Jennifer Frank, MD

I have a love-hate relationship with patient reviews and satisfaction scores. I love good reviews and hate bad ones. Actually, I skim good reviews and then dwell for days on the negative ones, trying to rack my brain as to what I did wrong. Like everyone else, I have off days when I’m tired or distracted or just overwhelmed. Though I try to bring my A game to every patient visit, realistically, I know that I don’t always achieve this. But, for me, the difference in my best visits and good-enough visits is the difference between a 4-star and 5-star review. What’s up with those 1-star reviews?

Many, many years ago, when patient satisfaction scores were in their infancy, our clinic rewarded any physician who got a 100% satisfaction score. On the surface that makes perfect sense – of course, our patients should be satisfied 100% of the time, right? When I asked one of the winners of this competition how he did it (I never scored 100%), he told me, “I just do whatever the patient wants me to do.” Yikes, I thought at the time. That may be the recipe for an A+ for patient satisfaction but not for quality or outcomes.

As I’ve matured in my practice, I have learned somewhat to balance the positives and the negatives, recognizing that I can’t make every patient happy with every interaction. Sometimes, I know that they are going to be unhappy, such as when I decline to refill their drug of abuse. Other times, I have to exercise my best medical judgment and hope that my explanation does not alienate the patient. After all, when I say “no” to a patient request, it is with their overall health and well-being in mind. But I would be lying if I said that I have matured to the point that I’m not bothered by a negative review or a patient choosing to take their care elsewhere.

Most of us seek and welcome feedback. Over time, I’ve learned to do this during the visit by asking “Am I giving you too much information?” or “What do you think of the plan?” or “What’s most important to you?” There are times when I conclude the visit and know that the patient is not satisfied but remain unable to ferret out where I let them down – even, on occasion, when I ask them directly. Ideally, any feedback we get from our patients, positive or negative, would be specific and actionable. It rarely is.

There is no doubt we have entered the era of consumer medicine. Everything from the physical appearance of our clinics to the response time to electronic messages is fair game in how patients judge us. As we all know, patients assume competence – they are not usually impressed by your training or quality outcomes because they already believe you are clinically competent (or arguably they’d never set foot in your office). Instead of judging us how we often judge ourselves, patients form opinions about us by how we enter the room, whether we sit or stand, how long they wait in the exam room before we come in, or whether they like the nurse with whom we work. So many subtle things – many of which are outside of our control.

I often struggle with staying on time. When I am invariably walking into the room late, I make a point of thanking patients for their patience. When I’m very late, I offer a more detailed, HIPAA-compliant explanation. What I wish my patients saw was that I am often accommodating a patient who arrives late for their appointment or who wants me to address every concern they’ve had for the past 5 years. While I aspire to not allow the patient’s perception of the visit to unduly influence how I handle the visit, it inevitably does. I do want to have patients who are happy with their experience.

One of my friends is enviously pragmatic in her view on patient experience. “I’m not their friend and they don’t have to like me.” She emphasizes the clinical care she is providing and does not allow patients who are upset with some aspect of the care to weigh heavy on her. It may be that specialists are more likely to enjoy the luxury of putting aside how patients feel about them personally. In primary care, the patient-physician relationship is so central to what we do that ignoring your “likability” has the potential to threaten your professional viability.

I conclude this blog much like I started it. My desire is to allow the negative reviews, particularly if they have nothing actionable in them, to roll off my back and to keep my focus on the clinical care that I am providing. In actuality, I care deeply about how my patients experience their visit with me and will likely continue to take my reviews to heart.

Dr. Frank is a family physician in Neenah, Wisc. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

I have a love-hate relationship with patient reviews and satisfaction scores. I love good reviews and hate bad ones. Actually, I skim good reviews and then dwell for days on the negative ones, trying to rack my brain as to what I did wrong. Like everyone else, I have off days when I’m tired or distracted or just overwhelmed. Though I try to bring my A game to every patient visit, realistically, I know that I don’t always achieve this. But, for me, the difference in my best visits and good-enough visits is the difference between a 4-star and 5-star review. What’s up with those 1-star reviews?

Many, many years ago, when patient satisfaction scores were in their infancy, our clinic rewarded any physician who got a 100% satisfaction score. On the surface that makes perfect sense – of course, our patients should be satisfied 100% of the time, right? When I asked one of the winners of this competition how he did it (I never scored 100%), he told me, “I just do whatever the patient wants me to do.” Yikes, I thought at the time. That may be the recipe for an A+ for patient satisfaction but not for quality or outcomes.

As I’ve matured in my practice, I have learned somewhat to balance the positives and the negatives, recognizing that I can’t make every patient happy with every interaction. Sometimes, I know that they are going to be unhappy, such as when I decline to refill their drug of abuse. Other times, I have to exercise my best medical judgment and hope that my explanation does not alienate the patient. After all, when I say “no” to a patient request, it is with their overall health and well-being in mind. But I would be lying if I said that I have matured to the point that I’m not bothered by a negative review or a patient choosing to take their care elsewhere.

Most of us seek and welcome feedback. Over time, I’ve learned to do this during the visit by asking “Am I giving you too much information?” or “What do you think of the plan?” or “What’s most important to you?” There are times when I conclude the visit and know that the patient is not satisfied but remain unable to ferret out where I let them down – even, on occasion, when I ask them directly. Ideally, any feedback we get from our patients, positive or negative, would be specific and actionable. It rarely is.

There is no doubt we have entered the era of consumer medicine. Everything from the physical appearance of our clinics to the response time to electronic messages is fair game in how patients judge us. As we all know, patients assume competence – they are not usually impressed by your training or quality outcomes because they already believe you are clinically competent (or arguably they’d never set foot in your office). Instead of judging us how we often judge ourselves, patients form opinions about us by how we enter the room, whether we sit or stand, how long they wait in the exam room before we come in, or whether they like the nurse with whom we work. So many subtle things – many of which are outside of our control.

I often struggle with staying on time. When I am invariably walking into the room late, I make a point of thanking patients for their patience. When I’m very late, I offer a more detailed, HIPAA-compliant explanation. What I wish my patients saw was that I am often accommodating a patient who arrives late for their appointment or who wants me to address every concern they’ve had for the past 5 years. While I aspire to not allow the patient’s perception of the visit to unduly influence how I handle the visit, it inevitably does. I do want to have patients who are happy with their experience.

One of my friends is enviously pragmatic in her view on patient experience. “I’m not their friend and they don’t have to like me.” She emphasizes the clinical care she is providing and does not allow patients who are upset with some aspect of the care to weigh heavy on her. It may be that specialists are more likely to enjoy the luxury of putting aside how patients feel about them personally. In primary care, the patient-physician relationship is so central to what we do that ignoring your “likability” has the potential to threaten your professional viability.

I conclude this blog much like I started it. My desire is to allow the negative reviews, particularly if they have nothing actionable in them, to roll off my back and to keep my focus on the clinical care that I am providing. In actuality, I care deeply about how my patients experience their visit with me and will likely continue to take my reviews to heart.

Dr. Frank is a family physician in Neenah, Wisc. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

I have a love-hate relationship with patient reviews and satisfaction scores. I love good reviews and hate bad ones. Actually, I skim good reviews and then dwell for days on the negative ones, trying to rack my brain as to what I did wrong. Like everyone else, I have off days when I’m tired or distracted or just overwhelmed. Though I try to bring my A game to every patient visit, realistically, I know that I don’t always achieve this. But, for me, the difference in my best visits and good-enough visits is the difference between a 4-star and 5-star review. What’s up with those 1-star reviews?

Many, many years ago, when patient satisfaction scores were in their infancy, our clinic rewarded any physician who got a 100% satisfaction score. On the surface that makes perfect sense – of course, our patients should be satisfied 100% of the time, right? When I asked one of the winners of this competition how he did it (I never scored 100%), he told me, “I just do whatever the patient wants me to do.” Yikes, I thought at the time. That may be the recipe for an A+ for patient satisfaction but not for quality or outcomes.

As I’ve matured in my practice, I have learned somewhat to balance the positives and the negatives, recognizing that I can’t make every patient happy with every interaction. Sometimes, I know that they are going to be unhappy, such as when I decline to refill their drug of abuse. Other times, I have to exercise my best medical judgment and hope that my explanation does not alienate the patient. After all, when I say “no” to a patient request, it is with their overall health and well-being in mind. But I would be lying if I said that I have matured to the point that I’m not bothered by a negative review or a patient choosing to take their care elsewhere.

Most of us seek and welcome feedback. Over time, I’ve learned to do this during the visit by asking “Am I giving you too much information?” or “What do you think of the plan?” or “What’s most important to you?” There are times when I conclude the visit and know that the patient is not satisfied but remain unable to ferret out where I let them down – even, on occasion, when I ask them directly. Ideally, any feedback we get from our patients, positive or negative, would be specific and actionable. It rarely is.

There is no doubt we have entered the era of consumer medicine. Everything from the physical appearance of our clinics to the response time to electronic messages is fair game in how patients judge us. As we all know, patients assume competence – they are not usually impressed by your training or quality outcomes because they already believe you are clinically competent (or arguably they’d never set foot in your office). Instead of judging us how we often judge ourselves, patients form opinions about us by how we enter the room, whether we sit or stand, how long they wait in the exam room before we come in, or whether they like the nurse with whom we work. So many subtle things – many of which are outside of our control.

I often struggle with staying on time. When I am invariably walking into the room late, I make a point of thanking patients for their patience. When I’m very late, I offer a more detailed, HIPAA-compliant explanation. What I wish my patients saw was that I am often accommodating a patient who arrives late for their appointment or who wants me to address every concern they’ve had for the past 5 years. While I aspire to not allow the patient’s perception of the visit to unduly influence how I handle the visit, it inevitably does. I do want to have patients who are happy with their experience.

One of my friends is enviously pragmatic in her view on patient experience. “I’m not their friend and they don’t have to like me.” She emphasizes the clinical care she is providing and does not allow patients who are upset with some aspect of the care to weigh heavy on her. It may be that specialists are more likely to enjoy the luxury of putting aside how patients feel about them personally. In primary care, the patient-physician relationship is so central to what we do that ignoring your “likability” has the potential to threaten your professional viability.

I conclude this blog much like I started it. My desire is to allow the negative reviews, particularly if they have nothing actionable in them, to roll off my back and to keep my focus on the clinical care that I am providing. In actuality, I care deeply about how my patients experience their visit with me and will likely continue to take my reviews to heart.

Dr. Frank is a family physician in Neenah, Wisc. She disclosed no relevant conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

A recent study examined projected career earnings between the genders in a largely community-based physician population, finding a difference of about $2 million in career earnings. That a gender pay gap exists in medicine is not news – but the manner in which this study was done, the investigators’ ability to control for a number of confounding variables, and the size of the study group (over 80,000) are newsworthy.

Some of the key findings include that gender pay gaps start with your first job, and you never close the gap, even as you gain experience and efficiency. Also, the more highly remunerated your specialty, the larger the gap. The gender pay gap joins a growing list of inequities within health care. Although physician compensation is not the most important, given that nearly all physicians are well-paid, and we have much more significant inequities that lead to direct patient harm, the reasons for this discrepancy warrant further consideration.

When I was first being educated about social inequity as part of work in social determinants of health, I made the error of using “inequality” and “inequity” interchangeably. The subtle yet important difference between the two terms was quickly described to me. Inequality is a gastroenterologist getting paid more money to do a colonoscopy than a family physician. Inequity is a female gastroenterologist getting paid less than a male gastroenterologist. Global Health Europe boldly identifies that “inequity is the result of failure.” In looking at the inequity inherent in the gender pay gap, I consider what failed and why.

I’m currently making a major career change, leaving an executive leadership position to return to full-time clinical practice. There is a significant pay decrease that will accompany this change because I am in a primary care specialty. Beyond that, I am considering two employment contracts from different systems to do a similar clinical role.

One of the questions my husband asked was which will pay more over the long run. This is difficult to discern because the compensation formula each health system uses is different, even though they are based on standard national benchmarking data. It is possible that women, in general, are like I am and look for factors other than compensation to make a job decision – assuming, like I do, that it will be close enough to not matter or is generally fair. In fact, while compensation is most certainly a consideration for me, once I determined that it was likely to be in the same ballpark, I stopped comparing. Even as the sole breadwinner in our family, I take this (probably faulty) approach.
 

It’s time to reconsider how we pay physicians

Women may be more likely to gloss over compensation details that men evaluate and negotiate carefully. To change this, women must first take responsibility for being an active, informed, and engaged part of compensation negotiations. In addition, employers who value gender pay equity must negotiate in good faith, keeping in mind the well-described vulnerabilities in discussions about pay. Finally, male and female mentors and leaders should actively coach female physicians on how to approach these conversations with confidence and skill.

In primary care, female physicians spend, on average, about 15% more time with their patients during a visit. Despite spending as much time in clinic seeing patients per week, they see fewer patients, thereby generating less revenue. For compensation plans that are based on productivity, the extra time spent costs money. In this case, it costs the female physicians lost compensation.

The way in which women are more likely to practice medicine, which includes the amount of time they spend with patients, may affect clinical outcomes without directly increasing productivity. A 2017 study demonstrated that elderly patients had lower rates of mortality and readmission when cared for by a female rather than a male physician. These findings require health systems to critically evaluate what compensation plans value and to promote an appropriate balance between quality of care, quantity of care, and style of care.

Although I’ve seen gender pay inequity as blatant as two different salaries for physicians doing the same work – one male and one female – I think this is uncommon. Like many forms of inequity, the outputs are often related to a failed system rather than solely a series of individual failures. Making compensation formulas gender-blind is an important step – but it is only the first step, not the last. Recognizing that the structure of a compensation formula may be biased toward a style of medical practice more likely to be espoused by one gender is necessary as well.

The data, including the findings of this recent study, clearly identify the gender pay gap that exists in medicine, as it does in many other fields, and that it is not explainable solely by differences in specialties, work hours, family status, or title.

To address the inequity, it is imperative that women engage with employers and leaders to both understand and develop skills around effective and appropriate compensation negotiation. Recognizing that compensation plans, especially those built on productivity models, may fail to place adequate value on gender-specific practice styles.

Jennifer Frank is a family physician, physician leader, wife, and mother in Northeast Wisconsin.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

A recent study examined projected career earnings between the genders in a largely community-based physician population, finding a difference of about $2 million in career earnings. That a gender pay gap exists in medicine is not news – but the manner in which this study was done, the investigators’ ability to control for a number of confounding variables, and the size of the study group (over 80,000) are newsworthy.

Some of the key findings include that gender pay gaps start with your first job, and you never close the gap, even as you gain experience and efficiency. Also, the more highly remunerated your specialty, the larger the gap. The gender pay gap joins a growing list of inequities within health care. Although physician compensation is not the most important, given that nearly all physicians are well-paid, and we have much more significant inequities that lead to direct patient harm, the reasons for this discrepancy warrant further consideration.

When I was first being educated about social inequity as part of work in social determinants of health, I made the error of using “inequality” and “inequity” interchangeably. The subtle yet important difference between the two terms was quickly described to me. Inequality is a gastroenterologist getting paid more money to do a colonoscopy than a family physician. Inequity is a female gastroenterologist getting paid less than a male gastroenterologist. Global Health Europe boldly identifies that “inequity is the result of failure.” In looking at the inequity inherent in the gender pay gap, I consider what failed and why.

I’m currently making a major career change, leaving an executive leadership position to return to full-time clinical practice. There is a significant pay decrease that will accompany this change because I am in a primary care specialty. Beyond that, I am considering two employment contracts from different systems to do a similar clinical role.

One of the questions my husband asked was which will pay more over the long run. This is difficult to discern because the compensation formula each health system uses is different, even though they are based on standard national benchmarking data. It is possible that women, in general, are like I am and look for factors other than compensation to make a job decision – assuming, like I do, that it will be close enough to not matter or is generally fair. In fact, while compensation is most certainly a consideration for me, once I determined that it was likely to be in the same ballpark, I stopped comparing. Even as the sole breadwinner in our family, I take this (probably faulty) approach.
 

It’s time to reconsider how we pay physicians

Women may be more likely to gloss over compensation details that men evaluate and negotiate carefully. To change this, women must first take responsibility for being an active, informed, and engaged part of compensation negotiations. In addition, employers who value gender pay equity must negotiate in good faith, keeping in mind the well-described vulnerabilities in discussions about pay. Finally, male and female mentors and leaders should actively coach female physicians on how to approach these conversations with confidence and skill.

In primary care, female physicians spend, on average, about 15% more time with their patients during a visit. Despite spending as much time in clinic seeing patients per week, they see fewer patients, thereby generating less revenue. For compensation plans that are based on productivity, the extra time spent costs money. In this case, it costs the female physicians lost compensation.

The way in which women are more likely to practice medicine, which includes the amount of time they spend with patients, may affect clinical outcomes without directly increasing productivity. A 2017 study demonstrated that elderly patients had lower rates of mortality and readmission when cared for by a female rather than a male physician. These findings require health systems to critically evaluate what compensation plans value and to promote an appropriate balance between quality of care, quantity of care, and style of care.

Although I’ve seen gender pay inequity as blatant as two different salaries for physicians doing the same work – one male and one female – I think this is uncommon. Like many forms of inequity, the outputs are often related to a failed system rather than solely a series of individual failures. Making compensation formulas gender-blind is an important step – but it is only the first step, not the last. Recognizing that the structure of a compensation formula may be biased toward a style of medical practice more likely to be espoused by one gender is necessary as well.

The data, including the findings of this recent study, clearly identify the gender pay gap that exists in medicine, as it does in many other fields, and that it is not explainable solely by differences in specialties, work hours, family status, or title.

To address the inequity, it is imperative that women engage with employers and leaders to both understand and develop skills around effective and appropriate compensation negotiation. Recognizing that compensation plans, especially those built on productivity models, may fail to place adequate value on gender-specific practice styles.

Jennifer Frank is a family physician, physician leader, wife, and mother in Northeast Wisconsin.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

A recent study examined projected career earnings between the genders in a largely community-based physician population, finding a difference of about $2 million in career earnings. That a gender pay gap exists in medicine is not news – but the manner in which this study was done, the investigators’ ability to control for a number of confounding variables, and the size of the study group (over 80,000) are newsworthy.

Some of the key findings include that gender pay gaps start with your first job, and you never close the gap, even as you gain experience and efficiency. Also, the more highly remunerated your specialty, the larger the gap. The gender pay gap joins a growing list of inequities within health care. Although physician compensation is not the most important, given that nearly all physicians are well-paid, and we have much more significant inequities that lead to direct patient harm, the reasons for this discrepancy warrant further consideration.

When I was first being educated about social inequity as part of work in social determinants of health, I made the error of using “inequality” and “inequity” interchangeably. The subtle yet important difference between the two terms was quickly described to me. Inequality is a gastroenterologist getting paid more money to do a colonoscopy than a family physician. Inequity is a female gastroenterologist getting paid less than a male gastroenterologist. Global Health Europe boldly identifies that “inequity is the result of failure.” In looking at the inequity inherent in the gender pay gap, I consider what failed and why.

I’m currently making a major career change, leaving an executive leadership position to return to full-time clinical practice. There is a significant pay decrease that will accompany this change because I am in a primary care specialty. Beyond that, I am considering two employment contracts from different systems to do a similar clinical role.

One of the questions my husband asked was which will pay more over the long run. This is difficult to discern because the compensation formula each health system uses is different, even though they are based on standard national benchmarking data. It is possible that women, in general, are like I am and look for factors other than compensation to make a job decision – assuming, like I do, that it will be close enough to not matter or is generally fair. In fact, while compensation is most certainly a consideration for me, once I determined that it was likely to be in the same ballpark, I stopped comparing. Even as the sole breadwinner in our family, I take this (probably faulty) approach.
 

It’s time to reconsider how we pay physicians

Women may be more likely to gloss over compensation details that men evaluate and negotiate carefully. To change this, women must first take responsibility for being an active, informed, and engaged part of compensation negotiations. In addition, employers who value gender pay equity must negotiate in good faith, keeping in mind the well-described vulnerabilities in discussions about pay. Finally, male and female mentors and leaders should actively coach female physicians on how to approach these conversations with confidence and skill.

In primary care, female physicians spend, on average, about 15% more time with their patients during a visit. Despite spending as much time in clinic seeing patients per week, they see fewer patients, thereby generating less revenue. For compensation plans that are based on productivity, the extra time spent costs money. In this case, it costs the female physicians lost compensation.

The way in which women are more likely to practice medicine, which includes the amount of time they spend with patients, may affect clinical outcomes without directly increasing productivity. A 2017 study demonstrated that elderly patients had lower rates of mortality and readmission when cared for by a female rather than a male physician. These findings require health systems to critically evaluate what compensation plans value and to promote an appropriate balance between quality of care, quantity of care, and style of care.

Although I’ve seen gender pay inequity as blatant as two different salaries for physicians doing the same work – one male and one female – I think this is uncommon. Like many forms of inequity, the outputs are often related to a failed system rather than solely a series of individual failures. Making compensation formulas gender-blind is an important step – but it is only the first step, not the last. Recognizing that the structure of a compensation formula may be biased toward a style of medical practice more likely to be espoused by one gender is necessary as well.

The data, including the findings of this recent study, clearly identify the gender pay gap that exists in medicine, as it does in many other fields, and that it is not explainable solely by differences in specialties, work hours, family status, or title.

To address the inequity, it is imperative that women engage with employers and leaders to both understand and develop skills around effective and appropriate compensation negotiation. Recognizing that compensation plans, especially those built on productivity models, may fail to place adequate value on gender-specific practice styles.

Jennifer Frank is a family physician, physician leader, wife, and mother in Northeast Wisconsin.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.