Member since July 2026
Emily Boss, MD, MPH is a Johns Hopkins pediatric surgeon, communication scientist, health system leader, and mother of teens. She is also fairly funny.
In her surgical practice, she addresses critical functions of children’s health: breathing, sleeping, hearing, and communicating. She has also spent two decades studying how physicians and families talk to each other and make medical decisions.
Her research group, The Boss Lab, has analyzed more than 500 real-time pediatric consultations to understand how trust is built in the exam room and why families of children with the same problem may make very different choices for care. The findings explain why so many mothers walk out feeling unsettled or second-guessing themselves, and what it takes to leave feeling heard, confident, and clear instead. Her data also shows all of the ways doctors and patients talk to each other...or don't talk to each other, and why there is so much unexplained variation in medicine. Her research has been federally funded, widely published, and internationally recognized.
Dr. Boss has also spent her career inside the health system leading programs in surgical quality, performance improvement, revenue cycle transformation, and clinical operations across Johns Hopkins Medicine. She knows how the health system works, where it fails families, when it is too bulky and ridiculous, and what it takes to change it.
As a physician and parent, she sits on both sides of the exam table and understands how crazy-making the system can feel to families trying to make medical decisions for their children.
People at the core of healthcare; making healthcare easy; building trust in healthcare; pulling back the curtain on what happens in a doctors visit; kids health; ENT surgery; my massive 125 lb labradoodle; NYT Sunday crossword; cheese; Pelotons
A couple of years ago, I decided to take a surfing lesson with my 11-year-old daughter while on vacation. (Note to readers: Do not do this at age 49.) But instead of gaining an exciting new skill and cool mom card, I got a 90 percent tear of my left hamstring after falling backward off of the board. This searingly painful injury made it hard to move, walk, or even sit—something that did not gel with my busy life as a mom, a surgeon, and a distance runner.
I went to three bro surgeons who all told me different things. I went to Facebook and found so many patients who were pointed in opposite directions. I was reminded what I sort of already knew: that medicine is filled with brilliant science, amazing expertise, and a whole lot of opinion.
In this story I will describe my journey, what it reinforced about healthcare to me, and how I became a better doctor because of the experience. And I will invite the audience to reflect on their own experiences as patients, empowering them with communication tools so they receive care that is right for them.
I was an art and student government type of kid--tried to rid myself of science early on. My younger sister, now a healthy adult, had leukemia when she was 4 years old. I reflected a lot on what my parents experienced having a child with cancer--how they interacted with us (her sisters), their community, her doctors. How they kept their heads up and stayed grounded. I decided to go into medicine (and still majored in fine arts!).
Now, a practicing pediatric ear nose throat surgeon at Johns Hopkins for two decades, I help children communicate, breathe, sleep, and hear. I talk to mothers, fathers, caregivers in and out, every day, understanding how much individual relationships and trust in medicine affect downstream care for their children.
As a surgeon-scientist, I study these relationships. My NIH-funded lab has audio-recorded and analyzed 500+ real-time patient encounters to learn how parents and physicians talk to each other and make decisions for surgery. We study overuse and appropriate use of healthcare and show how it all points back to that first conversation.
I am also a physician leader working with clinical operations, patient safety, performance improvement, and revenue cycle management. Through this seat I am able to understand and influences how health systems--their technology, workflows, and organizational approach--can make or break the human relationship at the center of care.
Even for the most common medical conditions and procedures, care varies widely. Learn why and how to ensure the right care for the right patient.
The gap between the conversation both sides think they're having, and the one that's actually occurring.
What builds trust quickly in a short visit, what erodes it, and why telling physicians to "communicate better" is the wrong fix for a system problem.
How healthcare organizations, technology, and policy can support the relationship at the center of care, instead of crowding it out.
What it actually looks like when a patient or parent makes a decision with a clinician. Why doing nothing is still a treatment choice. How to make decisions around outcomes that matter the most to patients and families.
A couple of years ago, I decided to take a surfing lesson with my 11-year-old daughter while on vacation. (Note to readers: Do not do this at age 49.) But instead of gaining an exciting new skill and cool mom card, I got a 90 percent tear of my left hamstring after falling backward off of the board. This searingly painful injury made it hard to move, walk, or even sit—something that did not gel with my busy life as a mom, a surgeon, and a distance runner.
I went to three bro surgeons who all told me different things. I went to Facebook and found so many patients who were pointed in opposite directions. I was reminded what I sort of already knew: that medicine is filled with brilliant science, amazing expertise, and a whole lot of opinion.
In this story I will describe my journey, what it reinforced about healthcare to me, and how I became a better doctor because of the experience. And I will invite the audience to reflect on their own experiences as patients, empowering them with communication tools so they receive care that is right for them.
I was an art and student government type of kid--tried to rid myself of science early on. My younger sister, now a healthy adult, had leukemia when she was 4 years old. I reflected a lot on what my parents experienced having a child with cancer--how they interacted with us (her sisters), their community, her doctors. How they kept their heads up and stayed grounded. I decided to go into medicine (and still majored in fine arts!).
Now, a practicing pediatric ear nose throat surgeon at Johns Hopkins for two decades, I help children communicate, breathe, sleep, and hear. I talk to mothers, fathers, caregivers in and out, every day, understanding how much individual relationships and trust in medicine affect downstream care for their children.
As a surgeon-scientist, I study these relationships. My NIH-funded lab has audio-recorded and analyzed 500+ real-time patient encounters to learn how parents and physicians talk to each other and make decisions for surgery. We study overuse and appropriate use of healthcare and show how it all points back to that first conversation.
I am also a physician leader working with clinical operations, patient safety, performance improvement, and revenue cycle management. Through this seat I am able to understand and influences how health systems--their technology, workflows, and organizational approach--can make or break the human relationship at the center of care.
Even for the most common medical conditions and procedures, care varies widely. Learn why and how to ensure the right care for the right patient.
The gap between the conversation both sides think they're having, and the one that's actually occurring.
What builds trust quickly in a short visit, what erodes it, and why telling physicians to "communicate better" is the wrong fix for a system problem.
How healthcare organizations, technology, and policy can support the relationship at the center of care, instead of crowding it out.
What it actually looks like when a patient or parent makes a decision with a clinician. Why doing nothing is still a treatment choice. How to make decisions around outcomes that matter the most to patients and families.
