ICU Opinion:
I have worked in ICUs long enough to have been through plenty of The Joint Commission (TJC, formerly JCAHO) survey weeks. And I have to admit, the longer I do this, the more skeptical I become about how much of the bureaucracy around hospital accreditation actually makes patients safer.
I am not against standards. Hospitals need outside scrutiny and TJC has done important work. Medication safety, infection prevention, handoffs and procedural safeguards matter. Outside pressure has helped change practices that needed to change.
My problem is when patient safety turns into compliance theater.
If you've worked in a hospital during survey week, you know the ritual. Suddenly everyone is worried about where your coffee is sitting. Tape disappears from walls. Doors, ceiling tiles, refrigerators and labels become urgent concerns. At least my beloved ultrasound machine is finally back where it belongs and plugged into the wall!
Then administrators who rarely set foot on the unit, and probably haven't visited us since the ribbon-cutting ceremony, show up to remind us about rules that somehow become much more important when the surveyors are in the building.
Meanwhile, the ICU is still the ICU. A nurse is titrating three vasopressors, managing CRRT and trying to stop a delirious patient from pulling out his femoral arterial line. Someone is intubating. Another patient is spitting at us and demanding to leave AMA.
But please, let's talk about that covered cup.
The coffee is actually a good example of the larger problem. Even the famous “TJC says you can't drink at the nursing station” rule isn't that simple. Hospitals can designate safe areas for food and drink based on exposure risk. But by the time a rule works its way through hospital committees, policies and layers of administration, the nuance is often gone.
Rules beget rules.
Hospitals write policies around standards. Consultants prepare hospitals for surveys. Staff are prepared for the consultants who are preparing everyone for the survey. My work mailbox gets an email every other day warning me about the visit. Eventually, nobody remembers whether a requirement came from CMS, OSHA, TJC, the hospital—or something somebody heard years ago that somehow became hospital law.
All of this takes time. So what are we getting in return?
A BMJ study of more than 4.2 million Medicare admissions found no significant 30-day mortality associated with accreditation, or for TJC-accredited hospitals compared with other independent accreditors.
That doesn't settle whether accreditation works. Mortality is only one outcome. But it should make us question the assumption that more compliance automatically means better care.
There is also a part of this system worth being transparent about. Hospitals pay accrediting organizations to evaluate them. TJC has a controlled affiliate, Joint Commission Resources, that provides education and consulting services related to accreditation and quality. That relationship does not by itself mean anything improper is happening. Formal safeguards separate the accreditation and consulting functions to address potential or perceived conflicts of interest. Still, I think it's reasonable to ask how that relationship works and how those safeguards are maintained.
To be clear: I don't want to abolish accreditation or leave hospitals to police themselves. My point is simpler: if we're going to ask a nurse or physician to do something in the name of patient safety, we should be able to show that it actually makes patients safer.
Every requirement costs something: money, another click in the EHR, another mandatory module or a few more minutes spent on compliance instead of with a patient.
We ask for evidence before we do things to our patients. I don't think it's unreasonable to ask for evidence before we make clinicians do things in the name of protecting them.
The ICU does not become safer because TJC survey week started.
And yes, let the night-shift ICU nurse drink her coffee.