
Attending TEDMED has been on my bucket list for several years. I was selected as a delegate and last week, I packed my bags, headed to Washington, D.C., and jumped in.
The first evening featured Kishi Bashi, who graced the stage with a fantastic and inspiring violin performance that was unique, beautiful, and created a palpable connection between music and the work ahead at TEDMED. Using improvisational techniques, Kishi demonstrated the impact and the power of being able to be fully present. It was memorable and remarkable and wonderful way to open the event.
Immediately following that bold grand opening, TEDMED’s signature speakers took the stage, one-by-one, with 18-minute monologues designed to challenge, inspire, teach, entertain, and share. Although I had watched hundreds of TED talks in the past, being present changed everything. On the first night, I found myself hanging on each and every word and looking for the meaning, the lesson, and the “so what?” in everything the speakers said. Admittedly, I felt disappointed and the thoughts running through my head were judgmental, argumentative, and aggressive. I wanted to argue their points, offer counter examples, and ask questions. I didn’t think that the speakers were original, their ideas new, or their points thought-provoking enough. I watched as others cheered and wondered what I was missing and why I had invested so much money in attending ($5,000 to participate as a delegate). I felt ripped off and disillusioned as I left the Kennedy Center that night.
Walking away, I called a good friend and shared my unfiltered thoughts with her, complaining, whining, and showering her with my negativity. She let me go on and on about how I can’t believe that we are still talking about the same things that we were talking about when I was in grad school – the same problems, the same solutions, just different catch phrases and different players. We hung up and I instantly regretted sharing my first impressions, knowing that often comes back to bite me. During the long walk back to my hotel near Union Station, I calmed down and began to reflect on the day. I slowly took stock of my reaction. My frustration turned to guilt. I felt guilty for being so judgmental and so closed minded. I questioned the source of my arrogance and the root of my dissatisfaction.
In an effort to ensure that I got “a return on my investment,” I went back to the Kennedy Center the next day with a simple goal: to meet at least 20 TEDMED delegates, that’s what the participants at the live event are called. One by one, I met scientists, medical students, public health advocates, engineers, artists, and writers. With each new contact, I inquired about his or her journey to TEDMED asking, “What are you looking for here?” I learned about their work and their passions – the organizations they run or serve, the patients they help, the students they teach. They told me their stories. And because they did, everything changed.
As I listened to each speaker’s 18 minutes of courage – it’s a huge stage in front of a huge audience – I was able to hear it differently than the day before. The topics, the ideas, the stories – suddenly, I understood where they fit. I connected each speaker’s message with the work that my fellow delegates were doing and the constraints within which many are working. I thought about my own work and how it connects, or doesn’t, to the opportunities that were shared from the stage. I worked hard to listen without judgment, to consider without challenging, and to allow all ideas to wash over me without feeling pressured to take action, form an opinion, or make progress in some way.
One by one, each speaker opened our eyes to new ideas about how to begin to thinking about doing health and healthcare differently; about embracing wellbeing and building our communities thoughtfully and deliberately with the backdrop of reality, struggle, and juxtaposition notwithstanding. Gary Slutkin, MD, Founder of Cure Violence, shared the dramatic results of his organization’s program to curb gun violence in America’s most dangerous cities, while the Senate was simultaneously voting against seven gun control amendments that the majority of Americans supported. Jonathan Bush, Founder of Athena Health, explained how entrepreneurs, not bureaucrats, are the key to the future of healthcare and so eloquently offering his call to action to regulators stating, “If you really care, get out of the government, get onto the field, and start a company.” I couldn’t help but think of all the organizations, including Parkland Health & Hospital System, who have to dedicate excessive time and resources to responding to regulators while doing the best they can to serve a seemingly ever-expanding population in need of safety net care. TEDMED speakers aren’t just talking about change – they are living it, pushing it, demanding it.
During each break at the Hive, an amazing, high-energy space designed to marry highly innovative technology with social connection and hands-on activities, I met new delegates and made more connections. The diversity of opinions was astounding. Each person had a different “favorite” speaker and the messages that were most meaningful were as varied as the attendees themselves. Many delegates seemed to resonate with the big data ideas – liberating the data that the 3G/4G carriers collect about us (our “digital breadcrumbs”) so that we can benefit from the insight it provides into our behaviors, our habits, and ultimately, our health. Others were blown away by the personal stories of physicians in the field who shared regrets about judging patients, not knowing enough, or not having the right answer at the right time. My personal favorite was a writer for The New Yorker, Andrew Solomon, who courageously shared his contemplations on richness of difference, the changing relationship of illness and identity, and the boundless nature of a parent’s love and acceptance of a child. The common thread among all of the conversations though, was that there is so much to learn in telling stories, in coming together, in sharing successes, and even more importantly, sharing our failures, frustrations, wishes, and that solution that just might be closer than we think.
Each session on the main stage in the Opera House was more meaningful than the previous one. The sessions were funny, emotionally draining, brain-straining, and smart. The entertainment that separated the sessions was phenomenal, provided a much needed shift in focus, and in several cases, was more unique than anything any of us had ever seen. In a quiet moment, I realized that TEDMED had somehow changed dramatically for me. I was present, engaged, and suddenly impressed with everyone and everything. One thing soon became clear. TEDMED didn’t change this past week. I did.
Admittedly, I’ve struggled this year. I have struggled to maintain boundless energy and the relentless pursuit of excellence and innovation in the healthcare space that has become my trademark in recent years. I am not a very patient person and when I started this company I explained to anyone who would listen that the goal was to transform healthcare, one project or one client at a time. We have succeeded in building an amazing base of intelligent, top-tier healthcare clients who allow us the privilege of working with them to achieve their goals and improve the care that they deliver. We have succeeded in building an arsenal of creative tools for facilitation and innovation, for driving progress and changing the culture. Meanwhile, the healthcare crisis has continued to spiral out of control, segments of our population continue to get left out of any progress that is being made, and costs continue to escalate while quality remains stagnant. Admittedly, what we are doing individually and collectively does not seem to be working – at least not fast enough.
I thought I was going to TEDMED to find new answers to problems old and new alike. I thought I was going to TEDMED to meet the movers and shakers, the innovators, the inventors, the brave people who push the envelope, who aren’t afraid to fail, and when they fall, they get right back up and try again. This week I found some people who fit that description, but more importantly, learned that when we are all together, each of us is more likely to exhibit those characteristics than we might be when we are alone.
On the last day, I couldn’t help but reflect upon my bad attitude and negativity from that first night. With a heavy head, I admitted to myself that the judgment, disappointment, and disillusion that I directed at those speakers was really how I was feeling about myself. The frustration with the lack of new ideas, with the absence of solutions – that frustration was with myself. Ironically, I didn’t need to go to TEDMED to find others – I needed to go to TEDMED to find the creative, passionate, enthusiastic, and visionary parts of myself that I seem to have lost in the recent months. In the end, I found just that, but not through the sessions, or the music, or the interactions in the Hive, but through the magic in the intersection of all of those things. I now understand this is the magic of TEDMED. In order to move the needle, make progress, truly transform healthcare and bring needed quality, care, and efficiency to the forefront, we need to have real conversations and include far more people than those currently participating. We need to come together and challenge the status quo in a more meaningful way – we need to reject the idea that incremental improvements will get us where we need to go. It’s time to consider new models – new ways of thinking, new leaders, new ways of educating care givers, patients, and communities about what an inclusive and functional healthcare system looks like.
So was TEDMED worth $5,000? On a personal level, the boundless energy and the drive to relentlessly pursue excellence and innovation in the healthcare space that I lost is recent months has returned with a vengeance. Can you put a price on finding yourself and rediscovering your passion?
Juliet L. Rogers, PhD, MPH, is President & CEO of Blue Cottage Consulting.