Weekly review cw 36

It's a warm summer evening in Hamburg. Shortly after dinner, my daughter wants to take a walk with me. This is a sign that she has something on her mind and demands my full attention. While we are out, my cell phone isn't with me, and so there are no distractions – a clever approach. I should consider this for myself as well (another sentence with “should”).

We're almost at the end of our walk, near the subway station. While I'm thinking to myself, “Oh, what a pity, this wonderful walk is already over,” her observation has a much greater impact: “Today is the last day of holiday. Why can't we have a holiday every day?” This is, of course, a very excellent question that I should urgently pursue (should again). What strikes me more prominently is a missing feeling, which I'm surprised by…

Concept for Offline Mode

Based on the context above, the headline probably conjures up something different from what I'm trying to outline here. Over the course of the week, I had intensive discussions with Maurice about how we can enable our app users to enter patient documentation even when they're offline. The difficulty here is less the actual documentation. That would “just” involve filling out a form with a few input fields and some text.

The challenge lies in getting app users to navigate to this form. A patient search is performed by name, and the results are retrieved from the server. This query isn't possible offline. The number of patients is limited so that we can store them on the device. If we pursue this approach, the next step remains: patient selection and showing the record.

The patient record is displayed with detailed information, including current treatments and tasks of the respective therapists. Even this amount of data could be stored on the device. However, there are – rightly – data protection concerns. In addition to the classic personal information, such as name, date of birth, and address, particularly sensitive data, such as diagnoses, would be stored on the device for all known patients. This makes it clear: This approach has unacceptable consequences. We need to be smarter here.

In essence, we identify the relevant patients for each therapist, maintain their patient records and treatments, and thus allow documentation. As soon as treatments are completed or the patient is no longer relevant to the therapist, the data set is deleted from the device. What sounds simple is somewhat more complicated in detail. The appeal of the solution is that it is transparent to the therapist whether they have a network connection or not, whether they are online or offline. Documentation is possible, and thus the primary objective is achieved: The mandatory task of “documenting” is as pleasant and easy as possible.

I'd even go that far. Documentation is fun – at least compared to the previous process, where I had to find an Excel spreadsheet with cryptic abbreviations within obscure folder structures, locate and fill in the right cell in dozens of worksheets, and hope that no duplicate data was created when saving due to connectivity issues.

My surprise

So, I'm currently walking the last few meters past the subway station on my way home, thinking about my daughter's words. However, I'm looking at the question of why the holidays should never end from a different perspective. Many things end one day. That's usually what makes the moments so valuable and special. However, I've always struggled with negative feelings towards the end. A kind of frustration or anger that it's over. That turns into a sort of despair that I hadn't made the most of the time.

This emotional chaos made it almost impossible for me to enjoy the last moments of many things truly. It made me a real jerk. Today is different. I'm content. The holidays are coming to an end, and they were terrific. The walk ends, and I know what's currently bothering my daughter. I know the reason for my serenity. At least, I'm convinced that my journal and the evening ritual of closing the day contribute significantly to it.