You’re back in the boardroom again with your fellow senior executives. The CEO has asked each of you for a number—the EBIT uplift from those cost savings you’ve all been charged with finding. He’s going around the table. Fine—you’ve still time to flip through the report your EA printed out. You open your leather folder and quietly sift through the papers. It’s not there. You reach down into your bag, but your hand feels only the solid plastic triangle of your lunch. You peer down. No report. Shit.
You need those big numbers, the ones that will impress. You can’t believe you can’t bring them to mind–you used to be so good at that. You’d planned to refresh your memory by reading at least the executive summary during the early part of today’s agenda. Now, head cocked in feigned interest of the Chief Customer Officer’s plans, you surreptitiously reach for your phone. Your transformation director’s sitting just outside the boardroom waiting to catch you after this meeting. She’s hoping you’ll get her the green light today. You text: ‘Need EBIT figs from transformation’. As your colleague wraps up, you wait to see who the chairman will call on next. Thank goodness, it’s someone else.
You’ve got some breathing room. But how did you get here, in this sorry state? You’ve spent so much of your last years in the trenches of minutiae. It’s where you feel useful and where you reckon you can make a meaningful contribution. You feel you’re doing your duty by your subordinates—servant leadership at its best. So long as you maintain your tempo at prestissimo, you’re bound to create enough value from your conscientious exertions. Your team see how busy you are, which you think helps when you need to call on them to pull an all-nighter. Truthfully, they wish you’d get out the way and let them do what they’re paid to do.
You’re not quite sure at what point this frenetic pace became an end in itself. For the longest time you haven’t stopped to think about purpose—whether of the business, your team or yourself. As each day goes by, you subconsciously avoid that ‘why?’ question, afraid perhaps of what the answer might reveal.
Another day goes by and your vision gets closer and closer—not because you are achieving it, but because it’s shrinking. The boardroom excited you once. But now you have to will yourself through the endless round of meetings as the issues get tabled and nothing substantive seems to get done. You wish you had more time to think, rather than bolting a sandwich on the run, washed down by an espresso. As you wait anxiously for the text, the framed values statement, elegantly designed, catches your eye. You remember working on its engaging language, but it no longer carries much charge—the words feel as flat as you do.
“Your vision gets closer and closer—not because
you are achieving it, but because it’s shrinking.”
A statement about ‘courage’ stares at you from the wall. What on earth was that about? But before you can dig deeper your phone buzzes with the answer you’ve been waiting for. A second one a moment afterwards: ‘It’s in the report!’ You feel her fury, especially as she’d double-checked you’d read it before the meeting. Damn, you reflect, you always used to be on top of your brief and you’d never lie about having read something without actually having done so. But at least now you can safely lay aside larger thoughts about purpose and just focus on what’s in front of your face.
The boss nods in your direction. You clear your throat and remind him of the transformation project. You rattle off the big number saying, ‘I really think this is worth chasing.’ A colleague, your friend, who notices your agitated state asks you a Dorothy Dixer about who’s on the steering committee. You use the chance to draw a breath and answer confidently. You also single out your transformation director: ‘She’s one to watch.’ You’ll tell her afterwards you sang her praises and hope it heals the rift between you. The CEO nods sagely as he puts the cap on his Mont Blanc. ‘Okay, that’s a wrap,’ he says breezily. ‘Let’s review the full business case in two weeks.’
You’ve made it through another meeting. Perhaps your bonus is safe. But you’ve been getting to work earlier and earlier and leaving later and later. Your marriage is heading south and your kids don’t know who you are, nor you who they are. Life streams past you in a constant blur—never a moment to be still. If you’re not in a meeting, you’re writing reports, fighting fires, dealing with the regulators, regretting bullying a hapless vendor, pleading with a pissed-off customer. You feel accountable for everything contained in the tornado whirlygigging around you, without the authority to invest in the resources you need to get the work done. In fact, you have no idea what resources are required to get the work done because you never have the time to plan. It’s all busyness. All you know is that you haven’t got enough…of whatever it is.
You’re terrified you’re going to get found out and have long ago frozen out any type of learning, for fear of making a mistake. Just do what you know and, for goodness sake, don’t try anything new. It’s far too risky. And be sure to suppress any of the bold new ideas your team brings along. Not tyrannically, to be sure, but with a faux smile that belies what you’re feeling inside.

Now, let’s step back a moment and have a look at your life inside the box. On the left-hand vertical are the 24 hours it takes the earth to spin on its axis. On the horizontal, the timeline for a 45-year-old. Take 8 hours off for sleep, 8 hours for work and four hours for commuting and chores and you’re left with 4 hours a day to make something of your life. Weekends don’t count, as you’re the sort who works more than 8 hours and sleeps less than eight—so let’s say, on average, that’s a reasonable representation. But I wouldn’t get hung up on the absolute numbers—just become aware of how little ‘you time’ is left over.
It’s sobering to think of all of this busyness at work and ask if it’s worth it. That’s fully a third of your life (at least) you’re throwing down the drain, ignoring Thoreau’s maxim that ‘the price of anything is the amount of life you’re willing to pay for it’. What stops you from changing the music?
The hero gets a call to do something bigger than they are—to make a contribution worthy of the ridiculously small chance that they were ever born at all. The hallmark of the hero is to listen to that call. It means crossing a threshold and going into the dark part of the forest—that part which hasn’t yet been discovered. It means peeling away the layers of self-doubt, of cynicism and fear. It means speaking truth to yourself and to power. We all love those words on the piece of paper that call on that part of ourselves that is more noble, but regularly shrink from the need to act nobly. We die to our better selves through a hundred compromises a day. We don’t want to offend, we want to keep the peace, we seek an advantage whilst waiting in the shadow. We’re ashamed to confess our ignorance and fear the consequence of making a wrong decision. We confuse familiarity with mastery—anyone can take the controls when in mid-flight in calm weather, but can we land on a frozen river when the engine’s blown out? What does that say about constancy of purpose, over a lifetime?
No, work and life are not to be balanced. Those eight hours (at least) of work aren’t there just to finance the life you squeeze in around them. What a ridiculous proposition that is—as if you were told you had to give a third of your existence away doing this thing called work and only live what little there is of your precious lifetime with the balance? No again. Work and life must be integrated. We must find the courage to listen to what life calls on us to do. Of what use is the house, the car, the fancy clothes, restaurants and holidays if you reach your time to hop the twig and there’s no ‘you’ to be found?
But…can you see yourself authoring your future rather than being led along in the semi-comatose drift of a safe job? For sure, not everyone was made to start their own business and not every heroic deed is made by the entrepreneurs. But is your fear of the boss, or need to please him or her, enough reason to cauterise your life? How do you know how it’s going to turn out? Is the story you’re telling yourself going to become a self-fulfilling prophecy? If free speech is the single biggest freedom won by our culture, what are you suppressing and being suppressed by in your workplace?
Don’t kid yourself. You’re not here to make more money now and in the future, and suffer the disease of feeling that you never have enough. You’re here to make a difference. To do something meaningful. To have people say that had you not made your choices the way you did, the world would be a poorer place for it. Let that be the measure of your wealth. Be humble enough to learn new ways of seeing and brave enough to trust yourself in bringing it to life. Be the hero of your own story. Know who you are and why you’re here—what’s worth living for and what must die, however painfully, to make way for what is good, and true, and beautiful.
So what are you going to do now before that next big meeting? Can you make the case for change and rally your team to the cause? Will they believe it this time? Would you believe yourself? There’s really only one way to find out.
Where have all the heroes gone? They’ve gone to call on you to join their number.
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What’s next?
The change from standard thinking to Theory of Constraints (TOC) is both profound and exhilarating. To make it both fun and memorable, we use a business simulation we call The Right Stuff Workshop.
We’d love to run it with you. To learn more:
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[Background photo by rawpixel on Unsplash]
“Treat yourself like someone you are
responsible for helping.”—Jordan B Peterson
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Healthcare professionals are central to the patient’s progress from awareness of a therapy to successful long-term use. They identify risk, interpret evidence, diagnose conditions, discuss options, perform procedures, provide training and monitor outcomes.
Yet many medical device development programs treat healthcare professionals primarily as users to be trained or customers to be persuaded.
HCP-Centered Design takes a wider view. It examines the work healthcare professionals must perform, the system in which they perform it and the constraints that limit their ability to move suitable patients through the care pathway.
“If patient flow depends on a healthcare professional, that professional’s available capacity may determine how many patients ultimately receive the therapy.”
A medical device patient journey commonly depends on several healthcare professionals:
Each professional governs a transition in the flow of patients.
If one transition lacks sufficient capacity, information or clarity, the whole pathway slows. More marketing, sales activity or production capacity will not compensate for a shortage of specialist time or a burdensome diagnostic process.
This is why HCP-Centered Design is not simply about making an interface easier to use. It is about enabling the system of care to perform.
A healthcare professional’s work depends on information and actions supplied by others. They may rely on referrals, patient histories, pathology, imaging, electronic records, clinical guidelines and the availability of equipment or trained colleagues.
After reaching a decision, they may need to explain it, document it, arrange authorization, coordinate treatment and prepare the next person in the pathway.
A technically strong solution can still create difficulty if it:
The relevant design question is not merely, “Can the HCP use this product?”
It is, “Does this solution improve the HCP’s ability to complete important clinical work within the conditions in which care is actually delivered?”
“HCP” is not one persona.
A general practitioner, specialist, interventional physician, nurse, technician and clinical administrator encounter different stages of the pathway. Each has different responsibilities, authority, expertise and exposure to risk.
Even within a profession, context matters. An experienced specialist in a major hospital may approach the same task differently from a professional who encounters the condition infrequently or works without immediate specialist support.
Useful HCP personas distinguish factors that influence work:
These personas clarify who performs each job and what support each person requires.
The HCP journey often begins before the visible clinical procedure.
It may include receiving a referral, gathering information, forming an initial view, ordering investigations, interpreting results, deciding whether the patient is eligible, discussing treatment, obtaining authorization, preparing for the procedure, delivering care and arranging follow-up.
At each stage, ask:
The resulting journey map should distinguish processing time from waiting time. A decision may require only minutes of specialist attention while patients wait weeks to access that attention.
This reveals the practical relationship between HCP capacity and patient flow.
The Theory of Constraints directs attention to the factor limiting the performance of the entire system.
In some pathways, the constraint may be the number of qualified interventional specialists. In others, it may be diagnostic capacity, physician confidence, authorization effort, operating room access or the time required to train patients.
The constraint may also be hidden inside the HCP’s working day.
A specialist supporting a therapy must still manage other clinical duties, administration, meetings, documentation and urgent cases. The question is not simply how many specialists exist. It is how much of their usable capacity is available for the activities upon which patient flow depends.
“The scarcest resource may not be the healthcare professional. It may be the few hours of focused capacity available for the critical work.”
Improvement away from this constraint can make performance worse. Sending more referrals to an already overloaded specialist increases the queue. Adding information may increase cognitive burden. Creating another approval may consume the capacity required to treat patients.
HCP-Centered Design seeks to protect and expand the capacity that governs flow.
Policies and procedures describe how clinical work should happen. Observation reveals how it actually happens.
Healthcare professionals routinely compensate for missing information, awkward interfaces and unreliable handovers. These workarounds may become so familiar that nobody reports them as problems.
Gemba research should examine:
The purpose is not to judge the healthcare professional. It is to understand the system surrounding the work.
“A workaround is often evidence that the system has failed to support the person doing the work.”
Healthcare professionals do not simply use devices. They use them to make progress in clinical work.
An HCP may need to identify risk, reach a confident diagnosis, select an intervention, perform a procedure safely, explain options, monitor progress or recognize deterioration.
A structured job map divides this work into eight stages:
This wider view prevents the product team from concentrating exclusively on the procedure.
The greatest value may come from reducing preparation, improving decision confidence, clarifying an exception, simplifying documentation or improving the handover to follow-up care.
Comments such as “the interface is difficult” or “we need better information” indicate dissatisfaction, but do not provide sufficient direction for design.
They should be translated into measurable outcome statements, such as:
“Minimize the time required to identify which clinical information is missing before making a treatment decision.”
Or:
“Reduce the likelihood that a clinically significant change goes unrecognized between scheduled reviews.”
A broader population of healthcare professionals can then assess the importance of each outcome and their satisfaction with their current ability to achieve it.
Highly important and poorly satisfied outcomes provide a rational basis for prioritizing innovation.
“Adoption follows when a solution makes important clinical work safer, clearer or easier to complete.”
The five-step FOCUS process creates a practical improvement cycle.
Find the constraint. Determine which HCP activity or resource currently limits patient flow.
Optimise for it. Protect the constraint from avoidable work, missing information, interruptions and rework.
Collaborate around it. Align upstream and downstream teams so patients, information and resources arrive when required.
Uplift it. Add capacity, redesign responsibilities, improve technology or remove restrictive policies.
Start Again. Identify the new constraint once flow improves.
This approach allows the organization to distinguish activity from value. It also turns HCP engagement into an ongoing management discipline.
HCP-Centered Design must connect clinical reality with patient needs, technology, regulation and business strategy.
A Value Management Office can help coordinate these perspectives across the product lifecycle. Its role is to ensure that projects, resources and stage-gate decisions remain connected to patient flow and business value.
The organization should be able to show:
The goal is not simply a device that healthcare professionals can operate. It is a solution they can confidently incorporate into care and a delivery system capable of getting that solution to more patients.
Use the HCP-Centered Design assessment to determine how well your organization understands clinical work, HCP capacity and the constraints governing patient flow.
The resulting evidence should guide product design, process improvement and investment toward better products, delivered faster, with more lives changed for good.
Medical device companies devote enormous skill and investment to developing safe, effective products. Yet a technically successful device changes no lives while suitable patients remain unable to reach it.
Between a patient becoming aware of a therapy and receiving its intended benefit lies a pathway of referrals, consultations, diagnostics, approvals, procedures, training and follow-up. Every step consumes time. Between the steps, patients wait. At some points, they become confused, discouraged, ineligible or lost to the process.
Patient Centered Design must therefore address more than the design of the device. It must improve the performance of the entire system through which patients reach, receive and live successfully with the solution.
“A life-changing therapy changes no lives while patients remain trapped in the pathway leading to it.”
A typical medical device journey may include:
Companies often manage these stages as separate functions. Marketing works on awareness. Medical affairs supports clinicians. Market access addresses reimbursement. Sales works with specialists. Clinical teams gather evidence. Training teams support adoption.
The patient, however, experiences one journey.
From the patient’s perspective, a delay between two organizational functions remains a delay. A repeated test remains repeated work. An unclear handover creates uncertainty regardless of which department owns it.
Patient Centered Design begins when the organization sees and manages this journey as a connected system.
Every step contains some necessary processing time. A consultation takes time. A diagnostic test takes time. An authorization must be assessed. A procedure must be performed.
The patient’s total lead time, however, also includes the waiting between these activities.
A consultation may take 30 minutes, but the patient could wait six weeks for it. A diagnostic test may take an hour, followed by another delay before a specialist reviews the result. Prior authorization may require little actual work while adding weeks to the pathway.
This distinction matters because organizations often improve processing time while leaving the larger queues untouched. Saving five minutes during an appointment produces little benefit if the patient waits months to reach it.
Patient Centered Design therefore asks:
The answers reveal the true performance of the patient system.
Theory of Constraints teaches that the performance of any system is limited by a constraint. Improving a part of the system that is not constraining flow may create more activity without increasing results.
If diagnostic capacity is the constraint, generating more awareness may simply produce a longer queue for diagnosis. If specialist capacity is the constraint, accelerating authorization may move patients more quickly into another wait. If training after first use is inadequate, increasing procedures may produce poor experiences and avoidable follow-up demand.
“More activity at a non-constraint creates work in process. More capability at the constraint improves the system.”
The constraint is not always a physical resource. It may be a policy, an eligibility rule, missing evidence, a fragmented handover, an information delay or the cognitive burden placed on the patient.
The most important question is therefore not, “How do we improve every step?”
It is, “What currently limits the flow of suitable patients to successful use of the therapy?”
Numbers show where patients are lost. Patient research helps explain why.
Two patients with the same diagnosis may respond very differently. One may actively seek new treatment options. Another may delay action until symptoms become severe. A third may want help but lack confidence in navigating the healthcare system.
Meaningful patient segmentation considers characteristics that influence behavior:
These differences affect whether patients enter the pathway, remain engaged and successfully adopt the solution.
The Gemba is the place where work actually happens. For patients, this includes the home, clinic, hospital and all the places where they manage their condition between formal encounters.
Interviews alone may miss important evidence. People normalize inconvenience, forget workarounds and simplify their past decisions. Observation allows the development team to see what patients actually do.
Good research combines three activities.
Observe. Watch how patients obtain information, prepare, use the solution and respond when something goes wrong.
Immerse. Understand the physical, emotional and practical conditions surrounding the experience.
Engage. Ask open questions that allow patients to describe their goals, fears and frustrations in their own language.
The purpose is to discover the patient’s reality before asking them to evaluate the organization’s preferred answer.
Patients rarely want a medical device for its own sake. They want the progress it may enable.
They may want to recognize deterioration earlier, preserve independence, reduce pain, avoid repeated visits, return to work or prevent a disease from controlling daily life.
A useful job map examines eight recurring stages:
This reveals opportunities beyond the immediate use of the device. The most valuable improvement may involve helping patients prepare, confirm readiness, recognize an exception or understand what happens next.
Stories create understanding, but investment decisions require structured evidence.
Patient observations and comments should be converted into outcome statements that identify:
For example:
“Minimize the time required to recognize that my condition has changed sufficiently to require clinical help.”
Patients can then assess the importance of each outcome and their satisfaction with their current ability to achieve it.
Highly important and poorly satisfied outcomes represent genuine opportunities. This prevents teams from prioritizing attractive features that do not materially improve the patient’s life or progress through the pathway.
“Innovation becomes valuable when it improves an outcome that matters and remains poorly served.”
The Patient Centered Design pathway can be improved through a repeating discipline:
Find the constraint. Identify what currently limits patient flow or successful use.
Optimise for it. Make the best possible use of existing constraint capacity.
Collaborate around it. Align functions and partners so their actions support the constraint.
Uplift it. Add capability, remove restrictive policies or redesign the pathway.
Start Again. Once the constraint moves, identify and address the next limiting factor.
This prevents improvement from becoming a collection of disconnected initiatives. It directs scarce resources toward the factor that most strongly governs the result.
Patient insight should influence more than early product design. It should shape clinical evidence, regulatory strategy, reimbursement, manufacturing, education, market development and post-market support.
The organization should be able to show:
The goal is not simply to place the patient at the center of a diagram. It is to organize the enterprise around delivering better products faster, so that more lives can be changed for good.
Use the Patient Centered Design assessment to determine how well your organization understands its patient journeys, priority outcomes and constraints to patient flow.
The result should be more than another collection of patient opinions. It should provide evidence that directs strategy, investment and execution toward the changes that matter most.
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