McKesson Versus the Cancer Ward
A peal of laughter rang through the drip room as I walked through on my way to the nursing station, phalaenopsis orchid in hand. A tattooed man I didn’t recognize was telling stories of his hometown Indian restaurant, fireworks on the beach, plans for a “chef’s luau” this weekend. I’ve got a corporate card, he said, happy hour drinks on me.
I love the people at Hawaii Cancer Care, they’re caring and kind. But as a corporate M&A lawyer I was noticing some odd things.
One day a stray spool of Cat-6 cable appeared by the medicine fridge. Earlier, blood workers were watching payroll and benefits videos over lunch break. A second receptionist shadowed the first, asking my ID and insurance card even though they already had it on file. The new consent form bore a different legal name than the one I’d signed weeks before. Today they insisted I take a ticket with my name despite everyone knowing who I am.
Lots of extra people around, new people. A cable guy here, a note-taker there, a somber business meeting with the physicians in theconference room.
I wasn’t consciously aware of of it, didn’t put everything together, like the bird who both knows and doesn’t know the cat is watching.
A head smack moment
Without changing his intonation tattoo guy became serious. “What we’re going to do,” he said, is a single point of contact for all the scripts before they go out to the pharmacy.
Ooooh, that’s it — I thought from under my blanket as the massage-heater kicked in, tubes plugged into my chest. I googled the news and there it was, a headline.
“Hawaii Cancer Care partners with McKesson”
That’s the English translation, the actual headline was rather more polysyllabic.
Okay then. I knew exactly what they were doing and I was surprised.
They were reviewing, planning, and orchestrating a complete top-to-bottom redesign of every aspect of the clinic’s operations — patient intake, safety protocols, accounting and finance, how to store the meds, employee morale, replacing all the computers and many of the machines… all without missing a beat, rebooting in place without shutting down.
Seal Team Six had invaded the office.
In my law practice I’ve seen lots of small business acquisitions and a few restructurings. This one was unique for its speed, detail, and for lack of a better term, industrial strength competence. When you hire McKesson, I figure, you get what you pay for.
I’m confident as a patient, reassured that things will be done right with a huge well-regarded company backing it up.
My only fear is that they’ll replace the glass jar full of forbidden lollipops they keep on the counter, and the kind staff who regularly fill it.
“Are they replacing the Dum-Dums with McKesson-branded nutrition packets?” I asked a staffer who didn’t get the joke but admitted everyone was a little nervous.
Word is that the staff jobs are all safe, which makes me feel better. And last time I checked the nurses are watering the flowers I left for them.
