Why healthcare transformation depends on both data and depth
We measure everything in healthcare: wait times, readmissions, survey scores … but sometimes, in the rush to quantify everything, analyze it, and report on the numbers, we lose what’s most essential.
In my latest commentary for the Patient Experience Journal, I reflect on something I was able to share with the Patient Experience Symposium last month. I explore how we can bridge the gap between what we measure and the meaning behind the numbers. Patient experience isn’t a choice between numbers and narratives, it’s the ability to see both clearly. This is how we listen and learn from patients to drive transformation of health systems.
Metrics give us structure, accountability, and shared language.
Narrative gives us empathy, insight, and direction.
When we combine the two, we move beyond reporting to understanding. We begin to see patterns that tell us not just how care is delivered, but how it’s felt, and, ultimately, how we can evolve.
In the commentary, I also introduce a metaphor that I hope will be a helpful reminder to look beyond the data to the quiet, graceful shape forming above it all.
This phrase, born from the Age of Enlightenment, gave shape to one of humanity’s boldest experiments: democracy. It was a call to trust human reason, to seek truth, and to pursue knowledge for the betterment of society. It is no exaggeration to say that this call is also at the root of the American healthcare system.
We dared to know.
And because of that, medicine became more than ritual and superstition. We moved from leeches and bloodletting to science and discovery. From trial-and-error to systematic study. From a handful of healers to institutions devoted to research and training.
But daring to know has always had two faces: one of progress, and one of harm.
The Light Side of Knowledge
The Enlightenment promise was immense for medical advancement. By daring to know, physicians and scientists unlocked treatments, surgical techniques, and public health advancements that saved countless lives. We moved away from home remedies and homeopathic medicine (though some may have merit) towards evidence based scientifically replicable treatments. And, overall, we have benefited greatly from this. America became a leader in medical innovation, pioneering everything from anesthesia to organ transplantation to complex health systems designed to serve millions.
Our healthcare system, while messy, fragmented, and inequitable, is built on that foundation of relentless curiosity and advancement. That curiosity has given us breakthroughs that continue to ripple across the world.
The Dark Side of Knowledge
But there is also a shadow in this history. Daring to know often came at the expense of those deemed expendable.
In the 19th century, medical schools often relied on “body snatching” to fuel their teaching. The poor and disenfranchised, those without wealth, family advocates, or social standing, were the most vulnerable. In many schools, it even became a celebrated rite of passage for students to prove their eagerness to learn anatomy by breaking into county or city morgues to steal the bodies of unclaimed persons, alongside other inhumane practices. (Yes, really! See more)
Later, experimentation without consent became institutionalized in horrifying ways. The Tuskegee Study withheld treatment from Black men with syphilis in the name of research. The so-called “fathers of gynecology” conducted painful experiments on enslaved Black women without anesthesia, their suffering treated as collateral for medical progress.
These legacies are not distant. We see their imprint in today’s health disparities, especially in the elevated maternal mortality rates among Black mothers in the United States. Instances when concerned pregnant black women’s pleas are ignored or dismissed, even powerful and famous black women, like tennis GOAT Serena Williams and track star Allyson Felix. Tori Bowie, Olympic Gold Medalist, tragically died due to complications of her pregnancy in 2023, complications that endured in part because of her mistrust of the health system, according to sources close to her.
Daring to know, untethered from dignity, dehumanizes those who were most vulnerable at the presumed benefit of the greater society. But, that perverse arithmetic need not endure. No life is more valuable than another’s, and we can venture to expand knowledge without exploitation and mistreatment.
A New Dare for Our Time
So what does sapere aude mean for us today?
It cannot mean knowledge at any cost. It cannot mean discovery through exploitation. It cannot mean progress that leaves dignity behind.
Instead, we must expand the phrase: dare to know, and dare to care.
Dare to know how dignified our practice can be.
Dare to know how much we can elevate the voices of patients, families, and communities.
Dare to know how equity can be woven into the fabric of healthcare delivery.
Dare to know how joy and trust can coexist with science and discovery.
Daring Care, G.A. Silvera (2025)
We already know how to push the limits of medicine. The harder, braver work is daring to know how much better, how more compassionate, and how more just our care can become.
The Age of Enlightenment taught us to pursue truth. The American experiment taught us to test whether self-governance could endure. Our healthcare history teaches us that knowledge without dignity will always fall short.
Now, the next frontier is not just science. It is human connection. It is time to dare not only to know, but to care.
The next age could leave behind a legacy of innovation, trust, compassion, and joy. Whether history calls it the age of co-production, the age of compassion, or the age of caring doesn’t matter. What matters is that patient advocates declare a new age, again and again, at every indignity, every injustice, and every inequity we see in our systems. We must inject them with empathy, infuse them with compassion, and embolden them with joy so that no patient is ever left to suffer in a system too bold to care.
Recently, I had the opportunity to tour a local hospital that has the distinction of being both academic medical center and safety-net hospital. We spent a lot of time examining patient flow and emergency department overcrowding—and I couldn’t help but think about Disney World.
Disney is a master of movement—orchestrating guest flow through its parks so that everyone gets to the right ride, restaurant, or show with minimal frustration. For many years, patient experience gurus lauded this model for its highlighting the experience while waiting. The waiting room is an experience, the exam room is another, and then the interactions with the care providers, all of them contributing to the overall experience especially in doctor’s offices. But, lets get real— no one enjoys the TVs playing HGTV non-stop for hours on end. I could go on forever on my distaste for doctor’s office waiting rooms, but it seems hospitals are doing much of the same.
On my visit, I learned of several patient flow innovations:
A patient flow coordination room, what they called an “air traffic control room” that tracks every patient—incoming, outgoing, and waiting.
Overflow areas designed to help absorb surges in emergency visits, with plans for even more capacity.
A discharge lounge which holds patients who are medically ready to leave but waiting for transportation.
“Air traffic control” Patient Command Central photo by G. Silvera
There’s an entire logistics operation designed to move patients efficiently. The ethos, if I understand it correctly, is sound and perhaps even noble. Patients who need care should be able to access care and if there is a patient that no longer needs care or can be better taken care of at another level, we need to move them along to open up space for the next patient. But here’s the thing: everywhere is full at every level.
We have pioneered systems to improve intake, and still, patient overflow is an issue. Every innovation that I have seen to address patient flow ends up butting up against the same reality, at some point, there is nowhere else to send the patient. We have organized too many of our systems in this country for the next patient, and, far too often, we have done so at the expense of the patient in front of us.
And I’ll say it again, because it is worth repeating, the queue is not the patient.
Disney Wants to Keep People Moving. Healthcare Shouldn’t.
Crowds line the way to Cinderella Castle at the Magic Kingdom. Credit…Joe Burbank/Orlando Sentinel, via Associated Press
Disney’s goal is to keep you flowing through different experiences—moving from ride to ride, maximizing time in the park. Hospitals should have the opposite goal:
🚫 Minimize unnecessary patient movement
🚫 Keep care as close to the patient as possible
🚫 Ensure every transfer serves a real purpose
What Healthcare Can Learn from Disney+
Think about how Disney changed retail strategies.
Disney Stores once brought the magic to malls
Now, Disney+ brings the magic directly to homes
Healthcare is undergoing a similar transformation: ✔ Telehealth eliminates the need for travel ✔ Home-based care brings services to patients ✔ Hospital-at-home models provide inpatient-level care outside traditional walls
Yet, inside hospitals, we still shuffle patients around— transferring them between rooms, waiting areas, departments, and even hospitals. To what end? What is the meaning behind the movement? Is it for patient’s needs or someone else’s?
What If We Built Minimally Disruptive Hospitals?
There’s a concept called “Minimally Disruptive Medicine” that focuses on reducing the disruption of medical visits—especially for elderly patients who rely on caregivers for transportation and support.
What if we applied this thinking inside hospitals?
Fewer unnecessary transfers
More bedside diagnostics and treatment
Care moving to patients, instead of patients moving to care
I am not sure what it would look like exactly, but I have an image of care providers moving through a patient room rather than patients moving through the hospital. For the clinically inclined, what if instead of being the blood that pumps through the hospital, patients were the heart. I encourage us all to think more critically about how disruptively care is currently modeled. Because in the end, patients are not guests in our hospitals.
Are we designing hospitals for operational efficiency instead of patient dignity? How can we make hospital care less disruptive and more patient-centered?
Drop your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear your perspective.
Geoffrey Silvera, PhD MHA 