By Regina Holliday. I don’t know about you, but I love those promotional items I pick up at conferences.  I think it is really cool that my five-year old has a Health 2.0 water bottle and that my 13 year-old has a Cerner backpack.  I carry my Disposable Film Festival messenger back on every trip and I wear my Practice Fusion t-shirt all over DC.

By Regina Holliday. On the evening of Tuesday June 7th 2011 the Kaiser Permanente Center for Total Health, located beside Union Station in Washington DC, will become a gallery for one night. 

We won’t pound a single nail into the walls to hold the art.  This shall be The Walking Gallery.  That night dozens of people will walk into the space wearing business jackets or doctor’s lab coats.  That alone is not unusual.  It would be a daily occurrence in this dual-use space.  But these jackets will be works of art.  Each one shall be painted with the story of a patient or an element of medical advocacy by me or another artist.  These masterpieces will be worn on the backs of government employees, technology gurus, medical professionals, social media activists, CEO’s of companies and artists.  It shall be a great meeting of the minds.

The Walking Gallery will happen because Jen McCabe followed me on Twitter on May 30th 2009.    That was the day before I placed the Medical Facts Mural in Pumpernickels Deli on Connecticut Ave.  That was a day when my Fred was still alive and could speak and eat again because of the wonderful care he was receiving in Washington Home Hospice.  Jen was one of my first followers on Twitter and is such a glorious spark of life.  

On August 20th she emailed me after I had posted a comment on her blog and asked me if I would paint a series of paintings on the back of her blazers to wear to upcoming health meetings.  I told her I would be honored to paint jackets for her.  Jen responded, “Symbols and talismans mean quite a bit to me, and having things constructed by friends is one way to remind myself why I do the work I do and forego so many of the other things I enjoy.  I’m so happy to have a wearable badge of courage – just wrote an index card for myself to remind me of the importance of patient advocacy by “any means necessary.”  Art is another one of those means.”

I finished the second mural “73 Cents” on September 30th 2009.  It was my feverish obsession in the weeks after Fred’s death.  “73 Cents” was a thing that I had to do.  It soothed my soul; it spoke to me and calmed my aching heart.  It gave me a reason to leave the solitary confines of my mind and my widowhood.  It gave me permission to stand on the street and talk with complete strangers about the grief roaring within me.  I often go to social justice events and hear about the chronically homeless on the street.  I hear workers complain that they find small single apartments for these folks to live in, but instead many return to the street.

I think I know the reason why. 

It is hard to be alone when sadness is engulfing the mind.  The street is alive, and there the broken congregate and help each other.  Each day I painted I made many new friends, but those who came back and spoke to eye to eye were often the most dispossessed and the homeless. 

Without Jen’s suggestion that I paint jackets, I would have gone home, my Magnum Opus done, to loneliness and grief.  Yes, I was still blogging, but that was not enough.  I had to paint.  I had to spread the word through art.  Jen had provided a new “wall,” and that wall could walk into the Mayo clinic or the National Board of Medical Examiners and remind everyone of those patients who suffer in a system without real time data access.

I would paint and post images of three jackets for Jen:  “Data Prison” on October 5th 2009, (more…)

Take a few minutes and view this video featuring Disruptive Women Regina Holliday: Remember Your Hollidays – A Message for Caregivers . We promise it is well worth your time!

By Regina Holliday. On Thursday night in an office space in Georgetown a crowd was forming. It was an after-hours crowd. The room was filling with advocates, artists, professors, and students. There were doctors, IT professionals, authors, and members of the community. There were mothers, fathers, grandparents and children. They had all come to see an exhibit of art.

This office was the shared space for Clinovations and Osmosis. The wonderful folks at Clinovations had suggested placing one of my paintings in their space to brighten up the blank white walls. Perhaps one of my paintings would support an even greater awareness of the need for patient-centered care. I thought, why stop with one painting why not many? Why not have an entire show and invite people from every facet of health care and beyond? I wanted to create a space for conversation and networking. I wanted people to get together and have some face time surrounded by art.

I envisioned a crowd of people thinking of ways to provide better care for patients everywhere. As I thought about this, I realized that this concept would be the focal piece of the show. Give Us Our Dammed Data is my first crowd-sourced painting, and it features quite a crowd. I wanted to paint a citizen army of patient advocate authors. I knew quite a few from Facebook and Twitter and had read their work. So I asked for suggestions from Dave DeBronkart, Trisha Torrey, Lisa Lindell and Helen Haskell. Between the five us we created a list of potential authors. Helen suggested I contact all of them and ask their permission to include them in the painting. With her help I found their addresses. I really enjoyed the give and take of emailing each author. I explained I wanted to paint them and their books.

And so another crowd gathered in Georgetown on Thursday night. They did not move or laugh. They did not drink wine or nibble the delicate appetizers. Instead, they stared down upon us with sorrowful smiles. In a room usually filled with laptop computers and hushed conversation hung a large painting picturing a crowd of authors. These authors’ books span 15 years, and all of them are telling a very similar tale.

17 authors with weapons in hand stare down upon the viewer. The three panel painting measures 60 inches by 144 inches. It is a very large painting, and yet it is crowded with many who have been hurt and many who have suffered. Every one of them is an author. Most of the authors in the painting took the hurt and outrage they felt about a dysfunctional medical system and channeled that into a book. That book is their shield and their pen is a spear.

These are people who have taken up arms in a battle they had never intended to fight. Note they are dressed only loose robes or hospital gowns. Their feet are bare. They dress as the supplicant or the pilgrim. They are on a mission. For some of the citizen soldiers it has been a very long path.

Journalist Michael Millenson’s Demanding Medical Excellence was published in 1997, and as you read it it is hard to comprehend it was written 13 years ago. It reads like it was written yesterday. So in the far left panel Michael’s back faces the viewer in the piece. The public has not been listening. He is turned toward a fellow advocate who will spread the word. He is speaking to Julia A. Hallisy who looks concerned. And so she should. (more…)

By Regina Holliday. On Monday, June 7th, I had the pleasure of attending the “Health 2.0 Goes to Washington” conference. It was the meeting of great minds. Attendees came from all over the United States and included representatives from government, medicine and information technology. In this heady mix of professions, patient advocates were liberally sprinkled. I was so excited to see that every panel had a patient representative. This was such a change. At this point I have attended quite a few medical conferences. I have never seen such an amazing selection of patient speakers.

Standing room only Health 2.0

I also noticed this conference differed in other ways. I was intrigued by the all the people standing along the sidelines watching the speeches. There were plenty of seats available. These were nice upholstered theatre-style seats. Yet, people were standing or lounging on stair steps. I looked around. Were they attempting to play hooky? Were they standing up in order to more easily join in a hallway conversation? I looked out in the hallway. Nope, no one was goofing off or socializing. I sat down myself, only to stand 15 minutes later. I joined the standing ones. I was so filled with energy and excitement that I could not sit. I could not be contained like that. I looked among those standing. I noticed a lot of techies and early adapters. I saw a group of people who might have been termed ADHD. I saw people who would not sit still. Thank God for these people who refuse to sit still. They refuse to wait for incremental change in our medical system. Thank God for sites such as Jamie Heywood’s “Patients Like Me” or Trisha Torrey and her blog “Every Patient’s Advocate.” Thank God for David Hale at NIH working on the Pillbox program that will enable the rapid classification pills by appearance alone. These amazing people were willing to stand up and create positive change within the system. To outsiders the standing ones may have seemed foolish. After all, there were plenty of chairs. Foolish or genius: It is just a matter of perspective. Sometimes you just can’t sit still and wait for change.

Looking back, I have always had a hard time sitting still. (more…)