There was a great book I read in either high school or college titled “Zen & The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”. Written by Robert Pirseg, it was probably the first truly profound and deep reading I ever did – and it made a lasting impression on me. (Full disclosure: I read it twice in my life; both times were over 35 years ago and I have not re-read it since). The book told the story of a father and son crossing the country on a motorcycle. The motorcycle would break down or need some work or repair and the father son duo worked through it together.
But the book had a much deeper meaning, which critics would later describe as “a search for the philosophical explanation of quality”. Quality, in the book, was quality of life and all that it entails. What brings you joy. Why we are here. What is our purpose. Motorcycle maintenance was a metaphor for reconciling reason, objectivity, and technology from art, emotion, and our spirit.
In retrospect, the book contained many life lessons and imparted on readers –at least this one—a sense that business, medicine, sports, and just about any passion or career or hobby or pastime you pursue, has elements of “art” and “science” to them. You need to consider both the practical (the science) and the romantic (the art) aspects to evaluate the worthiness of any pursuit you are considering. I’ve used that philosophy in business decisions all the time. A good, solid business plan and deep dive exploring any investment is important, but you have to feel with your heart as well as the brain.
I worked with several companies recently that have hospice contracts. A few of these companies had a significant (but not exclusive) amount of their overall business derived from their hospice contracts. And one company existed solely to service hospice contracts.
There were several unique things about this business model that became apparent while I was working with them. For one thing, the contracts typically allow for fairly slim margins—even by DME industry standards. They were typically “volume” businesses, which needed to increase the number of contracts and patients (referred to as “patient census” in the business) to make money. Companies were constantly looking for additional contracts to build their book of business.
Another thing I noticed was that the contracts were very labor intensive for the DME provider. The contracts called for speedy service 24/7. After hour deliveries were quite common. If the hospice patient gets short of breath at 3am, the hospice nurse calls the DME, who brings out oxygen. On the flip side of that, and on a sadder note, when the patient passes, hospice philosophy was to get the DME out of the home as quickly as possible. After hour set ups at midnight and equipment pick up because the patient has died at 6am were closer to the norm than to the exception.
This type of a business model presents a few challenges to the typical DME:
That being said, hospice contracts are not only good community service, they are also a good way to network the public and market your customer service skills to referral sources, such as doctors and home health agencies that you work with on hospice contracts.
If you are chasing hospice contracts now or thinking about trying your hand, keep in mind the following:
Like that book that I read so long ago, establishing and maintaining hospice contracts is both an ART and a SCIENCE. Think about the business in objective, reasoned terms. But also take into consideration the extrinsic rewards that come from caring for a dying patient and making their transition easier and more comfortable. Analyze the contracts with your mind, but also your heart.
I’m going to give that book another read sometime soon. And I hope you will too.