Adapted from the inaugural address of the 2024 Colorado Medical Society Annual Meeting

Kim Warner, MD

Take a moment to recall your funniest and most disastrous medical story. Mine was my first cesarean section. It was my first night call on labor and delivery, which was also my first night of my intern year. I have very little recollection of the entire night except for these few minutes. My upper levels called an emergency C-section. I’m sure it was because the baby was not tolerating labor. My chief resident, deck doc and attending surgeon all scrubbed very quickly at the scrub sink and dripped water to the entrance of the operating room door. I finished scrubbing my hands and immediately slipped in the puddle of water that was left. Flat. On. My. Face. I also lost my right contact lens. I quickly re-scrubbed, gowned and gloved and made it to the table right as the head was being delivered. I was so sweaty from adrenaline and fear by this moment that I couldn’t see through my face shield as it was completely steamed up. Drenched in sweat, half blind and very nauseated, we finished the surgery, and I remember the chief resident asking if I would be comfortable presenting the case at morbidity and mortality conference the following week. I literally had no idea what had just happened.

A little insight into me for those of you who don’t know me: We have all taken many types of personality tests, and in one I come up with red energy, which can be explained as “ready, fire and then aim.” I’m excellent at action (think crash cesarean section…except my first one) and problem-solving. My “area of opportunity” is patience. I’m also quite competitive. I would often say “second place is the first loser.” I have matured and now understand the issues with that statement; I’m sure it was quite traumatic to my daughters. Maybe I should say “the second mouse gets the cheese.” I like 70s rock, James Taylor and Bonnie Raitt. I like running, hiking, skiing, winning. I like when people are on time. I like kindness, when people look you in the eye. I like beach vacations, scuba diving, family dinners, Thanksgiving, red wine and being warm. I really like cute shoes.

I wrote this speech on the day my mentor and the woman who delivered my daughters died. We all remember that special mentor in our lives. Lynette Vialet was the epitome of strength and resilience. She was a flight surgeon in the Air Force, one of the most respected physicians in our hospital, and a Jazzercise instructor. She knew just what to do in every situation. She took incredible ownership of patients, and it was my honor to work with her. She was one of us. One of the best of us. She was magical.

I want to talk about karma and magic. These concepts are so non-scientific and not evidence based, which sometimes makes me skeptical of them. For example, I’m not sure I believe in karma 100 percent, but I am one of those people that will trap spiders and most flying insects in our house under a glass and take them outside to release them. Maybe that buys me a little protection? Maybe what you give comes back to you. 

I do believe in magic, however, and will share three major magical experiences from my life.

In 2001, approximately two weeks before the planes flew into the World Trade Center, I got to climb Kilimanjaro with my husband, Rick [May], and several of our friends. The sixth day on the mountain was summit day. You wake up before midnight in the dark, eat some oatmeal and start climbing up a narrow path to the summit. You’re in a single line with headlamps on and the mantra “pole, pole,” which means “slow, slow.” Any of you who know me know that my mantra has never been “pole, pole, slow, slow.” You wear everything you own to keep warm and for six hours continue to climb up in a single file line eating frozen Snickers bars in the dark and wondering if you’re actually ever going to summit. At about 6 a.m., the sun started to rise right above the summit, and it was by far one of the most glorious moments in my life. It signified the beauty in this world, the magic in this world, the peace, and the strength of human resilience. 

My second most magical experience was scuba diving in Palau. To me diving is one of the most peaceful places where my mind finally doesn’t race and I’m not thinking about the checklist of things I have to do, or the next place I have to go, or the song that is running through my mind on a loop, but I can just be. You listen to your breath. About 15 minutes into our dive – which was glorious because we saw stingrays and eels, the most enormous grouper and the most fabulous coral – a boat seemed to be stopped above us. We looked up and it was a 30-foot whale shark hovering above our group. Apparently, they like the bubbles. She – and I’m guessing it was a she because I have connections with women – stayed above us for about 20 minutes while we just knelt on the bottom of the ocean floor and watched her circle. This magnificent, enormous, gorgeous creature I believe was there because I needed to feel more connection and purpose at that time in my life. Magic.

Then I realize what physicians get to do daily for our jobs is one of the most magical things anybody can imagine. Not a single moment or experience on a summit or in the ocean, but every day. I know you all feel this as well and that is why we keep doing what we’re doing. I was lucky enough to choose the absolute correct profession for me and I feel like what this world needed from me. What we get to do as physicians is unlike any other profession. In times of need people trust us with their lives. That is magical. For all of us. Even when you fall on your face and lose a contact lens. Magic. 

I’m sure you’ve all heard the commencement address tennis great Roger Federer gave at this year’s 2024 Dartmouth commencement. He said in the 1,526 singles matches he played in his career, he won almost 80 percent of them…but he only won 54 percent of the points. His message was that it was only one point, one shot. I find that so admirable as I have never been able to successfully and consistently recover from small losses. But what is poignant about this is that in medicine we can’t lose 50 percent of the points. We must be 99.9 percent perfect. That is a lot of weight, a lot of stress and a lot of heaviness. And maybe a little magic. 

I’ve been a member of the Colorado Medical Society since I was in medical school. This organization has provided camaraderie, relationships and, for me, a passion for advocacy. I want to make note that this is the first year in CMS history that there are women in both the president and president-elect roles! As Elenor Roosevelt said, “well behaved women rarely make history,” right, Brigitta [Robinson]?

The CMS team is world class, and I feel grateful to be given the opportunity to lead the society for the next year. Our value truly lies in our wellness programs, our commitment to increasing our diversity, equity and inclusion, and a connection with the component societies. But our true strength lies in our advocacy. Our Council on Legislation did spectacular work this session. They are nimbler than the Council has ever been before. The huge lift was the skillful negotiations around raising the damage limit on liability caps and maintaining general liability laws, preserving professional review and avoiding a costly ballot fight. This affects every physician in the state, and it was a well-strategized, Herculean effort. Prior authorization reform, protecting the privacy of biological data, and indefinitely postponing naturopathic doctor formularies maintains the integrity of our practices and patient protection and safety.  

My goal for this year is to make sure we work to increase our membership and that physicians’ impressions and the reputation of the Colorado Medical Society are expanded. Forty-three percent of nonmembers have a positive impression of CMS, 31 percent have a neutral impression and 10 percent have a negative impression. We need to be intentional about communicating the value of CMS to all our Colorado physicians and continue building relationships with our component societies. Our goal this year is to create a 2024-2025 strategic plan that is not just a refresh but a plan with meaningful results based on the objectives of advocacy, belonging, educating and engaging, and stewardship.

I am grateful to all CMS members for trusting me this year. To Omar [Mubarak], for being such a strategic partner. Shannon Groves, my government relations work spouse, and best teammate at the Capitol. My two best friends, Aimee and Shannon, whom I have known since my 20s and who have taught me what it is to be a great friend. My momma Valerie, my guiding force who taught me to love unconditionally. My twins, Skylar and Alex, who have grit, empathy and are hilarious. My oldest daughter, Kiah, who is spectacularly intelligent and kind. My husband, Rick May, the kindest, smartest, strongest, most resilient person I’ve ever met. 

Before I conclude, remember to always be nice to the people who have access to your toothbrush! Be the kind of person that when your feet hit the floor in the morning the devil says “oh crap, she’s up.” To paraphrase Audrey Hepburn: I believe in being strong especially when everything seems to be going wrong, and I believe in magic.

Let’s make some magic this year.