It’s been a minute…

September 3rd. Sunday of Labor Day Weekend. Either way I look at it, it’s the same thing. A moment to pause and reflect, to be grateful for what and who I have in my life, and to acknowledge the loss that occurred — now, three years ago.

Since my last update in September 2019 the world has turned upside down. And mine has taken some interesting (and wonderful) turns along the way.

In October 2019, I started a new role as Chief Medical Officer at Best Buy, the consumer electronics retailer based in Minnesota. When I learned about the role, it was a no-brainer. Best Buy had recently launched Best Buy Health (largely through a series of acquisitions), and my role would be help lead strategy and corporate development for the group — essentially, helping to shape the future direction of Best Buy Health and how we add or create the building blocks to get there. Best Buy’s value proposition was compelling to me: change how healthcare is delivered - and received - by using the unique assets and DNA of a leading retailer to do it. Best Buy is trusted to come into people’s home, help people solve technology problems, and understand the needs of the customer with depth and nuance. Applying that to healthcare was appealing to me, not just as a patient, but as a physician as well. I’m passionate about changing how healthcare is delivered, and it was immediately relevant to me in my own life as a patient who relies on technology to enhance my life and as a physician who sees the transformational power of technology in healthcare. (I continue to work clinically at Mayo Clinic as well.)

As the novel coronavirus pandemic took shape early this year, I felt the impact in several different ways. My paraplegia has left with me an impaired cough — I don’t have the core muscles to cough as aggressively as I otherwise would, which places me at risk for pneumonia and other lung diseases. Additionally, hand hygiene becomes a challenge when you use your wheels to propel while touching doors and (if you’re lucky) push buttons for the doors. So, I did what many did, and sheltered in place to the best of my ability. I moved clinical shifts in the Emergency Department to telemedicine shifts (a whole new adventure - and the marvels of technology) that I could do from home, until we understood more about the virus and how to protect ourselves. (Thanks to my Mayo Clinic colleagues for their flexibility and understanding!) I avoided the grocery store and other public places. I relied on friends to help when possible. I also shifted some responsibility into thinking about how to keep our Best Buy employees, customers, and families safe, which was a whole new learning curve for me and a way to learn the nuances of our business.

Unfortunately, I also let my physical health slip. With physical therapy locations closed, staying home, working in front of a computer without propelling, and without the discipline to work out regularly, I lost significant muscle mass in my arms and shoulders. I’m disappointed in myself, and actively working to reverse it. I’d built up strength with 4+ months in the hospital and countless hours of rehab. I’m kicking myself for letting that go. I want to acknowledge, though, the privilege that is inherent in what I wrote above. I worked from home. I had groceries delivered. I had friends who helped me and loved ones who checked in on me. So many people were unable to do that. It placed them at risk for contracting coronavirus and getting COVID-19. It unmasked racial and socioeconomic disparities that are rampant in our society. It showed the haves and the have-nots. And that essential workers means essentially at risk. Working from home, with internet, with an office, is privilege. Yes, I struggled with social isolation, with loneliness, with the feeling of Groundhog’s Day. But I had the resources with which to fight those struggles. . So many people did not and do not. And so many people died or are left impaired as a result. Over the following months, I returned to working the ER. I developed a safety system for PPE, for cleaning my chair, for using video as an adjunct to see high-risk patients if I didn’t need to be in the room. I love being in the ER - it gives me purpose.

PPE in the Emergency Department

In other personal, more up-lifting news, I’m getting married. More specifically, I’m getting married to a fantastic and brilliant woman who puts up with me, who makes me a better person (and doctor), who is my partner, and with whom I love attacking life. She’s not my caregiver. She doesn’t do things for me. We do life together, with all its intricacies and inherent complexities. It occurred by happenstance - I ran across someone who I’d met a few years earlier. We’d worked together, and after I’d returned to work she heard about my accident. So she wasn’t shocked by this new wheelchair. And she knew me when I was standing up at 6’5”, instead of sitting at 6’5”. Ironically, we’d spent several months a few doors down - while I was in the hospital at Mayo, she was on an adjacent wing of the floor…but our paths didn’t cross then. Luckily, they did later, and I “jumped” at the chance to reconnect with someone special. Ashley, thank you for bringing out my joy and for being my partner. I love you.

As always, on the 3rd anniversary of my accident, I think about my dear friends, the Locksley family. On September 3, 2017 — a few hours after my accident — Mike and Kia Locksley’s son Meiko was murdered in Washington D.C. His murder remains unsolved. I’d known Meiko and his siblings for years. Mike and Kia are family. And it bears acknowledgment that while I’m able to tell my story, work, and get married, Meiko’s life was cut short. His siblings lost a brother. His parents lost a son. We miss you, Meiko. #LLMM