The whole list. Nothing on it is coming soon.

Bring a CSV out of any EHR or practice-management system. Column names are flexible — “name”, “patient”, “pt_name” all land in the same place — combined name fields split themselves, and every row is previewed as new, already here, or an error with the reason, before anything saves. Up to 500 rows a pass.

Enrollment happens on Janssen’s website. Lucido collates every answer that site asks for — clinic, prescriber, patient, history — with a copy button on each field, and tells you what is still missing before you open it.

A patient carries two separate facts: REMS enrolled, and enrollment form filed. Only the second one stops anything. A first dose is refused on the server until the Patient Enrollment Form is marked filed, so a crafted request cannot walk around it. The phone shows the status; the refusal is not the phone’s to make.

The pre-session checklist — identity, REMS enrollment, transport home — is three toggles a human ticks, plus the medication-change review. Marking a patient enrolled does not tick them. Software that quietly completed a safety checklist on somebody’s behalf would be worse than no checklist.

A slot is offered when a room is free, the provider is genuinely free — their own weekly hours, their booked appointments, their time off — the clinic is open, and the appointment’s own length fits inside the day. The patient’s existing appointments are checked too, so nobody is offered two places at once.

Every appointment type ships configured — a two-hour dosing session, a sixty-minute intake, a twenty-minute check-in, thirty minutes of psychiatry, fifty minutes of therapy — each with its own length, color and room rule, and all of them on one calendar, because a clinic has one.

The filter is the question a front desk actually asks, not a length in minutes. Up to six times a day are offered across up to eight days, sampled evenly from opening to close, so an afternoon caller is not read a list of six mornings.

An appointment type can be limited to particular roles, and a person can have their own list of what they deliver. Both have to agree: a type restricted to prescribers stays restricted even if somebody is listed against it by mistake.

Per-weekday hours, not one pair of times stretched over the week, plus dated closures that can shut a day or shorten it. A Friday that closes at one has no afternoon, and the search knows that on that Friday alone.

An appointment type can require a minimum number of staff rostered for its whole length — the staffing question, answered without a staffing product. A dosing session that would leave the floor uncovered is not offered.

Spravato is twice a week, then weekly. Plan the eight-week induction once and each of the twelve sessions is searched for in turn, starting from the one before it, so the course cannot double-book itself. Where a session has to drift off its target date, the plan says by how many days before you commit.

A double-booked room or patient is refused outright. The softer clashes — a provider booked twice, a time outside normal hours — ask you to confirm, and the confirmation is written to the audit trail with which rule was overridden.

Not an empty list. “Nobody is set up to deliver that session type.” “This clinic has no active rooms.” “That is limited to prescribers — widen it in Settings, or pick another type.”

Sent the moment the appointment is made rather than waiting for the overnight sweep — a confirmation that arrives an hour later often reaches a patient still standing at the desk. It is best-effort by design: a booking that was made never fails because an email did not go.

At an hour the clinic picks, nine in the morning until it says otherwise. Notice is set per appointment type, and a day holding two appointments goes at the longer of their leads, because a late warning is worse than an early one. One email per patient per day, whatever is on it.

Nothing goes out for an appointment less than two hours away — that is not a reminder, it is a message that arrives after the patient has left the house. A cancellation has no such floor: “do not come” is worth sending at any notice.

The sweep fingerprints what a patient’s day looks like rather than reacting to events, so a reschedule, a moved time or a switch to video reaches them without a single hook in the booking code. Rebooking the same slot under a new id is not a change, and does not email anybody.

The message renders from a projection built field by field, which has no clinical column on it at all — no appointment type, no dose, no diagnosis, no drug. There is nothing in the object for a logger or a template to leak. The few preparation lines a patient may see (“please arrange for someone to drive you home afterwards”) are Lucido’s own words, not free text a clinic can type into.

Every message carries a real one-click unsubscribe in its headers, the kind a mail client honors without opening anything, and a link to change the address or turn reminders off. Declining is recorded as a decision, not as a missing preference, so nothing can default it back on.

The first message any address gets names no patient, no clinic and no appointment — if a mistyped address reached a stranger, it would tell them nothing except that somebody typed it. Correcting an address later revokes the consent attached to the old one, and the ledger stores which wording of the “email is not secure” warning was shown at the time.

The name, reply address and phone number that patients see are the clinic’s to set, and nothing sends until all three are. A patient-facing name that would itself disclose the treatment is refused at the point somebody tries to save it.

Who is in, which phase they are in, and how many minutes are left on each clock. Up Next names the single next thing to do. Nobody walks the hall to check on room 2.

A daily five-digit clinic code and a personal four-digit PIN, on the clinician’s own phone. No accounts to provision, no shared password, and every action signed to a name. The code proves somebody is in the building, which is why it will not open the treatment day from home.

Tap an empty dosing bay, pick the patient, and the session starts there — no prior booking needed. Consult and telehealth rooms are refused, because a monitored session belongs in a dosing bay.

At check-in, staff confirm what has changed. A benzodiazepine, opioid or stimulant is flagged with its class as they type, and the concomitant answer has to be settled before the record saves.

Checked against your clinic’s own thresholds. An out-of-range reading pauses dosing until a prescriber reviews it and signs off with a reason.

Point the phone at the carton and tap once; the printed label works if the barcode will not. That exact carton — the serial, not just the lot — lands on the form, and the two-hour clock runs on the server where a closed laptop cannot lose it.

One tap each, with the time they occurred. Discharge stays locked until the window is genuinely complete.

A gentle countdown, a breathing exercise, and three plain buttons that reach every staff phone the moment they are pressed. A tap by mistake is one tap to take back. No app, no login.

Every observation gets a verdict, and anything nobody had a free hand to log at the time can still be added. Symptoms are check-all-that-apply, because the form prints them as four independent boxes. “No serious adverse events” is an answer somebody gives, never a default.

Not a lookalike. The real Patient Monitoring Form, completed from what happened in the room, ready at discharge.

Every completed session waits with its seven-day clock counting down, and email reminders before it runs out.

Straight to the Janssen REMS fax line over a HIPAA business-associate fax service. Delivery confirmed, each session marked filed. A failed fax emails you at once.

Destination, time, pages, and every form on board — archived, and still there years later after the session records themselves have been purged.

Correct a lot number, dose, duration, the early-end reason, the concomitant answer or the adverse-event record while the form is still unfiled. Filed forms are frozen, and every amendment is audit-logged without copying the clinical narrative into the log.

If a patient has a medication change nobody has reviewed, their form is held back — from the download, the bundle, and the one-touch fax alike — and you are told how many were withheld and why.

Medications, assessments, appointments, notes, enrollment status and every session they have had here. Opened with a password rather than the floor PIN, and every opening is written down.

Nine questions and seven, filled in on the phone at the chair or at the desk. The total runs as the answers go in, so nobody is waiting on a save to see roughly where this is landing, and the severity band and the trend line are there the moment it is saved.

The risk item is checked on its own rather than through the total, because a patient can answer it positively and still land in a “mild” band — and that band must not be what decides whether anybody looks. Answer it above “not at all” and the form says so on the question itself, before you save.

A positive item 9 stays visible on that patient and on the patient list until a clinician records what they did about it, in a note that is required rather than an “acknowledged” button. It is deliberately not the full-screen emergency alert: that one means come to this room now, and teaching people to swipe it away would break the path that has to work.

Every score plotted against the scale’s own severity bands, so a fall from moderately severe to mild is something you can see rather than work out, with the movement from baseline in words beside it.

Dated, signed, and sitting where the next clinician will actually find it.

A prescriber can change them without going back to the roster, and the same concomitant screening runs as they type.

The medication screening list is yours to edit: see the built-in drugs, switch a whole class off, add your own names. It flags a class for a clinician to review — it does not make a clinical judgment.

Serial, lot and expiry read straight off the 2-D barcode, with OCR of the printed label when it will not scan. Tag each carton buy-and-bill or white-bag; scanning a pharmacy label reserves that unit for its patient.

Scanning at dosing consumes that exact serial. There is no second place to enter it and no way for the two to disagree.

Split buy-and-bill from white-bag, scan each carton to select it, or run the count blind for an unbiased number. A days-of-stock forecast says when to reorder.

Scan to select, and require a second witness by PIN. A count that will not reconcile is saved as a discrepancy, never a silent edit.

Cartons approaching expiry are flagged, open orders show what has arrived against what was ordered, and low stock emails the owner.

Export the ledger whenever you need it. A nightly integrity check keeps the count honest.

Sessions delivered and sessions missed for the period you ask for, defaulting to the last thirty days. Each delivered row carries the date, the patient, the dose, the monitoring minutes, who administered it, and whether its REMS form has been filed.

Fourteen columns: treatment date, patient name and date of birth, dose in milligrams, monitoring minutes, first device and discharge times, who administered and who supervised, lot number, any discharge note, whether REMS was filed, and a session reference. Times are rendered in the clinic’s own timezone, so a six o’clock dose in Chicago is not filed under tomorrow.

A second list and a second CSV: what happened, when the cancellation came in, how many hours of notice that was against your clinic’s threshold, and whether it met it. A no-show gave no notice by definition; a cancellation with no recorded time is marked unknowable rather than charged, because a missing timestamp is not evidence.

Each missed session is listed or forgiven by a named person, with an optional note about what was done. The report shows what is still open without re-deriving “was that chargeable” anywhere else.

Session records are purged on your retention window, so a period older than it returns less than you asked for. The shortfall is written into the CSV as a note on the last line, not only on the screen — the file gets emailed to a biller who never saw the page, and a short month otherwise reads as a quiet one.

Lucido reports what happened. It assigns no CPT or J-code, counts no units and calculates nothing, because those depend on your payers and your contracts. Inventing that half is how software quietly bills wrongly on a clinic’s behalf.

Dosing bays, consult rooms for in-person psychiatry, and a placeholder for telehealth so video appointments still appear on the day. Only a dosing bay can hold a monitored session or take a walk-in.

Room cards two-up, full-page posters one-up, and foldable table tents — each with the room’s pairing code and a QR code that opens the patient view on their own phone.

Add clinicians with a role and a prescriber flag; medical students may observe but never administer. A four-digit PIN runs the floor, a password opens patient records, and an owner can reset either — one person or everybody at once. Until somebody has been given a password, their PIN opens their records instead, and Settings says who is still in that position.

Run a network of clinics with consolidated billing, and import a clinician who works across sites without re-entering them.

A sample patient you can run a whole session on, guided walkthroughs on both the desktop and the phone, and a one-tap delete of the practice data when you are done.

Under a signed Business Associate Addendum, encrypted in transit and at rest on a customer-managed key, with the database off the public internet.

On by default for every new clinic, with one-time recovery codes. Idle sessions end on their own.

Who did what, and who opened whose record. It cannot be edited or deleted from the app, and our own access to a clinic’s records is written into that clinic’s log where you can read it.

Session records — the treatment day, its vitals and its monitoring form — are hard-deleted nightly after 28 days by default, anywhere from one day to ninety. Assessments and clinical notes keep their own longer window, a year by default, because a PHQ-9 trend drawn over two weeks is one dot. Nothing lingers because nobody got around to it.

A full right-of-access export of everything held for a clinic, as one CSV per record type in a single ZIP, plus the day-to-day CSVs on the pages that produce them.

One keyboard shortcut covers PHI at the front desk, opened again by any staff member’s PIN — and it covers itself when an emergency alert is about to call whoever is sitting there away from the desk.