A doctor told me to seek immediate medical attention to rule out a stroke. I decided to lead an Executive Team meeting anyway.

A few years ago, I was in a Philadelphia emergency room wondering if I had experienced a stroke.

Earlier that day, during a flight from Dallas, I felt tingling on the left side of my face.

Like many people, I explained it away.

Maybe I was tired.

Maybe I was stressed.

Maybe it was nothing.

When I told Alan about it, he disagreed.

In fact, he was upset that I hadn’t already contacted my doctor.

He urged me to send a message through my physician’s patient portal.

As the tingling became numbness, I finally did.

I expected to hear back within a couple of hours.

Instead, less than a minute later, my phone rang.

My doctor told me to get to an emergency clinic immediately to rule out a stroke.

He told me not to panic.

The truth is, I was far more worried after that phone call than I had been before it.

If my physician thought it was serious enough to call immediately, then maybe I should too.

There was just one problem.

I was about to lead our weekly Executive Team meeting.

I told Alan what the doctor had said.

Then I started the meeting anyway.

Not attended.

Led.

A few minutes into the meeting, my phone lit up with a message from Alan.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING??”

The meeting was virtual, and Alan was participating remotely from Dallas.

While I was trying to facilitate discussion as though everything was normal, he was watching me ignore the advice of my physician, who had just told me to seek immediate medical attention.

Looking back, the irony is obvious.

Eventually, common sense prevailed.

I told the team what was happening, asked someone else to take over the meeting, and left for the clinic.

At 52, stroke wasn’t something I had seriously considered.

Suddenly, it was all I could think about.

When the System Works

What stood out to me was how quickly the first part of the system responded.

A portal message connected me almost immediately to my physician, someone who knew my history and immediately recognized the urgency of the situation.

Urgent care took the symptoms seriously.

In many ways, the system worked exactly as it should.

Then I learned where the challenge was.

The clinic didn’t have imaging equipment and sent me to the emergency room.

After nearly six hours in the ER, doctors determined I needed an MRI.

The physician told me he was highly confident I would receive one the following day.

The problem was that nobody could guarantee it.

For someone wondering whether they might have experienced a stroke, “probably tomorrow” feels very different than “definitely tomorrow.”

That was the moment everything changed.

The Longest Night

It was nearly midnight.

I wanted to go home.

I wanted to be with Alan.

Instead, we exchanged texts and FaceTimed through the night.

At times, both of us were in tears.

I was alone in Philadelphia.

Alan was more than 1,400 miles away in Dallas, calling hospitals, imaging centers, and our insurance company looking for options.

More than anything, he hated that I was facing it alone.

Fortunately, a friend of ours owned an imaging center in Houston.

One phone call changed everything.

Within hours, arrangements had been made and I was on a plane to Houston.

I was fortunate.

“Most people don’t have a friend who owns an imaging center.

Most people simply wait.

And that realization has stayed with me ever since.

The People Behind the Patient

When a patient experiences a medical event, there is usually someone experiencing it alongside them.

A spouse.

A partner.

A parent.

A child.

A friend.

Someone else is worrying.

Someone else is waiting.

Someone else is making phone calls and searching for answers.

Healthcare conversations often focus on patients, and rightfully so.

But every patient story usually includes another person carrying the emotional weight of the experience as well.

That night, Alan carried it with me.

What We Learn to Accept

That experience reminded me of something I’ve thought about many times since.

Some of the most important problems in life are not ignored all at once.

They become normal.

Before that trip, I had experienced symptoms that deserved more attention than I gave them.

I found explanations.

I minimized them.

I normalized them.

The same thing happens in organizations.

The same thing happens in industries.

The same thing happens in healthcare.

Patients normalize waiting.

Families normalize uncertainty.

Healthcare professionals normalize overwhelming workloads.

Organizations normalize shortages.

One of the greatest leadership risks isn’t resistance to change.

It’s adaptation.

We adapt to inefficiencies.

We adapt to delays.

We adapt to frustrations.

We adapt to shortages.

Eventually, we stop seeing them as problems at all.

Sitting alone in that emergency room, I realized I had normalized my symptoms.

The healthcare system had normalized delays.

Neither felt normal anymore.

The Better Question

Looking back, what strikes me most is that I was doing exactly what many healthcare professionals do every day.

I was pushing through.

I was minimizing a problem because there was work to be done.

I was placing responsibility ahead of my own wellbeing.

The difference is that my doctor, Alan, and eventually my Executive Team made me stop.

Many healthcare professionals don’t have that luxury.

They continue carrying growing workloads because patients still need answers and the work still needs to get done.

Over time, extraordinary burdens can begin to feel normal.

That’s true for leaders.

It’s true for organizations.

And it’s increasingly true across healthcare.

Since joining MSN Healthcare Solutions, I’ve spent time listening to radiologists, imaging leaders, and healthcare executives discuss these challenges.

Before Philadelphia, I understood those conversations professionally.

After Philadelphia, I understood them personally.

A recent conversation with Keith Chew, Senior Consultant at MSN Healthcare Solutions, reinforced this perspective:

“Many factors contributed to the current radiologist shortage, far beyond the control of radiology or healthcare for that matter. But it is only through strong collaborations and partnerships that this storm will be weathered, not just for hospitals and radiologists, but for the most important member of the relationship: the patient,” Keith told me.

One thing I’ve learned is that the solution is rarely as simple as finding more radiologists.

At MSN, many of the conversations focus on how to better support radiologists so they can spend more time doing the work only they can do.

That includes reducing administrative burdens, improving workflows, strengthening communication, leveraging technology appropriately, and helping healthcare organizations remove friction from the system.

Because every task that unnecessarily pulls a radiologist away from patient care creates consequences somewhere else in the process.

The future of radiology is not simply a workforce challenge.

It’s an ecosystem challenge.

Technology matters.

Workflow matters.

Communication matters.

Operational support matters.

Every improvement that removes friction from the system helps expertise reach patients faster.

The goal isn’t simply adding capacity.

It’s making sure highly trained physicians can spend more time doing the work only they can do.

Because patients aren’t waiting for workflows.

They’re waiting for answers.

What Leaders Can Learn

Every shortage creates consequences beyond the obvious.

Patients adapt.

Families adapt.

Employees adapt.

Organizations adapt.

But perhaps the biggest lesson is this:

“Responsible people often continue carrying burdens long after they should have asked for help.

I did it while trying to lead an Executive Team meeting after my physician told me to seek immediate medical attention.

Healthcare professionals do it every day.

Radiologists do it every day.

Organizations do it every day.

The question isn’t whether people can keep pushing through.

The question is whether they should have to.

Just because a burden can be carried doesn’t mean it should become normal.

Leadership begins when we challenge assumptions others have stopped questioning.

Leadership begins when we notice what everyone else has stopped seeing.

Final Reflection

The good news was that the MRI ruled out a stroke.

The bad news was that nobody could tell me with certainty what had caused days of stroke-like symptoms.

I left with relief.

I also left with a healthy respect for how quickly something seemingly minor can become something you can’t afford to ignore.

If I ever experience those symptoms again, I won’t wait.

I’ll call the doctor.

I’ll go to the hospital.

Immediately.

What stayed with me wasn’t the MRI.

It was the realization that behind every conversation about staffing, workflow, turnaround times, and access are real people.

The patient waiting for answers.

The spouse trying not to panic.

The physician responding through a portal.

The radiologist carrying an ever-growing workload.

The healthcare professionals doing their best inside a system under pressure.

Healthcare challenges are never really about systems.

They are about people.

And the most dangerous problems are often the ones we’ve slowly learned to accept as normal.

Closing Reflection

What burden have you learned to accept that should never have become normal in the first place?

Sometimes the most important leadership decisions aren’t about taking on more responsibility.

They’re about recognizing when a burden has gone on too long, asking for help, and creating space for others to do the same.

If these reflections resonate with your leadership journey, I invite you to subscribe and join me each week for The Hammer Principles.