| Ten years ago, the medical
center was terra incognita
for the broadcast media
-- and vice versa.
BY M.A. MALONE, BROADCAST MEDIA MANAGER,
STANFORD UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
MEDICAL BROADCASTS ARE NOTHING NEW.
Two years ago, archeologists working in the Provencal region of
southern France, discovered a troglodyte cave that led to a rotunda-like
chamber deep within the earth. The scientists were stunned when
they realized that the wondrous remnants of early wall-art were
not intended to be viewed individually, but in rapid succession.
For the full experience, the viewer would race at top speed around
the perimeter of the rotunda. This would visually link the consecutive
drawings to create the effect of motion (à la Muybridge).
As the tableau came alive, one could make out a prehistoric figure
demonstrating what appears to be a treatment for carpal tunnel syndrome
-- an ailment presumed to be common to the hunter-gatherer.
OK, I CONFESS, THE ABOVE TALE IS FICTIONAL.
I point this out at the insistence of my editor, who tells me she's
concerned many Stanford Medicine readers might take it seriously.
So, I repeat, the story is not true -- but I leave it in to make
a point of how far we've come from those TV-free days.
Now, at the end of the 20th century,
medical and science broadcasts are ubiquitous. They fit as comfortably
into the daily newscasts as feet into favorite sneakers, and as
the public's appetite for health-related topics continues to increase,
the media responds by serving bigger, more plentiful portions.
Ten years ago, when this trend was
just beginning to gather steam, I was hired by the News Bureau to
work exclusively with the broadcast media. This allowed the overloaded
writing staff to focus on the more established, respectable methods
of disseminating Stanford University Medical Center news -- articles,
magazines, newsletters and press releases.
I fielded requests and queries from
the local stations, and I pitched ideas to the national and international
media who clamored to shoot "anything cutting edge at Stanford."
That wasn't difficult.
The tricky part was setting up the
"shoot." It sounded simple on paper, but the reality was that the
denizens of the Medical Center considered the broadcast media to
be a suspicious mass. Finding the right doctor -- appropriate, agreeable
and available -- and a telegenic location for an interview were
next to impossible. At that time, perhaps less than 10 percent of
the medical center staff understood the value and positive potential
of the broadcast media. Administrators who had the authority to
sanction cameras on their turf had hair-trigger nix-reflexes. There
were occasions when my requests to accompany a TV crew into certain
areas of the Med Center would induce such emphatic consternation,
that I'd wonder if I'd mistakenly asked for clearance to drive goats
through the OR.
Slowly, the atmosphere has relaxed.
Over the course of the last 10 years, legions from the Med Center
have merged with the media to produce an impressive body of well-received
news pieces, and our relationship with the broadcast media has settled
into a symbiosis. Many of those who viewed the media with suspicion
take a more benign stance nowa days.
Some even communicate routinely with network-level producers and
correspondents. The evidence speaks for itself: Four roving videographers
were allowed a month of 24-hour, non-stop access to document a dicey
slice of life and death in one of medicine's most litigious arenas.
Bravo to all involved! SM
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