The effort to quantify love degrades it. -Erie Chapman
Think for a moment about someone you love. Describe this love. Then answer this question: How much 
do you love that person?
This question is often asked, yet it has a hollow ring to it. How can we possibly apply a measuring stick or a calculator to something as important to us as how much we love our spouse, or children or parents or best friends? In the case of saints like Mother Theresa, how can we quantify her love for the poorest of the poor?
Am I am yielding to a measuring conceit when I use the word quantum to describe caregiving? It may sound like it. But what I am really trying to do is search, with you, for words that will help healthcare leaders value loving care at a higher and more balanced level…
The world of healthcare – particularly in hospitals – is dominated by
science and, increasingly, business. Many people think that a key
element of science is measurement. We all know that a central measure
of business success is "the bottom line."
In such a world, it
is not surprising that love slides rapidly down the priority list so
that it is barely visible as an objective of organizations that hold
themselves out as caring.
One reason for this is the seductive appeal of measurement. We seek the reinforcement of measurable goals so we migrate to areas where calculation is king. "How many milligrams of drug were administered to that patient and what was the result?" We ask this and revel in that fact that we can make an exact-seeming calculation of the impact of our actions. "How many patients were discharged from the hospital this month and what percentage were Medicare?" the Chief Financial Officer of the CEO may ask.
These are normal clinical and business inquiries. There is nothing wrong with these questions unless they become so dominant they entirely erode the role of the caring questions.
Leaders and caregivers can be asking, along with the above questions, "How are we doing giving loving care?" Some, confused by the scientific and business models, will seek to quantify the answer. Yes, it’s possible to get some clues from tools like patient satisfaction surveys, but these reports can never answer the questions of ultimate importance.
"How are we giving loving care?" This is not a dosage question. No nurse can report that she administered 25ccs of kindness to an eighty-five year old. However, she can describe kind things she has done. She can say things like, "While taking Mr. Jones blood pressure, I listened carefully as he told me about his wife’s terminal cancer. And I stayed with him in his sorrow as he shed tears."
She can describe her gift of loving presence to the spiritual needs of another rather than quantifying it. I hate to quote a source as commercial as a television ad, but the Master Card people have it right when they calculate what a list of things costs and end their ad with their particular way of describing a given human experience: "Priceless."
This ad connects with the public because ever person knows intuitively that the most important things in life have no price tag. If a credit card company can comprehend this, why is it so hard for leaders caught in the medical-industrial complex to appreciate the same wisdom?
On Monday of this week, I introduced you to a rose in my back yard, her bright pink petals, her emerald leaves and green stem. She was somewhat coiled then, her outer petals wrapping some of her
inner beauty.
Here she is Thursday, dressed in morning rain.

And here she is this Friday morning.
How can we measure her beauty?
Join me over the weekend as the rose continues her journey across seven days. Ask yourself what is most important – the things we can measure or the things that live beyond the measuring stick? We live nearby both the hard stick and the soft-petaled rose. Where is the balance? We don’t need to know the exact answer. But we can find balance by asking the question every day.
-Erie Chapman
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