Mom is going to work.”

A successful pediatric intervention eventually becomes:

“She's going to school.”

The medical intervention disappears into the background.

Life takes over.

That may be the real definition of success.

And it raises a rather uncomfortable question for healthcare technology:

What if technology should be judged by what it allows people to stop doing?


We Have an Odd Obsession With Making Healthcare More Efficient

Healthcare has spent decades trying to make things faster.

Faster documentation.

Faster coding.

Faster claims.

Faster authorizations.

Faster scheduling.

Faster eligibility checks.

Faster appeals.

Faster communication.

Now we have AI to make many of those things even faster.

Wonderful.

But faster is not automatically better.

If I give you a faster way to dig a hole you don't need, congratulations.

You are now an extremely efficient hole digger.

Healthcare may occasionally resemble this.

We build a workflow.

The workflow creates administrative work.

Then we build software to automate the administrative work.

Then we add AI to automate the software.

Then we create a dashboard to measure how efficiently the AI automated the software that automated the work created by the workflow.

At some point, someone should probably ask:

Why are we digging the hole?


The New Question for AI

This is why a recent comment from John Whyte, MD, MPH, CEO of the American Medical Association, caught my attention.

Writing in STAT this month about AI and medicine, Whyte made an important distinction:

“We should not confuse the automation of medical tasks with the automation of medicine itself.”

That's a much more interesting AI conversation.

Because the question isn't simply:

What can AI automate?

AI can automate a lot.

The better question is:

What should we automate?

And I would add a third:

What should we eliminate altogether?

Those are three very different questions.


Automation Is Not the Same as Improvement

Imagine a physician practice with a recurring problem.

A claim keeps getting rejected because some piece of information is missing or inconsistent.

The traditional response is:

  1. Find the denial.
  2. Identify the problem.
  3. Contact someone.
  4. Correct the information.
  5. Resubmit.
  6. Monitor.
  7. Repeat.

Now introduce AI.

AI can potentially:

  1. Find the denial.
  2. Identify the problem.
  3. Draft the correction.
  4. Generate the appeal.
  5. Route the task.
  6. Monitor the status.
  7. Repeat.

That sounds impressive.

And it may be useful.

But here's the annoying question:

Why did the problem reach the claim in the first place?

We have automated the repair.

We haven't necessarily fixed the cause.

That's the difference between automating a broken workflow and redesigning the system that created the workflow.


Healthcare Has an Activity Addiction

Look at the language we use.

Claim submitted.

Authorization requested.

Appeal filed.

Task assigned.

Message sent.

Chart closed.

Account worked.

Case escalated.

Everything sounds busy.

Very little tells us whether anything actually happened.

A submitted claim is not payment.

An authorization request is not authorization.

A referral is not an appointment.

An appeal is not a successful appeal.

A message is not communication until someone receives it and acts on it.

A task marked “complete” is not necessarily a problem solved.

Healthcare has developed a strange substitute for progress:

activity that looks like progress.

And AI is extraordinarily good at producing activity.


The Billion-Dollar Question May Be: What Work Should Disappear?

Recent healthcare technology discussions are increasingly moving in this direction.

A September 25 HealthLeaders analysis reported that healthcare leaders looking at AI and clinician burden emphasized workflow redesign alongside technology, rather than treating technology alone as the solution.

That distinction is crucial.

Because adding technology to a bad workflow can simply give the bad workflow a faster engine.

The real opportunity is different:

Use technology to make the bad workflow unnecessary.

That is much harder.

It is also much more valuable.


The Most Expensive Software in Healthcare Might Be a Person

Consider what happens inside a physician-owned practice.

A patient's information is incomplete.

Someone notices.

A medical assistant sends a message.

The physician responds.

The scheduler checks something.

The billing team discovers another problem.

Someone logs into a payer portal.

Someone makes a phone call.

Someone waits on hold.

Someone documents the phone call.

Someone follows up.

Someone checks again.

Someone asks:

“Did anyone ever hear back?”

This is not a software stack.

This is a human stack.

And humans are incredibly expensive middleware.

We don't usually call them middleware, of course.

We call them:

“Staff.”

“Care coordinators.”

“Practice managers.”

“Billing specialists.”

“Administrative support.”

And they are often extraordinarily good at compensating for broken processes.

That is exactly why broken processes survive.

Humans are too good at rescuing them.


The Healthcare System's Secret Superpower Is Human Compensation

Think about how many healthcare workflows function because somebody remembers.

Someone remembers to call the patient.

Someone remembers to check eligibility.

Someone remembers the authorization expires Friday.

Someone notices the payer changed.

Someone recognizes that the diagnosis doesn't match the procedure.

Someone catches the missing documentation.

Someone says:

“Wait. That doesn't look right.”

That human vigilance saves healthcare every day.

But it is not scalable infrastructure.

If the process depends on one exceptionally attentive person catching the same error 400 times a month, the organization hasn't solved the problem.

It has hired a hero.

Heroes are wonderful.

Systems are better.


Most of the Problem Starts Upstream

This is where the medical billing problem becomes more interesting.

We tend to treat billing as something that happens after care.

The patient is seen.

The claim is created.

The payer responds.

Then the revenue cycle team goes to work.

But the billing problem often begins much earlier.

At intake.

During scheduling.

At registration.

During documentation.

When insurance information changes.

When an authorization is requested.

When clinical and operational information don't line up.

The downstream claim is simply where the problem becomes visible.

That is different.

The claim may be the messenger.

And we have a habit of shooting the messenger.


Healthcare Billing Is a Data Problem Before It Is a Workflow Problem

This is the central idea behind OnnX:

Healthcare billing is a data-quality problem, not simply a tooling problem.

The industry has become extremely sophisticated at managing downstream uncertainty.

Denial management.

A/R management.

Appeal management.

Claim scrubbing.

Coding review.

Payment reconciliation.

All valuable.

But what if we spend less time asking:

“How do we process the problem?”

and more time asking:

“Why did the problem exist?”

That is a different operating philosophy.

Instead of:

More downstream intervention.

Think:

Better upstream structure.

Instead of:

More follow-up.

Think:

Fewer reasons to follow up.

Instead of:

More automation.

Think:

Less work.


The Difference Between “Submitted” and “Solved”

This may sound like semantics.

It isn't.

Suppose a clinic submits 10,000 claims.

That's impressive.

Unless 1,500 require intervention.

Then the real question becomes:

What happened to those 1,500?

Suppose the practice processes 2,000 denials.

Great.

Unless 1,300 were caused by the same three recurring problems.

Then the achievement isn't really “2,000 denials managed.”

It may be:

“We discovered three problems we haven't eliminated.”

That's a completely different way of looking at revenue cycle management.

And potentially a much more productive one.


The Prior Authorization Machine

Prior authorization makes this especially visible.

The American Medical Association's 2025 physician survey reported that physicians complete an average of 40 prior authorizations per week, consuming about 13 hours of physician and staff time weekly. The survey also found that 94% of physicians said prior authorization contributes to burnout, while 95% said it delays access to necessary care.

The obvious response is:

“Let's build better AI for prior authorization.”

And perhaps we should.

But the deeper question is:

Why does the healthcare system require so much human labor to move information that often already exists somewhere inside the healthcare ecosystem?

The answer is often fragmentation.

The information exists.

But it may be sitting in different systems.

Different formats.

Different fields.

Different workflows.

Different people's heads.

So humans become the bridge.

Again.


AI Can Be the Bridge—or It Can Become Another Toll Booth

AI can absolutely reduce administrative burden.

But AI itself is not the strategy.

That's an important distinction.

We could deploy AI everywhere and still have a terrible healthcare system.

Why?

Because AI can optimize a bad process.

It can also create new work.

New alerts.

New outputs.

New exceptions.

New things to review.

New dashboards.

New “AI-generated recommendations” someone must approve.

Suddenly we have:

AI creating work for humans to supervise the AI that was supposed to reduce human work.

That would be a magnificent joke if it weren't happening.


“Human in the Loop” Shouldn't Mean “Human Doing Everything”

There is a reasonable argument for human oversight.

Healthcare involves risk.

Clinical judgment matters.

Patients are not spreadsheets.

AI should not casually make consequential decisions without appropriate oversight.

John Whyte makes this point in his recent STAT essay: AI can help physicians search information, document care and reduce administrative work, but medicine still requires judgment, relationships, values and human responsibility.

But there is a difference between:

human oversight

and

human participation in every tiny administrative step.

A physician should review a clinically meaningful recommendation.

A physician should not necessarily be required to rescue a missing demographic field.

A practice manager should oversee operations.

They should not spend Friday afternoon hunting through payer portals for information that should have been structured automatically.

A biller should exercise judgment.

They should not spend half the day repeatedly correcting the same preventable error.

Human-in-the-loop should mean:

humans handle what requires humans.

Not:

humans remain trapped inside every workflow because nobody redesigned it.


What If We Stopped Asking “What Can AI Do?”

Try this instead.

Question 1:

What work is genuinely necessary?

Question 2:

What work exists because the system is poorly designed?

Question 3:

What work exists because information is incomplete?

Question 4:

What work exists because of unnecessary handoffs?

Question 5:

What work should be automated?

Question 6:

What work should simply disappear?

That last question is the one healthcare technology doesn't ask often enough.


The Handoff Tax

Every handoff introduces risk.

Patient → front desk.

Front desk → clinical team.

Clinical team → authorization team.

Authorization team → payer.

Payer → practice.

Practice → billing.

Billing → payer.

Payer → billing.

Billing → physician.

Physician → staff.

Staff → patient.

At every transition, information can be:

  • lost
  • delayed
  • reinterpreted
  • duplicated
  • mistyped
  • misunderstood
  • forgotten

We then hire people to coordinate the handoffs.

Then we buy software to coordinate the coordinators.

Then we add AI to coordinate the software.

At some point, maybe the boldest innovation isn't better coordination.

Maybe it is:

fewer handoffs.


A Referral Is Not Treatment

A referral is not treatment.

An authorization request is not approval.

A submitted claim is not payment.

A denial appeal is not resolution.

A message sent is not a completed communication.

A task assigned is not a completed task.

This distinction sounds obvious.

Yet healthcare workflows routinely measure the first thing because it is easier to measure.

Activity is visible.

Completion is harder.

The future of healthcare operations should move toward measuring what actually matters.

Not:

“How many tasks did we touch?”

But:

“How many problems disappeared?”


The Real ROI Isn't Always Dollars

Healthcare executives understandably ask:

How much money did the technology save?

Good question.

But there is another question.

How much human attention did it return?

Suppose technology saves a practice 100 administrative hours per month.

Where did those hours go?

If they simply became 100 more hours of administrative work, the system hasn't created much human freedom.

If they become:

  • more patient time
  • fewer late evenings
  • better staff retention
  • fewer interruptions
  • faster resolution
  • more time for practice improvement
  • less physician inbox time

then the return is different.

It is operational.

Financial.

And human.


What Should Physicians Get Back?

This is the question I care about most.

Not:

How much more can physicians do?

But:

What should physicians no longer have to do?

Should a physician have to chase documentation because a downstream process can't determine what's missing?

Should a physician have to repeatedly answer administrative questions caused by disconnected systems?

Should a practice owner personally intervene because staff cannot see where a claim stalled?

Should highly trained clinicians spend their attention on work that a well-designed system could prevent?

The answer isn't “automate everything.”

The answer is:

protect human attention.

Because attention is one of the scarcest resources in healthcare.

And unlike software licenses, you cannot renew it.


The Goal Isn't to Replace Humans

This matters.

The interesting future isn't:

AI replaces the biller.

It is:

AI removes the repetitive work that prevents the biller from using judgment.

It isn't:

AI replaces the physician.

It is:

AI removes administrative noise so the physician can spend more attention on the patient.

It isn't:

AI eliminates staff.

It is:

AI eliminates unnecessary work.

That distinction changes everything.

The goal isn't fewer humans.

The goal is fewer humans doing work that machines should have prevented them from needing to do.


Kev Rands Gives Us the Best Test

Here's the test I'd apply to almost every healthcare technology:

What does the human get back?

Kev Rands received a donor heart.

What did he get back?

Not another medical procedure.

Not another complicated care pathway.

He got:

A wife.

Two children.

A gym.

A job.

Family photographs.

Ordinary mornings.

Ordinary problems.

Ordinary life.

He got to become something more interesting than a patient.

He got to become Kev.

And that is why his phrase sticks:

“Fantastic, mundane.”

The mundane wasn't the consolation prize.

It was the outcome.


Maybe “Boring” Is the Future of Healthcare

Healthcare technology companies love words like:

Transformative.

Revolutionary.

Disruptive.

Autonomous.

Generative.

Predictive.

Intelligent.

But the best technology may produce none of those feelings.

It may feel boring.

The authorization is already there.

The insurance information is correct.

The claim doesn't need fixing.

The staff member doesn't need to call.

The physician doesn't receive another notification.

The patient doesn't have to explain the same thing twice.

The account gets paid.

Nobody celebrates.

Nobody writes a press release.

Nobody posts a LinkedIn announcement.

It just worked.

That may be the highest compliment healthcare technology can receive.


The Best AI May Be the AI Nobody Talks About

We tend to evaluate AI by what it produces.

A note.

A summary.

A prediction.

A recommendation.

A claim.

An appeal.

But perhaps we should also evaluate AI by what it prevents.

A phone call.

A denial.

A duplicate entry.

A missing field.

A needless handoff.

A repeated question.

A physician interruption.

A staff escalation.

A patient delay.

That changes the scoreboard.

Instead of:

“Look how much AI did.”

We could say:

“Look how much unnecessary work disappeared.”

That is much harder to market.

It may also be much more valuable.


The Future of Medical Billing Might Be Less Billing

That sounds ridiculous.

It may actually be the point.

If we improve the quality of information at the source, fewer claims should require intervention.

If we reduce ambiguity, fewer people should need to clarify it.

If we reduce handoffs, fewer things should get lost.

If we improve consistency, fewer exceptions should occur.

If we eliminate preventable problems, fewer staff hours should be spent fixing them.

So perhaps the future of revenue cycle management isn't:

more sophisticated billing.

Perhaps it is:

less unnecessary billing work.

The best revenue-cycle department may not be the one that handles the most problems.

It may be the one that creates the fewest problems for itself.


A Simple Practice Audit

You can test this tomorrow without buying anything.

Ask your team five questions.

1. What do you repeatedly fix?

Not occasionally.

Repeatedly.

2. What information do you repeatedly chase?

If the answer is “the same information,” you've probably found an upstream problem.

3. Where do the most handoffs occur?

Map them.

Don't assume they're necessary.

4. Which tasks are “completed” but not actually resolved?

This is where activity metrics become dangerous.

5. If we could permanently delete one administrative task, what would it be?

Don't ask leadership first.

Ask the people doing the work.

They know where the bodies are buried.


Then Ask the More Interesting Question

Once you've identified the annoying task, don't immediately ask:

“Which software can automate it?”

Ask:

“Why does this task exist?”

Then:

“What information would have prevented it?”

Then:

“Where should that information have been captured?”

Then:

“Why wasn't it?”

That takes you upstream.

And once you're upstream, you're no longer simply doing workflow optimization.

You're doing system design.


Healthcare Doesn't Need More Digital Busywork

The industry already has enough software.

Enough dashboards.

Enough alerts.

Enough portals.

Enough passwords.

Enough notifications.

Enough “action required” messages.

Enough systems that promise to simplify healthcare while adding another login.

The next generation of healthcare technology should have a more difficult mission:

remove complexity rather than decorate it.

Don't make the maze prettier.

Make the maze smaller.

Don't make the paperwork faster.

Ask why the paperwork exists.

Don't make physicians better at administrative work.

Give administrative work less access to physicians.

Don't automate every problem.

Prevent more problems from becoming problems.


That Is the Difference Between Automation and Design

Automation asks:

“How can we make this task faster?”

Design asks:

“Why are we doing this task?”

Automation improves the process.

Design questions the process.

Automation can save minutes.

Design can eliminate the need for the minutes.

That distinction is easy to miss because automation produces impressive demos.

Design produces fewer things to demo.

And fewer things happening is sometimes the whole point.


The Strange Lesson of an Anonymous Heart

There is something deeply human about Kev Rands' story.

He doesn't know the donor's name.

The donor's family doesn't appear to know him personally.

There is no neat Hollywood ending.

No reunion.

No handshake.

No photograph of the two families together.

There is simply a decision made by strangers.

Someone said yes.

And years later, another family is living because of it.

Rands has sent photographs to the donor's relatives through the NHS.

He hasn't received a response.

Still, he wanted them to know:

“I didn't waste it.”

That may be one of the most powerful measures of healthcare.

Not how much happened.

But what happened because someone cared enough to make the right thing possible.


The Ultimate Healthcare Metric Might Be Life Outside Healthcare

Maybe we have been looking at the healthcare system from the wrong direction.

We measure:

hospitalizations.

visits.

procedures.

claims.

codes.

denials.

payments.

workflows.

tasks.

Maybe we should also measure something much simpler:

How much life happens outside the system because the system worked?

For Kev Rands, that life is a family.

For a physician, it might be dinner at home.

For a nurse, it might be leaving on time.

For a practice manager, it might be one afternoon without a fire.

For a patient, it might be never having to call the billing office.

These aren't small outcomes.

They're the reason the system exists.


The Contrarian Future

The healthcare industry is asking:

How can AI help us do more?

I think there is a better question:

How can AI help us need less?

Less rework.

Less chasing.

Less duplication.

Less manual reconciliation.

Less administrative noise.

Less handoff.

Less uncertainty.

Less time spent fixing predictable problems.

Less time spent asking:

“Who was supposed to do this?”

And more time doing what only humans can do.

Care.

Judgment.

Conversation.

Empathy.

Relationships.

Life.


Final Thoughts

1. Stop confusing activity with outcomes.

A submitted claim is not revenue. A requested authorization is not approval. A closed task is not necessarily a solved problem. Measure completion, not motion.

2. Move upstream.

When the same problem repeatedly appears downstream, don't merely automate the repair. Find where the information first became unreliable and fix the source.

3. Protect human attention.

The purpose of healthcare AI should not be to make physicians, staff and administrators capable of doing an infinite amount of administrative work.

It should be to make that work require less of them.

Kev Rands received a stranger's heart.

Fourteen years later, his greatest achievement isn't another medical milestone.

It's that he has an ordinary life.

A wife.

Two children.

A gym.

A job.

A Tuesday.

He calls it:

“Fantastic, mundane.”

Maybe that is what healthcare should aspire to more often.

Not extraordinary healthcare experiences.

Not endless healthcare activity.

Not more technology for technology's sake.

But a system that quietly works well enough that people can get back to the thing they came for in the first place:

their lives.

And perhaps the best healthcare technology isn't the technology that makes healthcare more impressive.

It's the technology that makes healthcare less necessary in the moments when it doesn't need to be there.


One Question for Physicians, Practice Owners and Healthcare Operators

What is one administrative task your team performs every week that should probably not exist at all?

Not the task you'd like to automate.

The task you'd like to delete.

What is it?

Why does it exist?

And what would have to change upstream for it to disappear?

Tell me in the comments.

Then share this with the person in your organization who spends too much of their day fixing problems that should have been prevented upstream.

Because perhaps the next healthcare breakthrough isn't another thing we can automate.

Perhaps it's something we no longer need to do.


About the Author

Dr. Daniel Cham is a physician and medical consultant with expertise in medical technology consulting, healthcare management, and medical billing. He focuses on practical insights that help healthcare professionals navigate complex challenges at the intersection of healthcare, technology and medical practice.

Connect with Dr. Cham on LinkedIn to learn more.

PS: A free resource is available in the Featured section of my LinkedIn profile—no signup needed.


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Healthcare is changing quickly. But the most important question isn't simply what technology comes next.

It's what that technology makes possible for patients, physicians and healthcare teams.

Knowledge drives progress. Start your journey here.

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Sources & Further Reading

1.     NHS Blood and Transplant — Kev Rands' story
The official NHS account of Kev Rands, including his rare congenital heart condition, six open-heart surgeries, first surgery at 10 days old, transplant, and life after receiving an anonymous donor heart.
NHS Blood and Transplant: Kev Rands' story

2.      John Whyte, MD, MPH — STAT
The AMA CEO's September 9, 2026 essay examining AI in medicine and the distinction between automating medical tasks and replacing the broader practice of medicine.
STAT: “AI can master medical tasks. Practicing medicine is much more than that”

3.     American Medical Association — Prior Authorization Survey
The AMA's 2026 report on its 2025 physician survey, including the findings that physicians complete an average of 40 prior authorizations per week, that the process consumes about 13 hours of physician and staff time weekly, and that 94% say prior authorization contributes to burnout.
AMA: Prior authorization reform survey

4.     HealthLeaders — Clinician burden and workflow redesign
A September 25, 2026 analysis examining why technology alone may not reduce clinician burden and highlighting the importance of workflow redesign and clinician involvement in AI implementation.
HealthLeaders: “Is the Answer to Reducing Clinician Burden Just Technology?”

5.     NHS Blood and Transplant — Heart transplantation
Official NHS information on heart transplantation, including the transplant process, waiting, donor matching and life after transplantation.
NHS Blood and Transplant: Heart transplantation


Disclaimer

This article is intended for educational and informational purposes only. It does not constitute medical, legal, financial, coding, billing, compliance or other professional advice. Healthcare regulations, payer requirements and reimbursement policies vary and change over time. Readers should consult appropriate qualified professionals and authoritative sources when making clinical, operational, financial or business decisions.

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