Opinion

I had an early attraction to newspapers. As a child growing up in Jersey City, N.J., I delivered them door-to-door. I was editor-in-chief of my high school newspaper and worked as a copy boy and sports reporter on the daily Jersey Journal. At Princeton, I joined the University Press Club, working as a string reporter for the New York Herald Tribune, Philadelphia Inquirer, and Associated Press.

I thought I might become a journalist, but medicine was too strong a calling. During my GI elective as a senior medical resident at New York Hospital, I was able to work with some of the first commercial fiberoptic instruments, which presaged my academic career in endoscopic innovation. I was editor-in-chief of Gastrointestinal Endoscopy from 1988 to 1996, and have been the consulting editor for GI Endoscopy Clinics of North America since 1997.

As the first editor-in-chief of GI & Hepatology News, I had the opportunity to combine a background in peer review with my early newspaper experience. My vision for the new publication was to provide information curated and vetted by experts, in contrast to the torrent pouring down from the Internet that was (pertinent to our specialty) “indigestible.” I put in much effort selecting stories provided by Elsevier Global Medical News, especially in constructing the front page. AGA Institute provided strong support, allowing me to choose an editorial board covering all subspecialties. I wanted to highlight the excitement of researchers balanced by expert review and commentary. The digital version added search features, and I tried to promote the “browse factor” that would also encourage advertising, critical to the success of any newspaper. At the end of my term, I felt I had laid a strong foundation, and have been delighted to see the publication continue to thrive.
 

Charles Lightdale, MD, is professor of medicine at Columbia University Medical Center in New York. He disclosed having no conflicts of interest.

I had an early attraction to newspapers. As a child growing up in Jersey City, N.J., I delivered them door-to-door. I was editor-in-chief of my high school newspaper and worked as a copy boy and sports reporter on the daily Jersey Journal. At Princeton, I joined the University Press Club, working as a string reporter for the New York Herald Tribune, Philadelphia Inquirer, and Associated Press.

I thought I might become a journalist, but medicine was too strong a calling. During my GI elective as a senior medical resident at New York Hospital, I was able to work with some of the first commercial fiberoptic instruments, which presaged my academic career in endoscopic innovation. I was editor-in-chief of Gastrointestinal Endoscopy from 1988 to 1996, and have been the consulting editor for GI Endoscopy Clinics of North America since 1997.

As the first editor-in-chief of GI & Hepatology News, I had the opportunity to combine a background in peer review with my early newspaper experience. My vision for the new publication was to provide information curated and vetted by experts, in contrast to the torrent pouring down from the Internet that was (pertinent to our specialty) “indigestible.” I put in much effort selecting stories provided by Elsevier Global Medical News, especially in constructing the front page. AGA Institute provided strong support, allowing me to choose an editorial board covering all subspecialties. I wanted to highlight the excitement of researchers balanced by expert review and commentary. The digital version added search features, and I tried to promote the “browse factor” that would also encourage advertising, critical to the success of any newspaper. At the end of my term, I felt I had laid a strong foundation, and have been delighted to see the publication continue to thrive.
 

Charles Lightdale, MD, is professor of medicine at Columbia University Medical Center in New York. He disclosed having no conflicts of interest.

I had an early attraction to newspapers. As a child growing up in Jersey City, N.J., I delivered them door-to-door. I was editor-in-chief of my high school newspaper and worked as a copy boy and sports reporter on the daily Jersey Journal. At Princeton, I joined the University Press Club, working as a string reporter for the New York Herald Tribune, Philadelphia Inquirer, and Associated Press.

I thought I might become a journalist, but medicine was too strong a calling. During my GI elective as a senior medical resident at New York Hospital, I was able to work with some of the first commercial fiberoptic instruments, which presaged my academic career in endoscopic innovation. I was editor-in-chief of Gastrointestinal Endoscopy from 1988 to 1996, and have been the consulting editor for GI Endoscopy Clinics of North America since 1997.

As the first editor-in-chief of GI & Hepatology News, I had the opportunity to combine a background in peer review with my early newspaper experience. My vision for the new publication was to provide information curated and vetted by experts, in contrast to the torrent pouring down from the Internet that was (pertinent to our specialty) “indigestible.” I put in much effort selecting stories provided by Elsevier Global Medical News, especially in constructing the front page. AGA Institute provided strong support, allowing me to choose an editorial board covering all subspecialties. I wanted to highlight the excitement of researchers balanced by expert review and commentary. The digital version added search features, and I tried to promote the “browse factor” that would also encourage advertising, critical to the success of any newspaper. At the end of my term, I felt I had laid a strong foundation, and have been delighted to see the publication continue to thrive.
 

Charles Lightdale, MD, is professor of medicine at Columbia University Medical Center in New York. He disclosed having no conflicts of interest.

The inaugural issue of GI & Hepatology News was published in January 2007, and the newspaper has gone on to become part of the fabric of the AGA. This year, we celebrate the newspaper’s 15th year with a special 15th Anniversary Series that will run from June through December 2022. We will feature reflections from GIHN’s three former editors-in-chief, Dr. Charles J. Lightdale, Dr. Colin Howden, and Dr. John Allen, on the evolution of the newspaper (and the field of GI) over the past 15 years. We also will present a series of Then and Now columns, highlighting high-impact areas of GI and hepatology covered in past GIHN issues, and reflecting on how the field has changed since that time.

In this month’s issue, we are pleased to kick off the 15th Anniversary Series with reflections by Dr. Lightdale, GIHN’s inaugural editor-in-chief, as well as a Then and Now column written by Dr. Kimberly M. Persley (GIHN associate editor and longstanding AGA member) reflecting on how the demographics of gastroenterology and of the AGA as an organization have changed over the past 15 years. I hope you will find these special contributions to be engaging and thought-provoking. Other issue highlights include a lead article describing impacts of social determinants of health in driving disparities in IBD care and offering recommendations for achieving IBD health equity, a new AGA Clinical Practice Update on dietary options for our many patients with irritable bowel syndrome, and new data on the safety of anti-TNF medications prior to surgery in patients with inflammatory bowel disease.

As summer vacation season commences, I hope you will join me in taking some well-deserved time away from work demands, spending some quality time with friends and family, and seizing the opportunity to rest and recharge.

Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor-in-Chief

The inaugural issue of GI & Hepatology News was published in January 2007, and the newspaper has gone on to become part of the fabric of the AGA. This year, we celebrate the newspaper’s 15th year with a special 15th Anniversary Series that will run from June through December 2022. We will feature reflections from GIHN’s three former editors-in-chief, Dr. Charles J. Lightdale, Dr. Colin Howden, and Dr. John Allen, on the evolution of the newspaper (and the field of GI) over the past 15 years. We also will present a series of Then and Now columns, highlighting high-impact areas of GI and hepatology covered in past GIHN issues, and reflecting on how the field has changed since that time.

In this month’s issue, we are pleased to kick off the 15th Anniversary Series with reflections by Dr. Lightdale, GIHN’s inaugural editor-in-chief, as well as a Then and Now column written by Dr. Kimberly M. Persley (GIHN associate editor and longstanding AGA member) reflecting on how the demographics of gastroenterology and of the AGA as an organization have changed over the past 15 years. I hope you will find these special contributions to be engaging and thought-provoking. Other issue highlights include a lead article describing impacts of social determinants of health in driving disparities in IBD care and offering recommendations for achieving IBD health equity, a new AGA Clinical Practice Update on dietary options for our many patients with irritable bowel syndrome, and new data on the safety of anti-TNF medications prior to surgery in patients with inflammatory bowel disease.

As summer vacation season commences, I hope you will join me in taking some well-deserved time away from work demands, spending some quality time with friends and family, and seizing the opportunity to rest and recharge.

Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor-in-Chief

The inaugural issue of GI & Hepatology News was published in January 2007, and the newspaper has gone on to become part of the fabric of the AGA. This year, we celebrate the newspaper’s 15th year with a special 15th Anniversary Series that will run from June through December 2022. We will feature reflections from GIHN’s three former editors-in-chief, Dr. Charles J. Lightdale, Dr. Colin Howden, and Dr. John Allen, on the evolution of the newspaper (and the field of GI) over the past 15 years. We also will present a series of Then and Now columns, highlighting high-impact areas of GI and hepatology covered in past GIHN issues, and reflecting on how the field has changed since that time.

In this month’s issue, we are pleased to kick off the 15th Anniversary Series with reflections by Dr. Lightdale, GIHN’s inaugural editor-in-chief, as well as a Then and Now column written by Dr. Kimberly M. Persley (GIHN associate editor and longstanding AGA member) reflecting on how the demographics of gastroenterology and of the AGA as an organization have changed over the past 15 years. I hope you will find these special contributions to be engaging and thought-provoking. Other issue highlights include a lead article describing impacts of social determinants of health in driving disparities in IBD care and offering recommendations for achieving IBD health equity, a new AGA Clinical Practice Update on dietary options for our many patients with irritable bowel syndrome, and new data on the safety of anti-TNF medications prior to surgery in patients with inflammatory bowel disease.

As summer vacation season commences, I hope you will join me in taking some well-deserved time away from work demands, spending some quality time with friends and family, and seizing the opportunity to rest and recharge.

Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor-in-Chief

Mrs. Stevens has migraines. Fortunately, they’re well controlled on nortriptyline, and she’s never had side effects from it. She’s taken it for more than 20 years now.

In that time she and I have had a strange, slow-motion, waltz.

In spite of the medicine helping her, she stops it on her own roughly twice a year, never calling my office in advance. Sometimes it’s to see if the headaches come back (they always do). Other times it’s because of something she read online, or a friend told her, or she overheard in the grocery checkout line.

Whatever the reason, her migraines always come back within a week, and then she calls my office for an urgent appointment.

I’ve never really understood this, as I know her history and am happy to just tell her to restart the medication and call it in. But, for whatever reason, the return of her migraines is something that she wants to discuss with me in person. Since it’s usually a pretty brief visit, my secretary puts her on the schedule and I get paid to tell her what could have been handled by phone. I’m not complaining. I have to make a living, too.

But still, it makes me wonder. She can’t be the only patient out there who does this. Multiply that by the number of doctors, the cost of visits, the time she takes off from work to come in ... it adds up.

The consequences of noncompliance in migraineurs certainly aren’t as bad – or as expensive – as those for seizure patients, but they aren’t minor either.

So why does this happen?

Believe me, for the past 20 years I’ve spent these occasional visits reminding Mrs. Stevens about the importance of sticking with her medication and calling my office if she has questions. She agrees to, but when she’s thinking about stopping nortriptyline ... she still does it and only tells me after the fact.

I can’t change human nature, or at least not hers. And when multiplied by many like her, it creates entirely unnecessary costs on our health care system. I wish there were a way to stop it.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Mrs. Stevens has migraines. Fortunately, they’re well controlled on nortriptyline, and she’s never had side effects from it. She’s taken it for more than 20 years now.

In that time she and I have had a strange, slow-motion, waltz.

In spite of the medicine helping her, she stops it on her own roughly twice a year, never calling my office in advance. Sometimes it’s to see if the headaches come back (they always do). Other times it’s because of something she read online, or a friend told her, or she overheard in the grocery checkout line.

Whatever the reason, her migraines always come back within a week, and then she calls my office for an urgent appointment.

I’ve never really understood this, as I know her history and am happy to just tell her to restart the medication and call it in. But, for whatever reason, the return of her migraines is something that she wants to discuss with me in person. Since it’s usually a pretty brief visit, my secretary puts her on the schedule and I get paid to tell her what could have been handled by phone. I’m not complaining. I have to make a living, too.

But still, it makes me wonder. She can’t be the only patient out there who does this. Multiply that by the number of doctors, the cost of visits, the time she takes off from work to come in ... it adds up.

The consequences of noncompliance in migraineurs certainly aren’t as bad – or as expensive – as those for seizure patients, but they aren’t minor either.

So why does this happen?

Believe me, for the past 20 years I’ve spent these occasional visits reminding Mrs. Stevens about the importance of sticking with her medication and calling my office if she has questions. She agrees to, but when she’s thinking about stopping nortriptyline ... she still does it and only tells me after the fact.

I can’t change human nature, or at least not hers. And when multiplied by many like her, it creates entirely unnecessary costs on our health care system. I wish there were a way to stop it.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Mrs. Stevens has migraines. Fortunately, they’re well controlled on nortriptyline, and she’s never had side effects from it. She’s taken it for more than 20 years now.

In that time she and I have had a strange, slow-motion, waltz.

In spite of the medicine helping her, she stops it on her own roughly twice a year, never calling my office in advance. Sometimes it’s to see if the headaches come back (they always do). Other times it’s because of something she read online, or a friend told her, or she overheard in the grocery checkout line.

Whatever the reason, her migraines always come back within a week, and then she calls my office for an urgent appointment.

I’ve never really understood this, as I know her history and am happy to just tell her to restart the medication and call it in. But, for whatever reason, the return of her migraines is something that she wants to discuss with me in person. Since it’s usually a pretty brief visit, my secretary puts her on the schedule and I get paid to tell her what could have been handled by phone. I’m not complaining. I have to make a living, too.

But still, it makes me wonder. She can’t be the only patient out there who does this. Multiply that by the number of doctors, the cost of visits, the time she takes off from work to come in ... it adds up.

The consequences of noncompliance in migraineurs certainly aren’t as bad – or as expensive – as those for seizure patients, but they aren’t minor either.

So why does this happen?

Believe me, for the past 20 years I’ve spent these occasional visits reminding Mrs. Stevens about the importance of sticking with her medication and calling my office if she has questions. She agrees to, but when she’s thinking about stopping nortriptyline ... she still does it and only tells me after the fact.

I can’t change human nature, or at least not hers. And when multiplied by many like her, it creates entirely unnecessary costs on our health care system. I wish there were a way to stop it.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

“It must be mental illness. My mind cannot possibly conceive of an alternative. A rational healthy mind cannot be capable of this, Doc.”

These were the opening words of one of many discussions that I had with patients in the wake of yet another gut-wrenching tragedy where we saw innocent children and their teachers murdered in school.

Courtesy of Mena Mirhom

Do any mass shooters have untreated mental illness?

There are data to suggest that of 14,785 murders studied in a database to track death by guns, 1,315 mass shootings were identified. Of these mass shootings, 11% of the shooters had serious mental illness. Could we have diagnosed those cases earlier? Intervened sooner? Offered more effective treatment? Certainly. Would that have explain away the rest of the cases? Unfortunately, no.

What is it, then?

The scary answer is that the people who are capable of doing this are not so far away. They are not the folks that we would image locking up in a “psych ward” and throwing away the key. They are, rather, people who are lonely, neglected, rejected, bullied, and broken down by life. Anger, hatred, racism, and evil may be ailments of the soul, but they are not mental illnesses. The carnage they produce is just as tangible. As a psychiatrist, I must admit to you that I do not have a good medication to treat these manifestations of the human condition.

What do we do as a society?

Gun reform is the first obvious and essential answer, without which little else is truly as impactful. We must advocate for it and fight tirelessly.

But at the time you will read this article, your disgruntled coworker will be able to walk into a local store in a moment of despair, anguish, and hopelessness and purchase a semiautomatic weapon of war.

What if we were to start seeing, as a society, that our lives are interwoven? What if we saw that our health is truly interdependent? The COVID-19 pandemic shattered many things in our lives, but one element in particular is our radical individualism. We saw that the choices you make certainly affect me and vice versa. We saw that public health is just that – a public matter, not a private one. We saw that there are some areas of our lives that force us to come together for our own survival.

Perhaps politicians will not save us here. Perhaps kindness will. Empathy can be as potent as legislation, and compassion as impactful as a Twitter hashtag. We each know a lonely coworker, an isolated neighbor, a bullied student, or someone beaten down by life.

What if some of the prevention is in fact in our hands? Together.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” – Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Mena Mirhom, MD, is an assistant professor of psychiatry at Columbia University and teaches writing to public psychiatry fellows. He is a board-certified psychiatrist and a consultant for the National Basketball Players Association, treating NBA players and staff.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

“It must be mental illness. My mind cannot possibly conceive of an alternative. A rational healthy mind cannot be capable of this, Doc.”

These were the opening words of one of many discussions that I had with patients in the wake of yet another gut-wrenching tragedy where we saw innocent children and their teachers murdered in school.

Courtesy of Mena Mirhom

Do any mass shooters have untreated mental illness?

There are data to suggest that of 14,785 murders studied in a database to track death by guns, 1,315 mass shootings were identified. Of these mass shootings, 11% of the shooters had serious mental illness. Could we have diagnosed those cases earlier? Intervened sooner? Offered more effective treatment? Certainly. Would that have explain away the rest of the cases? Unfortunately, no.

What is it, then?

The scary answer is that the people who are capable of doing this are not so far away. They are not the folks that we would image locking up in a “psych ward” and throwing away the key. They are, rather, people who are lonely, neglected, rejected, bullied, and broken down by life. Anger, hatred, racism, and evil may be ailments of the soul, but they are not mental illnesses. The carnage they produce is just as tangible. As a psychiatrist, I must admit to you that I do not have a good medication to treat these manifestations of the human condition.

What do we do as a society?

Gun reform is the first obvious and essential answer, without which little else is truly as impactful. We must advocate for it and fight tirelessly.

But at the time you will read this article, your disgruntled coworker will be able to walk into a local store in a moment of despair, anguish, and hopelessness and purchase a semiautomatic weapon of war.

What if we were to start seeing, as a society, that our lives are interwoven? What if we saw that our health is truly interdependent? The COVID-19 pandemic shattered many things in our lives, but one element in particular is our radical individualism. We saw that the choices you make certainly affect me and vice versa. We saw that public health is just that – a public matter, not a private one. We saw that there are some areas of our lives that force us to come together for our own survival.

Perhaps politicians will not save us here. Perhaps kindness will. Empathy can be as potent as legislation, and compassion as impactful as a Twitter hashtag. We each know a lonely coworker, an isolated neighbor, a bullied student, or someone beaten down by life.

What if some of the prevention is in fact in our hands? Together.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” – Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Mena Mirhom, MD, is an assistant professor of psychiatry at Columbia University and teaches writing to public psychiatry fellows. He is a board-certified psychiatrist and a consultant for the National Basketball Players Association, treating NBA players and staff.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

“It must be mental illness. My mind cannot possibly conceive of an alternative. A rational healthy mind cannot be capable of this, Doc.”

These were the opening words of one of many discussions that I had with patients in the wake of yet another gut-wrenching tragedy where we saw innocent children and their teachers murdered in school.

Courtesy of Mena Mirhom

Do any mass shooters have untreated mental illness?

There are data to suggest that of 14,785 murders studied in a database to track death by guns, 1,315 mass shootings were identified. Of these mass shootings, 11% of the shooters had serious mental illness. Could we have diagnosed those cases earlier? Intervened sooner? Offered more effective treatment? Certainly. Would that have explain away the rest of the cases? Unfortunately, no.

What is it, then?

The scary answer is that the people who are capable of doing this are not so far away. They are not the folks that we would image locking up in a “psych ward” and throwing away the key. They are, rather, people who are lonely, neglected, rejected, bullied, and broken down by life. Anger, hatred, racism, and evil may be ailments of the soul, but they are not mental illnesses. The carnage they produce is just as tangible. As a psychiatrist, I must admit to you that I do not have a good medication to treat these manifestations of the human condition.

What do we do as a society?

Gun reform is the first obvious and essential answer, without which little else is truly as impactful. We must advocate for it and fight tirelessly.

But at the time you will read this article, your disgruntled coworker will be able to walk into a local store in a moment of despair, anguish, and hopelessness and purchase a semiautomatic weapon of war.

What if we were to start seeing, as a society, that our lives are interwoven? What if we saw that our health is truly interdependent? The COVID-19 pandemic shattered many things in our lives, but one element in particular is our radical individualism. We saw that the choices you make certainly affect me and vice versa. We saw that public health is just that – a public matter, not a private one. We saw that there are some areas of our lives that force us to come together for our own survival.

Perhaps politicians will not save us here. Perhaps kindness will. Empathy can be as potent as legislation, and compassion as impactful as a Twitter hashtag. We each know a lonely coworker, an isolated neighbor, a bullied student, or someone beaten down by life.

What if some of the prevention is in fact in our hands? Together.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” – Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Mena Mirhom, MD, is an assistant professor of psychiatry at Columbia University and teaches writing to public psychiatry fellows. He is a board-certified psychiatrist and a consultant for the National Basketball Players Association, treating NBA players and staff.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

A 75-year-old male is seen in the emergency department for shortness of breath. D-dimer is very high, and a CT scan chest reveals bilateral pulmonary emboli without right heart strain. He is admitted and started on enoxaparin 1 mg/kg subcutaneously every 12 hours.

By the next morning, he is feeling better and wants to discuss discharge to home and follow-up plans.

Two months ago he presented with abdominal pain and evaluation revealed he had a pancreatic head mass with liver metastases. A liver biopsy was positive for adenocarcinoma consistent with pancreas primary. CA 19-9 level was 1,200 U/mL and he was started on FOLFIRINOX chemotherapy – which he has tolerated well thus far. CA 19-9 and follow-up CT scan show early response to chemotherapy.

Of course, this case raises many questions. Given how successful some directed biomarker-positive therapies are now, you would want to know his microsatellite instability (MSI)/progressive death–ligand 1 (PD-L1) and BRCA mutation status. A high PD-L1 positivity or MSI deficiency would suggest immunoantibody therapy and a BRCA mutation might suggest a poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor could play a role.

However, let’s use this case to discuss his venous thromboembolism (VTE) .

Studies show that metastatic cancer patients on chemotherapy might experience a VTE episode of deep vein thrombosis (DVT) or pulmonary embolism (PE) or both as high as 20% of the time during their cancer course and therapy. This patient would be among those who experience the highest incidence of VTE because of the liver metastasis from the pancreatic adenocarcinoma.

So, what to do? Standard treatment of his pulmonary emboli would include either enoxaparin therapeutic dosing 1 mg/kg subcutaneously q12H or 1.5 mg/kg q24H for 3 months. At 3 months, repeat a CT chest scan to show resolution of pulmonary emboli and/or DVT or both, and repeat D-dimer, which should now be well under 1.

But then, there is a second decision to make: Can you stop anticoagulation if his clots have resolved? The answer is yes. If the clots were provoked and the provoking feature is gone you can stop anticoagulation. Patients with pregnancy, on a birth control pill, or on a long trip where immobilization occurred for a extended time (such as driving or flying) can have anticoagulation stopped because the provoking feature is gone, but this is not true in this case. This patient’s pancreas cancer and chemotherapy are ongoing and he will be at increased risk to clot once again if anticoagulation is stopped.

Should this patient have a hypercoagulable workup which might include protein C, protein S, and antithrombin levels? Remember this is quite rare and patients with these deficiencies usually present in their teens or 20s with increased clotting issues. The more common hypercoagulable workup would include checking for factor V Leiden and prothrombin G20210A mutations, as well as acquired antiphospholipid antibodies such as beta₂ glycoprotein I, anticardiolipin, and the lupus inhibitor. However, in this 75-year-old cancer patient, these are not necessary or even relevant since his VTE was clearly provoked by metastatic cancer on chemotherapy.

Unfortunately, with metastatic active cancer, anticoagulation would need to be continued at full or possibly half therapeutic dose. Of course, enoxaparin injections can get tiresome for the patient and data suggest the same result can be achieved either with initial management or by continuing anticoagulation management using either rivaroxaban or apixaban.

Wouldn’t it have been better if this patient had never experienced VTE in the first place? Is that possible?

Yes, data suggest that it is. Higher-risk patients like this one could benefit from prophylactic anticoagulation. The Khorana predictive model gives us a simple clinical means to evaluate this and decide who might be at highest VTE risk and who could benefit from low-dose preventive anticoagulation.

In summary, cancer patients undergoing treatment for metastatic disease are at increased risk for symptomatic VTE. Once diagnosed, therapy is usually very effective, but may need to be prolonged as long as the cancer is still active or else, the VTE could recur. Preventive therapy for high-risk patients would be reasonable.

Dr. Henry is a medical oncologist with the Abramson Cancer Center at the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia.

A 75-year-old male is seen in the emergency department for shortness of breath. D-dimer is very high, and a CT scan chest reveals bilateral pulmonary emboli without right heart strain. He is admitted and started on enoxaparin 1 mg/kg subcutaneously every 12 hours.

By the next morning, he is feeling better and wants to discuss discharge to home and follow-up plans.

Two months ago he presented with abdominal pain and evaluation revealed he had a pancreatic head mass with liver metastases. A liver biopsy was positive for adenocarcinoma consistent with pancreas primary. CA 19-9 level was 1,200 U/mL and he was started on FOLFIRINOX chemotherapy – which he has tolerated well thus far. CA 19-9 and follow-up CT scan show early response to chemotherapy.

Of course, this case raises many questions. Given how successful some directed biomarker-positive therapies are now, you would want to know his microsatellite instability (MSI)/progressive death–ligand 1 (PD-L1) and BRCA mutation status. A high PD-L1 positivity or MSI deficiency would suggest immunoantibody therapy and a BRCA mutation might suggest a poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor could play a role.

However, let’s use this case to discuss his venous thromboembolism (VTE) .

Studies show that metastatic cancer patients on chemotherapy might experience a VTE episode of deep vein thrombosis (DVT) or pulmonary embolism (PE) or both as high as 20% of the time during their cancer course and therapy. This patient would be among those who experience the highest incidence of VTE because of the liver metastasis from the pancreatic adenocarcinoma.

So, what to do? Standard treatment of his pulmonary emboli would include either enoxaparin therapeutic dosing 1 mg/kg subcutaneously q12H or 1.5 mg/kg q24H for 3 months. At 3 months, repeat a CT chest scan to show resolution of pulmonary emboli and/or DVT or both, and repeat D-dimer, which should now be well under 1.

But then, there is a second decision to make: Can you stop anticoagulation if his clots have resolved? The answer is yes. If the clots were provoked and the provoking feature is gone you can stop anticoagulation. Patients with pregnancy, on a birth control pill, or on a long trip where immobilization occurred for a extended time (such as driving or flying) can have anticoagulation stopped because the provoking feature is gone, but this is not true in this case. This patient’s pancreas cancer and chemotherapy are ongoing and he will be at increased risk to clot once again if anticoagulation is stopped.

Should this patient have a hypercoagulable workup which might include protein C, protein S, and antithrombin levels? Remember this is quite rare and patients with these deficiencies usually present in their teens or 20s with increased clotting issues. The more common hypercoagulable workup would include checking for factor V Leiden and prothrombin G20210A mutations, as well as acquired antiphospholipid antibodies such as beta₂ glycoprotein I, anticardiolipin, and the lupus inhibitor. However, in this 75-year-old cancer patient, these are not necessary or even relevant since his VTE was clearly provoked by metastatic cancer on chemotherapy.

Unfortunately, with metastatic active cancer, anticoagulation would need to be continued at full or possibly half therapeutic dose. Of course, enoxaparin injections can get tiresome for the patient and data suggest the same result can be achieved either with initial management or by continuing anticoagulation management using either rivaroxaban or apixaban.

Wouldn’t it have been better if this patient had never experienced VTE in the first place? Is that possible?

Yes, data suggest that it is. Higher-risk patients like this one could benefit from prophylactic anticoagulation. The Khorana predictive model gives us a simple clinical means to evaluate this and decide who might be at highest VTE risk and who could benefit from low-dose preventive anticoagulation.

In summary, cancer patients undergoing treatment for metastatic disease are at increased risk for symptomatic VTE. Once diagnosed, therapy is usually very effective, but may need to be prolonged as long as the cancer is still active or else, the VTE could recur. Preventive therapy for high-risk patients would be reasonable.

Dr. Henry is a medical oncologist with the Abramson Cancer Center at the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia.

A 75-year-old male is seen in the emergency department for shortness of breath. D-dimer is very high, and a CT scan chest reveals bilateral pulmonary emboli without right heart strain. He is admitted and started on enoxaparin 1 mg/kg subcutaneously every 12 hours.

By the next morning, he is feeling better and wants to discuss discharge to home and follow-up plans.

Two months ago he presented with abdominal pain and evaluation revealed he had a pancreatic head mass with liver metastases. A liver biopsy was positive for adenocarcinoma consistent with pancreas primary. CA 19-9 level was 1,200 U/mL and he was started on FOLFIRINOX chemotherapy – which he has tolerated well thus far. CA 19-9 and follow-up CT scan show early response to chemotherapy.

Of course, this case raises many questions. Given how successful some directed biomarker-positive therapies are now, you would want to know his microsatellite instability (MSI)/progressive death–ligand 1 (PD-L1) and BRCA mutation status. A high PD-L1 positivity or MSI deficiency would suggest immunoantibody therapy and a BRCA mutation might suggest a poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor could play a role.

However, let’s use this case to discuss his venous thromboembolism (VTE) .

Studies show that metastatic cancer patients on chemotherapy might experience a VTE episode of deep vein thrombosis (DVT) or pulmonary embolism (PE) or both as high as 20% of the time during their cancer course and therapy. This patient would be among those who experience the highest incidence of VTE because of the liver metastasis from the pancreatic adenocarcinoma.

So, what to do? Standard treatment of his pulmonary emboli would include either enoxaparin therapeutic dosing 1 mg/kg subcutaneously q12H or 1.5 mg/kg q24H for 3 months. At 3 months, repeat a CT chest scan to show resolution of pulmonary emboli and/or DVT or both, and repeat D-dimer, which should now be well under 1.

But then, there is a second decision to make: Can you stop anticoagulation if his clots have resolved? The answer is yes. If the clots were provoked and the provoking feature is gone you can stop anticoagulation. Patients with pregnancy, on a birth control pill, or on a long trip where immobilization occurred for a extended time (such as driving or flying) can have anticoagulation stopped because the provoking feature is gone, but this is not true in this case. This patient’s pancreas cancer and chemotherapy are ongoing and he will be at increased risk to clot once again if anticoagulation is stopped.

Should this patient have a hypercoagulable workup which might include protein C, protein S, and antithrombin levels? Remember this is quite rare and patients with these deficiencies usually present in their teens or 20s with increased clotting issues. The more common hypercoagulable workup would include checking for factor V Leiden and prothrombin G20210A mutations, as well as acquired antiphospholipid antibodies such as beta₂ glycoprotein I, anticardiolipin, and the lupus inhibitor. However, in this 75-year-old cancer patient, these are not necessary or even relevant since his VTE was clearly provoked by metastatic cancer on chemotherapy.

Unfortunately, with metastatic active cancer, anticoagulation would need to be continued at full or possibly half therapeutic dose. Of course, enoxaparin injections can get tiresome for the patient and data suggest the same result can be achieved either with initial management or by continuing anticoagulation management using either rivaroxaban or apixaban.

Wouldn’t it have been better if this patient had never experienced VTE in the first place? Is that possible?

Yes, data suggest that it is. Higher-risk patients like this one could benefit from prophylactic anticoagulation. The Khorana predictive model gives us a simple clinical means to evaluate this and decide who might be at highest VTE risk and who could benefit from low-dose preventive anticoagulation.

In summary, cancer patients undergoing treatment for metastatic disease are at increased risk for symptomatic VTE. Once diagnosed, therapy is usually very effective, but may need to be prolonged as long as the cancer is still active or else, the VTE could recur. Preventive therapy for high-risk patients would be reasonable.

Dr. Henry is a medical oncologist with the Abramson Cancer Center at the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia.

As Usha Lee McFarling has pointed out, the orthopedic surgeon specialty suffers from a gross underrepresentation of minorities and women, more severe than in other medical specialties. There are various reasons for this and a variety of possible paths toward improvement, but the “critical first step,” as American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons former president Kristy Weber, MD, told Ms. McFarling, “is changing the culture.”

“Changing the culture” is a large, diffuse aspiration. The AAOS has taken a number of steps toward that end, but they have not had much success. The two of us have identified others, which may help to move the needle. But any approach to resolving this stubbornly resistant racial and gender imbalance requires, first of all, an understanding of the psychological and neurobiological roots that underlie it.

Viewed from this perspective, the cultural barriers to inclusivity are similar to those that perpetuate inequitable health care. Both are driven by ingroup/outgroup prejudices that operate below the level of consciousness and are largely unseen.In our book Seeing Patients, we examined health disparities in six “non-mainstream” groups: African Americans, Hispanic Americans, women, gays and lesbians, and the elderly. We based our work initially on the Institute of Medicine’s breakthrough 2003 compendium, Unequal Treatment, which brought together a large number of studies on health care inequities that had appeared in a variety of journals over many years, but had never generated the critical mass necessary to create a call for action or even attract serious attention.

Unequal Treatment allowed us to understand that each medical specialty, right down the line – orthopedics, cardiology, gynecology, oncology, psychiatry, to name just a few – has its own grim history of discrimination. Our sense of the medical community in the 21st century led us away from the idea that overt bias is a significant cause of these still ongoing inequities. Most physicians, we believed, consider themselves to be, and strive to be, humane, compassionate, and egalitarian caregivers. The answer then seemed to be in subconscious rather than conscious bias.

As we reviewed the literature and strove to understand the primary drivers of the discrimination that systematically affects medical care, our attention was drawn to two critical and complementary mechanisms hard-wired into our systems for parsing and responding to our environment. The first was “stereotyping,” so often used as a pejorative, but which is, in fact, a primary and essential mental function.

“We all make stereotypic judgments,” says Rice University emeritus professor of psychology David Schneider in The Psychology of Stereotyping (page 419). “It happens with race. It happens with disability. It happens ... with gender, age, and physical appearance. ... That’s just the way it is: Our mental apparatus was designed to facilitate quick decisions based on category membership.”

Differentiation – social stereotyping in our case – is a given, then; it’s innate. The content of stereotyping – of Blacks, gays, women, and others – is not innate, but it is deeply ingrained by living in a given milieu and just as impossible to ignore.

The second mechanism we focused on was the neurobiology that underlies the impact of hidden emotion on rational thought. In his seminal book Descartes’ Error, neuroscientist Antonio Damasio spells out how the mind with its cognitive functions has evolved from the body and its emotional systems, and how they function together through neuro-networks that connect the mechanisms of feeling with the brain’s decision-making centers.

“Feelings,” Dr. Damasio tells us, “come first in [brain] development and retain a primacy that pervades our mental life.” The limbic system, the part of the brain that controls our emotional responses, constitutes a “frame of reference and has “a say on how the rest of the brain and cognition go about their business. [Its] influence is immense.” (Page 185)

Dr. Damasio was not focusing on medical decisions, but his insights, we felt, had great relevance for the question of unconscious bias in health care. Various studies by physicians and medical scientists do speak directly to the issue of how affective bias influences diagnosis and treatment. Pat Croskerry, director of Dalhousie University’s Clinical Research Center, argues that “cognitive and affective biases are known to compromise the decision-making” and that commonly “these are largely unconscious mistakes.”

Harvard’s Jerome Groopman, in his book How Doctors Think (page 40), writes that most incorrect diagnoses and treatments are “mistakes in thinking. And part of what causes these cognitive errors is our inner feelings, feelings we ... often don’t even recognize.” Cognition and emotion, Dr. Groopman insists, are inseparable. The emotional landscape sets the ground for decision-making.

The underlying mechanisms that enable health care prejudice are the same that enable interpersonal prejudice generally. Unseen and largely unrecognized, they affect ingroup/outgroup relations in every field of interaction, from bias in policing, to bias in housing, to bias in employment – “powerful and universal,” in Dr. Croskerry’s words, “affecting all walks of life.”

Decision-making about acceptance into orthopedic residencies is no exception. As Prof. Schneider says, “That’s just the way it is.”

What conclusions can be drawn from understanding the deep origins of subconscious bias that might improve the inclusion of minorities and women in orthopedics? A growing interest in “debiasing” in both the medical and cognitive psychology literature has identified or suggested methods of counteracting the prejudices we all harbor. (See Bhatti’s “Cognitive Bias in Clinical Practice,” Wilson and Brekke’s “Mental Contamination and Mental Correction: Unwanted Influences on Judgments and Evaluations,” and De Neys and colleagues’ “Feeling We’re Biased: Autonomic Arousal and Reasoning Conflict.”)

Many of these debiasing techniques have to do with education regarding cognitive functions, from training in decision-making processes to “time outs,” to checklists à la Atul Gawande, to other methods of metacognition.

But the two key prerequisites to all of these approaches are more or less self-evident. “For biases to be successfully addressed,” says Dr. Croskerry, “there needs to be ... awareness as well as the motivation for change.”

In a previous article we discussed the need to heighten awareness over and above current levels, and we have suggested steps toward that end. But awareness is only the first prerequisite; the second is motivation, and the depth of motivation necessary to create change in the business of orthopedic inclusion is, for all the AAOS’s efforts, simply inadequate – the result being that the culture does not change, or it changes so glacially as to be hardly noticeable.

Ms. McFarling noted in her interviews with orthopedic leaders, clinicians, residents, and medical students simmering feelings of frustration and perplexity. We would suggest that the frustration is because of the fact that, while there is a general awareness of the problem, there has simply not been the sufficiently determined motivation to fix it. “It is not neglected truths,” as religious scholar Gregory Dix put it, “but those that are at once fully acknowledged and frustrated of their proper expression, which take the most drastic psychological revenge.”

All of this leads back to the original problem posed by Prof. Weber, the former AAOS president: changing the orthopedic culture. The question of how cultures undergo transformation has been addressed by scholars across widely diverse fields (see, for example, Thomas Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Francis Fukuyama›s The End of History and the Last Man, and many others). But we are addressing here a narrow, well-defined slice of that problem. And our own explorations have led to the conclusion that the answer here lies in the issue of motivation – namely, how can a community that is aware of a problem be sufficiently motivated to fix it?

In Seeing Patients we argued that doctoring is the paradigmatic humanitarian profession, that physicians’ whole business is to care for and alleviate the suffering of other human beings. In this sense, doctors are the carriers of the humane ideal, which is congruent also with the noblest egalitarian principles of our life as a nation. We argued also that humanitarian medicine with its egalitarian mandate is a win-win-win proposition. The patient wins, the doctor wins, the society wins.

We think arguments like these should provide plenty of motivation for change. But in reality they are not sufficient. Our arguments and those of others along the same lines (see Louis Sullivan’s Breaking Ground and David McBride’s Caring for Equality) are directed for the most part at the better angels of our nature. They appeal to personal and political values: compassion, fairness, equality – powerful yet set against custom, habituation, and the daily pressures of practice, such arguments can and do easily come up short.

But when looked at straight on, with unblinking eyes, health care disparities should provoke other more forceful emotions: anger, to begin with; chagrin, consternation. Women receive fewer heart catheterizations and reperfusions than men. (See R. Di Cecco and colleagues’ “Is There a Clinically Significant Gender Bias in Post-Myocardial Infarction Pharmacological Management in the Older Population of a Primary Care Practice?” and Jneid and coworkers’ “Sex Difference in Medical Care and Early Death after Acute Myocardial Infarction.”) Because of this, more women die.

Blacks and Hispanics receive fewer analgesics for the excruciating pain of broken bones, and they are amputated more frequently than whites for identical peripheral arterial disease. (See Knox and colleagues’ “Ethnicity as a Risk Factor for Inadequate Emergency Department Analgesia,” Bonham’s “Race, Ethnicity and Pain Treatments: Striving to Understand the Causes and Solutions to the Disparities in Pain Treatments,” and Feinglass and coworkers’ “Racial Differences in Primary and Repeat Lower Extremity Amputation: Results From a Multihospital Study.”) They suffer accordingly.

The statistical accounting of these disparities masks the faces of pain and desperation – of disabilities, often of mortality. These are hard visceral truths that derive in part from the underrepresentation of minorities in various specialties, most pronounced in orthopedics. These are the truths that, when actually absorbed rather than just registered, have the capacity to transform awareness into motivation and in so doing can begin reshaping a culture that restricts minorities and women and makes orthopedics, as Ms. McFarling calls it, “the whitest specialty.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

As Usha Lee McFarling has pointed out, the orthopedic surgeon specialty suffers from a gross underrepresentation of minorities and women, more severe than in other medical specialties. There are various reasons for this and a variety of possible paths toward improvement, but the “critical first step,” as American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons former president Kristy Weber, MD, told Ms. McFarling, “is changing the culture.”

“Changing the culture” is a large, diffuse aspiration. The AAOS has taken a number of steps toward that end, but they have not had much success. The two of us have identified others, which may help to move the needle. But any approach to resolving this stubbornly resistant racial and gender imbalance requires, first of all, an understanding of the psychological and neurobiological roots that underlie it.

Viewed from this perspective, the cultural barriers to inclusivity are similar to those that perpetuate inequitable health care. Both are driven by ingroup/outgroup prejudices that operate below the level of consciousness and are largely unseen.In our book Seeing Patients, we examined health disparities in six “non-mainstream” groups: African Americans, Hispanic Americans, women, gays and lesbians, and the elderly. We based our work initially on the Institute of Medicine’s breakthrough 2003 compendium, Unequal Treatment, which brought together a large number of studies on health care inequities that had appeared in a variety of journals over many years, but had never generated the critical mass necessary to create a call for action or even attract serious attention.

Unequal Treatment allowed us to understand that each medical specialty, right down the line – orthopedics, cardiology, gynecology, oncology, psychiatry, to name just a few – has its own grim history of discrimination. Our sense of the medical community in the 21st century led us away from the idea that overt bias is a significant cause of these still ongoing inequities. Most physicians, we believed, consider themselves to be, and strive to be, humane, compassionate, and egalitarian caregivers. The answer then seemed to be in subconscious rather than conscious bias.

As we reviewed the literature and strove to understand the primary drivers of the discrimination that systematically affects medical care, our attention was drawn to two critical and complementary mechanisms hard-wired into our systems for parsing and responding to our environment. The first was “stereotyping,” so often used as a pejorative, but which is, in fact, a primary and essential mental function.

“We all make stereotypic judgments,” says Rice University emeritus professor of psychology David Schneider in The Psychology of Stereotyping (page 419). “It happens with race. It happens with disability. It happens ... with gender, age, and physical appearance. ... That’s just the way it is: Our mental apparatus was designed to facilitate quick decisions based on category membership.”

Differentiation – social stereotyping in our case – is a given, then; it’s innate. The content of stereotyping – of Blacks, gays, women, and others – is not innate, but it is deeply ingrained by living in a given milieu and just as impossible to ignore.

The second mechanism we focused on was the neurobiology that underlies the impact of hidden emotion on rational thought. In his seminal book Descartes’ Error, neuroscientist Antonio Damasio spells out how the mind with its cognitive functions has evolved from the body and its emotional systems, and how they function together through neuro-networks that connect the mechanisms of feeling with the brain’s decision-making centers.

“Feelings,” Dr. Damasio tells us, “come first in [brain] development and retain a primacy that pervades our mental life.” The limbic system, the part of the brain that controls our emotional responses, constitutes a “frame of reference and has “a say on how the rest of the brain and cognition go about their business. [Its] influence is immense.” (Page 185)

Dr. Damasio was not focusing on medical decisions, but his insights, we felt, had great relevance for the question of unconscious bias in health care. Various studies by physicians and medical scientists do speak directly to the issue of how affective bias influences diagnosis and treatment. Pat Croskerry, director of Dalhousie University’s Clinical Research Center, argues that “cognitive and affective biases are known to compromise the decision-making” and that commonly “these are largely unconscious mistakes.”

Harvard’s Jerome Groopman, in his book How Doctors Think (page 40), writes that most incorrect diagnoses and treatments are “mistakes in thinking. And part of what causes these cognitive errors is our inner feelings, feelings we ... often don’t even recognize.” Cognition and emotion, Dr. Groopman insists, are inseparable. The emotional landscape sets the ground for decision-making.

The underlying mechanisms that enable health care prejudice are the same that enable interpersonal prejudice generally. Unseen and largely unrecognized, they affect ingroup/outgroup relations in every field of interaction, from bias in policing, to bias in housing, to bias in employment – “powerful and universal,” in Dr. Croskerry’s words, “affecting all walks of life.”

Decision-making about acceptance into orthopedic residencies is no exception. As Prof. Schneider says, “That’s just the way it is.”

What conclusions can be drawn from understanding the deep origins of subconscious bias that might improve the inclusion of minorities and women in orthopedics? A growing interest in “debiasing” in both the medical and cognitive psychology literature has identified or suggested methods of counteracting the prejudices we all harbor. (See Bhatti’s “Cognitive Bias in Clinical Practice,” Wilson and Brekke’s “Mental Contamination and Mental Correction: Unwanted Influences on Judgments and Evaluations,” and De Neys and colleagues’ “Feeling We’re Biased: Autonomic Arousal and Reasoning Conflict.”)

Many of these debiasing techniques have to do with education regarding cognitive functions, from training in decision-making processes to “time outs,” to checklists à la Atul Gawande, to other methods of metacognition.

But the two key prerequisites to all of these approaches are more or less self-evident. “For biases to be successfully addressed,” says Dr. Croskerry, “there needs to be ... awareness as well as the motivation for change.”

In a previous article we discussed the need to heighten awareness over and above current levels, and we have suggested steps toward that end. But awareness is only the first prerequisite; the second is motivation, and the depth of motivation necessary to create change in the business of orthopedic inclusion is, for all the AAOS’s efforts, simply inadequate – the result being that the culture does not change, or it changes so glacially as to be hardly noticeable.

Ms. McFarling noted in her interviews with orthopedic leaders, clinicians, residents, and medical students simmering feelings of frustration and perplexity. We would suggest that the frustration is because of the fact that, while there is a general awareness of the problem, there has simply not been the sufficiently determined motivation to fix it. “It is not neglected truths,” as religious scholar Gregory Dix put it, “but those that are at once fully acknowledged and frustrated of their proper expression, which take the most drastic psychological revenge.”

All of this leads back to the original problem posed by Prof. Weber, the former AAOS president: changing the orthopedic culture. The question of how cultures undergo transformation has been addressed by scholars across widely diverse fields (see, for example, Thomas Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Francis Fukuyama›s The End of History and the Last Man, and many others). But we are addressing here a narrow, well-defined slice of that problem. And our own explorations have led to the conclusion that the answer here lies in the issue of motivation – namely, how can a community that is aware of a problem be sufficiently motivated to fix it?

In Seeing Patients we argued that doctoring is the paradigmatic humanitarian profession, that physicians’ whole business is to care for and alleviate the suffering of other human beings. In this sense, doctors are the carriers of the humane ideal, which is congruent also with the noblest egalitarian principles of our life as a nation. We argued also that humanitarian medicine with its egalitarian mandate is a win-win-win proposition. The patient wins, the doctor wins, the society wins.

We think arguments like these should provide plenty of motivation for change. But in reality they are not sufficient. Our arguments and those of others along the same lines (see Louis Sullivan’s Breaking Ground and David McBride’s Caring for Equality) are directed for the most part at the better angels of our nature. They appeal to personal and political values: compassion, fairness, equality – powerful yet set against custom, habituation, and the daily pressures of practice, such arguments can and do easily come up short.

But when looked at straight on, with unblinking eyes, health care disparities should provoke other more forceful emotions: anger, to begin with; chagrin, consternation. Women receive fewer heart catheterizations and reperfusions than men. (See R. Di Cecco and colleagues’ “Is There a Clinically Significant Gender Bias in Post-Myocardial Infarction Pharmacological Management in the Older Population of a Primary Care Practice?” and Jneid and coworkers’ “Sex Difference in Medical Care and Early Death after Acute Myocardial Infarction.”) Because of this, more women die.

Blacks and Hispanics receive fewer analgesics for the excruciating pain of broken bones, and they are amputated more frequently than whites for identical peripheral arterial disease. (See Knox and colleagues’ “Ethnicity as a Risk Factor for Inadequate Emergency Department Analgesia,” Bonham’s “Race, Ethnicity and Pain Treatments: Striving to Understand the Causes and Solutions to the Disparities in Pain Treatments,” and Feinglass and coworkers’ “Racial Differences in Primary and Repeat Lower Extremity Amputation: Results From a Multihospital Study.”) They suffer accordingly.

The statistical accounting of these disparities masks the faces of pain and desperation – of disabilities, often of mortality. These are hard visceral truths that derive in part from the underrepresentation of minorities in various specialties, most pronounced in orthopedics. These are the truths that, when actually absorbed rather than just registered, have the capacity to transform awareness into motivation and in so doing can begin reshaping a culture that restricts minorities and women and makes orthopedics, as Ms. McFarling calls it, “the whitest specialty.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

As Usha Lee McFarling has pointed out, the orthopedic surgeon specialty suffers from a gross underrepresentation of minorities and women, more severe than in other medical specialties. There are various reasons for this and a variety of possible paths toward improvement, but the “critical first step,” as American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons former president Kristy Weber, MD, told Ms. McFarling, “is changing the culture.”

“Changing the culture” is a large, diffuse aspiration. The AAOS has taken a number of steps toward that end, but they have not had much success. The two of us have identified others, which may help to move the needle. But any approach to resolving this stubbornly resistant racial and gender imbalance requires, first of all, an understanding of the psychological and neurobiological roots that underlie it.

Viewed from this perspective, the cultural barriers to inclusivity are similar to those that perpetuate inequitable health care. Both are driven by ingroup/outgroup prejudices that operate below the level of consciousness and are largely unseen.In our book Seeing Patients, we examined health disparities in six “non-mainstream” groups: African Americans, Hispanic Americans, women, gays and lesbians, and the elderly. We based our work initially on the Institute of Medicine’s breakthrough 2003 compendium, Unequal Treatment, which brought together a large number of studies on health care inequities that had appeared in a variety of journals over many years, but had never generated the critical mass necessary to create a call for action or even attract serious attention.

Unequal Treatment allowed us to understand that each medical specialty, right down the line – orthopedics, cardiology, gynecology, oncology, psychiatry, to name just a few – has its own grim history of discrimination. Our sense of the medical community in the 21st century led us away from the idea that overt bias is a significant cause of these still ongoing inequities. Most physicians, we believed, consider themselves to be, and strive to be, humane, compassionate, and egalitarian caregivers. The answer then seemed to be in subconscious rather than conscious bias.

As we reviewed the literature and strove to understand the primary drivers of the discrimination that systematically affects medical care, our attention was drawn to two critical and complementary mechanisms hard-wired into our systems for parsing and responding to our environment. The first was “stereotyping,” so often used as a pejorative, but which is, in fact, a primary and essential mental function.

“We all make stereotypic judgments,” says Rice University emeritus professor of psychology David Schneider in The Psychology of Stereotyping (page 419). “It happens with race. It happens with disability. It happens ... with gender, age, and physical appearance. ... That’s just the way it is: Our mental apparatus was designed to facilitate quick decisions based on category membership.”

Differentiation – social stereotyping in our case – is a given, then; it’s innate. The content of stereotyping – of Blacks, gays, women, and others – is not innate, but it is deeply ingrained by living in a given milieu and just as impossible to ignore.

The second mechanism we focused on was the neurobiology that underlies the impact of hidden emotion on rational thought. In his seminal book Descartes’ Error, neuroscientist Antonio Damasio spells out how the mind with its cognitive functions has evolved from the body and its emotional systems, and how they function together through neuro-networks that connect the mechanisms of feeling with the brain’s decision-making centers.

“Feelings,” Dr. Damasio tells us, “come first in [brain] development and retain a primacy that pervades our mental life.” The limbic system, the part of the brain that controls our emotional responses, constitutes a “frame of reference and has “a say on how the rest of the brain and cognition go about their business. [Its] influence is immense.” (Page 185)

Dr. Damasio was not focusing on medical decisions, but his insights, we felt, had great relevance for the question of unconscious bias in health care. Various studies by physicians and medical scientists do speak directly to the issue of how affective bias influences diagnosis and treatment. Pat Croskerry, director of Dalhousie University’s Clinical Research Center, argues that “cognitive and affective biases are known to compromise the decision-making” and that commonly “these are largely unconscious mistakes.”

Harvard’s Jerome Groopman, in his book How Doctors Think (page 40), writes that most incorrect diagnoses and treatments are “mistakes in thinking. And part of what causes these cognitive errors is our inner feelings, feelings we ... often don’t even recognize.” Cognition and emotion, Dr. Groopman insists, are inseparable. The emotional landscape sets the ground for decision-making.

The underlying mechanisms that enable health care prejudice are the same that enable interpersonal prejudice generally. Unseen and largely unrecognized, they affect ingroup/outgroup relations in every field of interaction, from bias in policing, to bias in housing, to bias in employment – “powerful and universal,” in Dr. Croskerry’s words, “affecting all walks of life.”

Decision-making about acceptance into orthopedic residencies is no exception. As Prof. Schneider says, “That’s just the way it is.”

What conclusions can be drawn from understanding the deep origins of subconscious bias that might improve the inclusion of minorities and women in orthopedics? A growing interest in “debiasing” in both the medical and cognitive psychology literature has identified or suggested methods of counteracting the prejudices we all harbor. (See Bhatti’s “Cognitive Bias in Clinical Practice,” Wilson and Brekke’s “Mental Contamination and Mental Correction: Unwanted Influences on Judgments and Evaluations,” and De Neys and colleagues’ “Feeling We’re Biased: Autonomic Arousal and Reasoning Conflict.”)

Many of these debiasing techniques have to do with education regarding cognitive functions, from training in decision-making processes to “time outs,” to checklists à la Atul Gawande, to other methods of metacognition.

But the two key prerequisites to all of these approaches are more or less self-evident. “For biases to be successfully addressed,” says Dr. Croskerry, “there needs to be ... awareness as well as the motivation for change.”

In a previous article we discussed the need to heighten awareness over and above current levels, and we have suggested steps toward that end. But awareness is only the first prerequisite; the second is motivation, and the depth of motivation necessary to create change in the business of orthopedic inclusion is, for all the AAOS’s efforts, simply inadequate – the result being that the culture does not change, or it changes so glacially as to be hardly noticeable.

Ms. McFarling noted in her interviews with orthopedic leaders, clinicians, residents, and medical students simmering feelings of frustration and perplexity. We would suggest that the frustration is because of the fact that, while there is a general awareness of the problem, there has simply not been the sufficiently determined motivation to fix it. “It is not neglected truths,” as religious scholar Gregory Dix put it, “but those that are at once fully acknowledged and frustrated of their proper expression, which take the most drastic psychological revenge.”

All of this leads back to the original problem posed by Prof. Weber, the former AAOS president: changing the orthopedic culture. The question of how cultures undergo transformation has been addressed by scholars across widely diverse fields (see, for example, Thomas Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Francis Fukuyama›s The End of History and the Last Man, and many others). But we are addressing here a narrow, well-defined slice of that problem. And our own explorations have led to the conclusion that the answer here lies in the issue of motivation – namely, how can a community that is aware of a problem be sufficiently motivated to fix it?

In Seeing Patients we argued that doctoring is the paradigmatic humanitarian profession, that physicians’ whole business is to care for and alleviate the suffering of other human beings. In this sense, doctors are the carriers of the humane ideal, which is congruent also with the noblest egalitarian principles of our life as a nation. We argued also that humanitarian medicine with its egalitarian mandate is a win-win-win proposition. The patient wins, the doctor wins, the society wins.

We think arguments like these should provide plenty of motivation for change. But in reality they are not sufficient. Our arguments and those of others along the same lines (see Louis Sullivan’s Breaking Ground and David McBride’s Caring for Equality) are directed for the most part at the better angels of our nature. They appeal to personal and political values: compassion, fairness, equality – powerful yet set against custom, habituation, and the daily pressures of practice, such arguments can and do easily come up short.

But when looked at straight on, with unblinking eyes, health care disparities should provoke other more forceful emotions: anger, to begin with; chagrin, consternation. Women receive fewer heart catheterizations and reperfusions than men. (See R. Di Cecco and colleagues’ “Is There a Clinically Significant Gender Bias in Post-Myocardial Infarction Pharmacological Management in the Older Population of a Primary Care Practice?” and Jneid and coworkers’ “Sex Difference in Medical Care and Early Death after Acute Myocardial Infarction.”) Because of this, more women die.

Blacks and Hispanics receive fewer analgesics for the excruciating pain of broken bones, and they are amputated more frequently than whites for identical peripheral arterial disease. (See Knox and colleagues’ “Ethnicity as a Risk Factor for Inadequate Emergency Department Analgesia,” Bonham’s “Race, Ethnicity and Pain Treatments: Striving to Understand the Causes and Solutions to the Disparities in Pain Treatments,” and Feinglass and coworkers’ “Racial Differences in Primary and Repeat Lower Extremity Amputation: Results From a Multihospital Study.”) They suffer accordingly.

The statistical accounting of these disparities masks the faces of pain and desperation – of disabilities, often of mortality. These are hard visceral truths that derive in part from the underrepresentation of minorities in various specialties, most pronounced in orthopedics. These are the truths that, when actually absorbed rather than just registered, have the capacity to transform awareness into motivation and in so doing can begin reshaping a culture that restricts minorities and women and makes orthopedics, as Ms. McFarling calls it, “the whitest specialty.”

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Air pollution is a well-established cause of morbidity and mortality. It largely comes from manmade sources such as particulate matter that arises from burning fossil fuels, which is a major contributor of greenhouse gas emissions.

Acute exposure to fine inhalable particles of as little as 2.5 mcm (PM2.5) in diameter can cause a decrease in lung function leading to respiratory and cardiovascular diseases and even death because of cardiopulmonary conditions and lung cancer.

The 2015 Global Burden of Disease study lists air pollution as the fourth highest–ranking global mortality risk factor. The World Health Organization estimated that 4.2 million deaths were caused by outdoor air pollution in 2016, and another 2.3 million from indoor air pollution.

Not all oncologists believe that air pollution is a cancer problem, but air pollution and particulate matters are carcinogens and in fact, they have been deemed level 1 carcinogens by the International Association of Research on Cancer.

The research on the link between air pollution, PM2.5 and lung cancer is robust. Numerous epidemiological studies have shown that people living in highly polluted areas are more likely to die of lung cancer than those who do not. For example, Turner and colleagues in CA: A Cancer Journal for Clinicians performed a Cox proportional hazard regression model adjusting for numerous variables – smoking, passive smoking, occupational exposures (asbestos, coal dust, diesel engine exhaust, etc.), an occupational “dirtiness” index, radon exposure, among others – and found a dose-response relationship between PM2.5 concentration and lung cancer mortality (each 10-mg/m increase in PM2.5 concentrations was associated with a 15%-27% increase in lung cancer mortality).

A similar analysis by Coleman and colleagues in Cancer Causes and Control found lung cancer mortality was adversely associated with increases in PM2.5 not only in the overall population that was studied, but also in a never-smoker cohort. A study reported in Environmental Health Perspectives also showed that exposure to air pollution increases the incidence and mortality from lung cancer, with lung cancer risk associated with PM2.5 exposure being greatest for former smokers (hazard ratio, 1.44; 95% CI, 1.04-2.01), followed by never-smokers (HR, 1.18; 95% CI, 1.00-1.39), and then current smokers (HR, 1.06; 95% CI, 0.97-1.15).

A 2020 study reported in Thorax that patients with COPD who have never smoked were more likely to get lung cancer, compared with never-smokers without COPD (HR, 2.67, 95% CI, 2.09-3.40). Other studies (The Lancet Oncology and The Lancet) confirm these findings. A meta-analysis published in Environmental Research of a large number of cohort studies over the past 25 years reported that the estimated HR, adjusted for age, sex, and smoking status, was 1.13 (95% CI, 1.07-1.20) per 10 mcg/m elevation in PM2.5.

Air pollution also affects patients who already have lung cancer. Air pollution exposures after the diagnosis of lung cancer shortens survival. For example, a 2016 study published in the journal Thorax found the median survival for patients with early-stage lung cancer at diagnosis was 2.4 years for those with high PM2.5 exposure (≥ 16 mcg/m³) and 5.7 years for those with low PM2.5 exposure (< 10 mcg/m³).

What does air pollution have to do with climate change? They both come from the burning of fossil fuels

Although the topic of climate change is generally seen through an environmental (and political) lens, it should also be seen through a health lens. In 2021, the New England Journal of Medicine and 229 other publications simultaneously published an editorial calling climate change a health emergency.

The increase in the earth’s temperature causes extreme weather events, such as heat waves, droughts, floods, and rising sea levels, all of which results in multiple health effects. These include conditions associated with water and food contamination, and increased susceptibility to allergens. There are also changes in vector ecology which leads to expanding areas of vector-borne diseases, such as Lyme disease, West Nile, and Zika.

Extreme weather events also have major impacts on the ability of cancer patients to access care and their medication. For example, a recent study published in JAMA found that poorer survival was associated with patients with non–small cell lung cancer receiving definitive radiation therapy during hurricane disasters, compared with a matched cohort of patients who underwent treatment in the absence of a hurricane disaster.

Reducing our dependence on fossil fuels will have two important health benefits: mitigating climate change and its associated effects on health, and decreasing air pollution and its subsequent oncologic consequences.

Dr. Schiller is a medical oncologist and founding member of Oncologists United for Climate and Health. She is a former board member of the International Association for the Study of Lung Cancer and a current board member of the Lung Cancer Research Foundation.

Air pollution is a well-established cause of morbidity and mortality. It largely comes from manmade sources such as particulate matter that arises from burning fossil fuels, which is a major contributor of greenhouse gas emissions.

Acute exposure to fine inhalable particles of as little as 2.5 mcm (PM2.5) in diameter can cause a decrease in lung function leading to respiratory and cardiovascular diseases and even death because of cardiopulmonary conditions and lung cancer.

The 2015 Global Burden of Disease study lists air pollution as the fourth highest–ranking global mortality risk factor. The World Health Organization estimated that 4.2 million deaths were caused by outdoor air pollution in 2016, and another 2.3 million from indoor air pollution.

Not all oncologists believe that air pollution is a cancer problem, but air pollution and particulate matters are carcinogens and in fact, they have been deemed level 1 carcinogens by the International Association of Research on Cancer.

The research on the link between air pollution, PM2.5 and lung cancer is robust. Numerous epidemiological studies have shown that people living in highly polluted areas are more likely to die of lung cancer than those who do not. For example, Turner and colleagues in CA: A Cancer Journal for Clinicians performed a Cox proportional hazard regression model adjusting for numerous variables – smoking, passive smoking, occupational exposures (asbestos, coal dust, diesel engine exhaust, etc.), an occupational “dirtiness” index, radon exposure, among others – and found a dose-response relationship between PM2.5 concentration and lung cancer mortality (each 10-mg/m increase in PM2.5 concentrations was associated with a 15%-27% increase in lung cancer mortality).

A similar analysis by Coleman and colleagues in Cancer Causes and Control found lung cancer mortality was adversely associated with increases in PM2.5 not only in the overall population that was studied, but also in a never-smoker cohort. A study reported in Environmental Health Perspectives also showed that exposure to air pollution increases the incidence and mortality from lung cancer, with lung cancer risk associated with PM2.5 exposure being greatest for former smokers (hazard ratio, 1.44; 95% CI, 1.04-2.01), followed by never-smokers (HR, 1.18; 95% CI, 1.00-1.39), and then current smokers (HR, 1.06; 95% CI, 0.97-1.15).

A 2020 study reported in Thorax that patients with COPD who have never smoked were more likely to get lung cancer, compared with never-smokers without COPD (HR, 2.67, 95% CI, 2.09-3.40). Other studies (The Lancet Oncology and The Lancet) confirm these findings. A meta-analysis published in Environmental Research of a large number of cohort studies over the past 25 years reported that the estimated HR, adjusted for age, sex, and smoking status, was 1.13 (95% CI, 1.07-1.20) per 10 mcg/m elevation in PM2.5.

Air pollution also affects patients who already have lung cancer. Air pollution exposures after the diagnosis of lung cancer shortens survival. For example, a 2016 study published in the journal Thorax found the median survival for patients with early-stage lung cancer at diagnosis was 2.4 years for those with high PM2.5 exposure (≥ 16 mcg/m³) and 5.7 years for those with low PM2.5 exposure (< 10 mcg/m³).

What does air pollution have to do with climate change? They both come from the burning of fossil fuels

Although the topic of climate change is generally seen through an environmental (and political) lens, it should also be seen through a health lens. In 2021, the New England Journal of Medicine and 229 other publications simultaneously published an editorial calling climate change a health emergency.

The increase in the earth’s temperature causes extreme weather events, such as heat waves, droughts, floods, and rising sea levels, all of which results in multiple health effects. These include conditions associated with water and food contamination, and increased susceptibility to allergens. There are also changes in vector ecology which leads to expanding areas of vector-borne diseases, such as Lyme disease, West Nile, and Zika.

Extreme weather events also have major impacts on the ability of cancer patients to access care and their medication. For example, a recent study published in JAMA found that poorer survival was associated with patients with non–small cell lung cancer receiving definitive radiation therapy during hurricane disasters, compared with a matched cohort of patients who underwent treatment in the absence of a hurricane disaster.

Reducing our dependence on fossil fuels will have two important health benefits: mitigating climate change and its associated effects on health, and decreasing air pollution and its subsequent oncologic consequences.

Dr. Schiller is a medical oncologist and founding member of Oncologists United for Climate and Health. She is a former board member of the International Association for the Study of Lung Cancer and a current board member of the Lung Cancer Research Foundation.

Air pollution is a well-established cause of morbidity and mortality. It largely comes from manmade sources such as particulate matter that arises from burning fossil fuels, which is a major contributor of greenhouse gas emissions.

Acute exposure to fine inhalable particles of as little as 2.5 mcm (PM2.5) in diameter can cause a decrease in lung function leading to respiratory and cardiovascular diseases and even death because of cardiopulmonary conditions and lung cancer.

The 2015 Global Burden of Disease study lists air pollution as the fourth highest–ranking global mortality risk factor. The World Health Organization estimated that 4.2 million deaths were caused by outdoor air pollution in 2016, and another 2.3 million from indoor air pollution.

Not all oncologists believe that air pollution is a cancer problem, but air pollution and particulate matters are carcinogens and in fact, they have been deemed level 1 carcinogens by the International Association of Research on Cancer.

The research on the link between air pollution, PM2.5 and lung cancer is robust. Numerous epidemiological studies have shown that people living in highly polluted areas are more likely to die of lung cancer than those who do not. For example, Turner and colleagues in CA: A Cancer Journal for Clinicians performed a Cox proportional hazard regression model adjusting for numerous variables – smoking, passive smoking, occupational exposures (asbestos, coal dust, diesel engine exhaust, etc.), an occupational “dirtiness” index, radon exposure, among others – and found a dose-response relationship between PM2.5 concentration and lung cancer mortality (each 10-mg/m increase in PM2.5 concentrations was associated with a 15%-27% increase in lung cancer mortality).

A similar analysis by Coleman and colleagues in Cancer Causes and Control found lung cancer mortality was adversely associated with increases in PM2.5 not only in the overall population that was studied, but also in a never-smoker cohort. A study reported in Environmental Health Perspectives also showed that exposure to air pollution increases the incidence and mortality from lung cancer, with lung cancer risk associated with PM2.5 exposure being greatest for former smokers (hazard ratio, 1.44; 95% CI, 1.04-2.01), followed by never-smokers (HR, 1.18; 95% CI, 1.00-1.39), and then current smokers (HR, 1.06; 95% CI, 0.97-1.15).

A 2020 study reported in Thorax that patients with COPD who have never smoked were more likely to get lung cancer, compared with never-smokers without COPD (HR, 2.67, 95% CI, 2.09-3.40). Other studies (The Lancet Oncology and The Lancet) confirm these findings. A meta-analysis published in Environmental Research of a large number of cohort studies over the past 25 years reported that the estimated HR, adjusted for age, sex, and smoking status, was 1.13 (95% CI, 1.07-1.20) per 10 mcg/m elevation in PM2.5.

Air pollution also affects patients who already have lung cancer. Air pollution exposures after the diagnosis of lung cancer shortens survival. For example, a 2016 study published in the journal Thorax found the median survival for patients with early-stage lung cancer at diagnosis was 2.4 years for those with high PM2.5 exposure (≥ 16 mcg/m³) and 5.7 years for those with low PM2.5 exposure (< 10 mcg/m³).

What does air pollution have to do with climate change? They both come from the burning of fossil fuels

Although the topic of climate change is generally seen through an environmental (and political) lens, it should also be seen through a health lens. In 2021, the New England Journal of Medicine and 229 other publications simultaneously published an editorial calling climate change a health emergency.

The increase in the earth’s temperature causes extreme weather events, such as heat waves, droughts, floods, and rising sea levels, all of which results in multiple health effects. These include conditions associated with water and food contamination, and increased susceptibility to allergens. There are also changes in vector ecology which leads to expanding areas of vector-borne diseases, such as Lyme disease, West Nile, and Zika.

Extreme weather events also have major impacts on the ability of cancer patients to access care and their medication. For example, a recent study published in JAMA found that poorer survival was associated with patients with non–small cell lung cancer receiving definitive radiation therapy during hurricane disasters, compared with a matched cohort of patients who underwent treatment in the absence of a hurricane disaster.

Reducing our dependence on fossil fuels will have two important health benefits: mitigating climate change and its associated effects on health, and decreasing air pollution and its subsequent oncologic consequences.

Dr. Schiller is a medical oncologist and founding member of Oncologists United for Climate and Health. She is a former board member of the International Association for the Study of Lung Cancer and a current board member of the Lung Cancer Research Foundation.

“Grandma’s workouts may have made you healthier.” The title and accompanying photo of a pair of well-worn women’s running shoes caught my eye immediately. For whatever reason, we are a family of exercisers. My wife has competed in several triathlons and won two of them. With her I have cycled across the United States. It has not surprised us that all three of our children have run at least one marathon. I have always viewed their continued devotion to an active lifestyle and their healthy bodies as a tribute to the benefits of our attempts at parenting by example. We certainly didn’t coach them, lecture them, or run family boot camps on weekends and school vacations.

I had never really given much thought as to whether their grandparents also may have played any role in their affinity for physical activity until I read that article. Apparently, my mother was a gifted athlete as a young woman. I have seen photos of her playing tennis, skiing, and diving and heard stories, but I never saw her do any of these activities except a single perfect swan dive when I must have been 8 or 9 years old.

Similarly, scrapbooks reveal that my mother-in-law had an active sports life in high school. But we never saw any evidence of her athletic activity save a devotion to a gentle backstroke in the cold Maine waters during the summer. My wife and I and our children never saw these grandmothers do anything more sporting or physically taxing than single-handedly preparing a full Thanksgiving dinner. How could their exercise habits have influenced the health of their grandchildren?

A team of researchers at the Joslin Diabetes Center in Boston found that female mice who were given the opportunity to exercise produced offspring that had lower fat mass, higher bone mineral density, and insulin levels usually associated with a lower risk of type 2 diabetes. And, in a bit of a surprise, the next generation of offspring accrued a similar benefit even though its mothers were not exercising. The role of exercise in the fathers was eliminated by experimental design.

So it appears that the first-generation offspring’s gametes and hence the third generation was being exposed in utero to something generated by the grandmothers’ exercise. It does not appear to be a behavior pattern that is passed on. It may have to do with epigenetics. Searching for this unknown factor is ongoing and broad based.

Obviously, similar studies in humans are not on the drawing board. Our reproductive cycle is significantly longer than the 2 years of the mouse. However, looking at their current data, the researchers feel comfortable encouraging a mother to exercise during pregnancy as long as it is compatible with the particulars of her obstetrical course. It would be unkind and without basis in fact to blame your mother’s or your mother-in-law’s sedentary behavior for your child’s poor metabolic health. However, it is reasonable to point out to women considering pregnancy that, in addition to avoiding alcohol and smoking, a good dose of exercise during pregnancy will benefit their children. You can point out that it may even benefit their grandchildren. And of course, once the baby is born and a mother feels comfortable returning to her exercise regime, she should go for it. Remind her also that parenting by example is still the best way to do it.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

“Grandma’s workouts may have made you healthier.” The title and accompanying photo of a pair of well-worn women’s running shoes caught my eye immediately. For whatever reason, we are a family of exercisers. My wife has competed in several triathlons and won two of them. With her I have cycled across the United States. It has not surprised us that all three of our children have run at least one marathon. I have always viewed their continued devotion to an active lifestyle and their healthy bodies as a tribute to the benefits of our attempts at parenting by example. We certainly didn’t coach them, lecture them, or run family boot camps on weekends and school vacations.

I had never really given much thought as to whether their grandparents also may have played any role in their affinity for physical activity until I read that article. Apparently, my mother was a gifted athlete as a young woman. I have seen photos of her playing tennis, skiing, and diving and heard stories, but I never saw her do any of these activities except a single perfect swan dive when I must have been 8 or 9 years old.

Similarly, scrapbooks reveal that my mother-in-law had an active sports life in high school. But we never saw any evidence of her athletic activity save a devotion to a gentle backstroke in the cold Maine waters during the summer. My wife and I and our children never saw these grandmothers do anything more sporting or physically taxing than single-handedly preparing a full Thanksgiving dinner. How could their exercise habits have influenced the health of their grandchildren?

A team of researchers at the Joslin Diabetes Center in Boston found that female mice who were given the opportunity to exercise produced offspring that had lower fat mass, higher bone mineral density, and insulin levels usually associated with a lower risk of type 2 diabetes. And, in a bit of a surprise, the next generation of offspring accrued a similar benefit even though its mothers were not exercising. The role of exercise in the fathers was eliminated by experimental design.

So it appears that the first-generation offspring’s gametes and hence the third generation was being exposed in utero to something generated by the grandmothers’ exercise. It does not appear to be a behavior pattern that is passed on. It may have to do with epigenetics. Searching for this unknown factor is ongoing and broad based.

Obviously, similar studies in humans are not on the drawing board. Our reproductive cycle is significantly longer than the 2 years of the mouse. However, looking at their current data, the researchers feel comfortable encouraging a mother to exercise during pregnancy as long as it is compatible with the particulars of her obstetrical course. It would be unkind and without basis in fact to blame your mother’s or your mother-in-law’s sedentary behavior for your child’s poor metabolic health. However, it is reasonable to point out to women considering pregnancy that, in addition to avoiding alcohol and smoking, a good dose of exercise during pregnancy will benefit their children. You can point out that it may even benefit their grandchildren. And of course, once the baby is born and a mother feels comfortable returning to her exercise regime, she should go for it. Remind her also that parenting by example is still the best way to do it.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

“Grandma’s workouts may have made you healthier.” The title and accompanying photo of a pair of well-worn women’s running shoes caught my eye immediately. For whatever reason, we are a family of exercisers. My wife has competed in several triathlons and won two of them. With her I have cycled across the United States. It has not surprised us that all three of our children have run at least one marathon. I have always viewed their continued devotion to an active lifestyle and their healthy bodies as a tribute to the benefits of our attempts at parenting by example. We certainly didn’t coach them, lecture them, or run family boot camps on weekends and school vacations.

I had never really given much thought as to whether their grandparents also may have played any role in their affinity for physical activity until I read that article. Apparently, my mother was a gifted athlete as a young woman. I have seen photos of her playing tennis, skiing, and diving and heard stories, but I never saw her do any of these activities except a single perfect swan dive when I must have been 8 or 9 years old.

Similarly, scrapbooks reveal that my mother-in-law had an active sports life in high school. But we never saw any evidence of her athletic activity save a devotion to a gentle backstroke in the cold Maine waters during the summer. My wife and I and our children never saw these grandmothers do anything more sporting or physically taxing than single-handedly preparing a full Thanksgiving dinner. How could their exercise habits have influenced the health of their grandchildren?

A team of researchers at the Joslin Diabetes Center in Boston found that female mice who were given the opportunity to exercise produced offspring that had lower fat mass, higher bone mineral density, and insulin levels usually associated with a lower risk of type 2 diabetes. And, in a bit of a surprise, the next generation of offspring accrued a similar benefit even though its mothers were not exercising. The role of exercise in the fathers was eliminated by experimental design.

So it appears that the first-generation offspring’s gametes and hence the third generation was being exposed in utero to something generated by the grandmothers’ exercise. It does not appear to be a behavior pattern that is passed on. It may have to do with epigenetics. Searching for this unknown factor is ongoing and broad based.

Obviously, similar studies in humans are not on the drawing board. Our reproductive cycle is significantly longer than the 2 years of the mouse. However, looking at their current data, the researchers feel comfortable encouraging a mother to exercise during pregnancy as long as it is compatible with the particulars of her obstetrical course. It would be unkind and without basis in fact to blame your mother’s or your mother-in-law’s sedentary behavior for your child’s poor metabolic health. However, it is reasonable to point out to women considering pregnancy that, in addition to avoiding alcohol and smoking, a good dose of exercise during pregnancy will benefit their children. You can point out that it may even benefit their grandchildren. And of course, once the baby is born and a mother feels comfortable returning to her exercise regime, she should go for it. Remind her also that parenting by example is still the best way to do it.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

The American Society for Reproductive Medicine’s classification system for müllerian anomalies was the standard until the revision in 2021 by ASRM, which updated and expanded the classification presenting nine classes and imaging criteria: müllerian agenesis, cervical agenesis, unicornuate, uterus didelphys, bicornuate, septate, longitudinal vaginal septum, transverse vaginal septum, and complex anomalies. This month’s article addresses müllerian anomalies from embryology to treatment options.

The early embryo has the capability of developing a wolffian (internal male) or müllerian (internal female) system. Unless anti-müllerian hormone (formerly müllerian-inhibiting substance) is produced, the embryo develops a female reproductive system beginning with two lateral uterine anlagen that fuse in the midline and canalize. Müllerian anomalies occur because of accidents during fusion and canalization (see Table).

The incidence of müllerian anomalies is difficult to discern, given the potential for a normal reproductive outcome precluding an evaluation and based on the population studied. Müllerian anomalies are found in approximately 4.3% of fertile women, 3.5%-8% of infertile patients, 12.3%-13% of those with recurrent pregnancy losses, and 24.5% of patients with miscarriage and infertility. Of the müllerian anomalies, the most common is septate (35%), followed by bicornuate (26%), arcuate (18%), unicornuate (10%), didelphys (8%), and agenesis (3%) (Hum Reprod Update. 2001;7[2]:161; Hum Reprod Update. 2011;17[6]:761-71).

In 20%-30% of patients with müllerian anomalies, particularly in women with a unicornuate uterus, renal anomalies exist that are typically ipsilateral to the absent or rudimentary contralateral uterine horn (J Pediatr Adolesc Gynecol. 2021;34[2]:154-60). As there is no definitive evidence to suggest an association between a septate uterus and renal anomalies, the renal system evaluation can be deferred in this population (Fertil Steril. 2021 Nov;116[5]:1238-52).
 

Diagnosis

2-D ultrasound can be a screen for müllerian anomalies and genitourinary anatomic variants. The diagnostic accuracy of 3-D ultrasound with müllerian anomalies is reported to be 97.6% with sensitivity and specificity of 98.3% and 99.4%, respectively (Hum. Reprod. 2016;31[1]:2-7). As a result, office 3-D has essentially replaced MRI in the diagnosis of müllerian anomalies (Ultrasound Obstet Gynecol. 2015 Nov;46[5]:616-22), with one exception because of the avoidance of a transvaginal probe in the non–sexually active adult and younger adolescent/child. MRI is reserved for diagnosing complex müllerian anomalies or if there is a diagnostic challenge.

Criteria to diagnose müllerian anomalies by radiology begins with the “reference line,” i.e., a line joining both tubal ostia (interostial line). A septate uterus is diagnosed if the distance from the interostial line to the cephalad endometrium is more than 1 cm, otherwise it is considered normal or arcuate based on its appearance. An arcuate uterus has not been associated with impaired reproduction and can be viewed as a normal variant. Alternatively, a bicornuate uterus is diagnosed when the external fundal indentation is more than 1 cm (Fertil Steril. 2021 Nov;116[5]:1238-52).
 

Clinical course

Women with müllerian anomalies may experience pelvic pain and prolonged and/or abnormal bleeding at the time of menarche. While the ability to conceive may not be impaired from müllerian anomalies with the possible exception of the septate uterus, the pregnancy course can be affected, i.e., recurrent pregnancy loss, preterm birth, perinatal mortality, and malpresentation in labor (Reprod Biomed Online. 2014;29[6]:665). In women with septate, bicornuate, and uterine didelphys, fetal growth restriction appears to be increased. Spontaneous abortion rates of 32% and preterm birth rates of 28% have been reported in patients with uterus didelphys (Obstet Gynecol. 1990;75[6]:906).

Special consideration of the unicornuate is given because of the potential for a rudimentary horn that may communicate with the main uterine cavity and/or have functional endometrium which places the woman at risk of an ectopic pregnancy in the smaller horn. Patients with a unicornuate uterus are at higher risk for preterm labor and breech presentation. An obstructed (noncommunicating) functional rudimentary horn is a risk for endometriosis with cyclic pain because of outflow tract obstruction and an ectopic pregnancy prompting consideration for hemihysterectomy based on symptoms.
 

The septate uterus – old dogma revisited

The incidence of uterine septa is approximately 1-15 per 1,000. As the most common müllerian anomaly, the septate uterus has traditionally been associated with an increased risk for spontaneous abortion (21%-44%) and preterm birth (12%-33%). The live birth rate ranges from 50% to 72% (Hum Reprod Update. 2001;7[2]:161-74). A uterine septum is believed to develop as a result of failure of resorption of the tissue connecting the two paramesonephric (müllerian) ducts prior to the 20th embryonic week.

Incising the uterine septum (metroplasty) dates back to 1884 when Ruge described a blind transcervical metroplasty in a woman with two previous miscarriages who, postoperatively, delivered a healthy baby. In the early 1900s, Tompkins reported an abdominal metroplasty (Fertil Stertil. 2021;115:1140-2). The decision to proceed with metroplasty is based on only established observational studies (Fertil Steril. 2016;106:530-40). Until recently, the majority of studies suggested that metroplasty is associated with decreased spontaneous abortion rates and improved obstetrical outcomes. A retrospective case series of 361 patients with a septate uterus who had primary infertility of >2 years’ duration, a history of 1-2 spontaneous abortions, or recurrent pregnancy loss suggested a significant improvement in the live birth rate and reduction in miscarriage (Arch Gynecol Obstet. 2003;268:289-92). A meta-analysis found that the overall pregnancy rate after septum incision was 67.8% and the live-birth rate was 53.5% (J Minim Invas Gynecol. 2013;20:22-42).

Recently, two multinational studies question the prevailing dogma (Fertil Steril. 2021 Sep;116[3]:693-4). Both studies could not demonstrate any increase in live birth rate, reduction in preterm birth, or in pregnancy loss after metroplasty. A significant limitation was the lack of a uniform consensus on the definition of the septate uterus and allowing the discretion of the physician to diagnosis a septum (Hum Reprod. 2020;35:1578-88; Hum Reprod. 2021;36:1260-7).

Hysteroscopic metroplasty is not without complications. Uterine rupture during pregnancy or delivery, while rare, may be linked to significant entry into the myometrium and/or overzealous cauterization and perforation, which emphasizes the importance of appropriate techniques.
 

Conclusion

A diagnosis of müllerian anomalies justifies a comprehensive consultation with the patient given the risk of pregnancy complications. Management of the septate uterus has become controversial. In a patient with infertility, prior pregnancy loss, or poor obstetrical outcome, it is reasonable to consider metroplasty; otherwise, expectant management is an option.

Dr. Trolice is director of The IVF Center in Winter Park, Fla., and professor of obstetrics and gynecology at the University of Central Florida, Orlando. Email him at [email protected].

The American Society for Reproductive Medicine’s classification system for müllerian anomalies was the standard until the revision in 2021 by ASRM, which updated and expanded the classification presenting nine classes and imaging criteria: müllerian agenesis, cervical agenesis, unicornuate, uterus didelphys, bicornuate, septate, longitudinal vaginal septum, transverse vaginal septum, and complex anomalies. This month’s article addresses müllerian anomalies from embryology to treatment options.

The early embryo has the capability of developing a wolffian (internal male) or müllerian (internal female) system. Unless anti-müllerian hormone (formerly müllerian-inhibiting substance) is produced, the embryo develops a female reproductive system beginning with two lateral uterine anlagen that fuse in the midline and canalize. Müllerian anomalies occur because of accidents during fusion and canalization (see Table).

The incidence of müllerian anomalies is difficult to discern, given the potential for a normal reproductive outcome precluding an evaluation and based on the population studied. Müllerian anomalies are found in approximately 4.3% of fertile women, 3.5%-8% of infertile patients, 12.3%-13% of those with recurrent pregnancy losses, and 24.5% of patients with miscarriage and infertility. Of the müllerian anomalies, the most common is septate (35%), followed by bicornuate (26%), arcuate (18%), unicornuate (10%), didelphys (8%), and agenesis (3%) (Hum Reprod Update. 2001;7[2]:161; Hum Reprod Update. 2011;17[6]:761-71).

In 20%-30% of patients with müllerian anomalies, particularly in women with a unicornuate uterus, renal anomalies exist that are typically ipsilateral to the absent or rudimentary contralateral uterine horn (J Pediatr Adolesc Gynecol. 2021;34[2]:154-60). As there is no definitive evidence to suggest an association between a septate uterus and renal anomalies, the renal system evaluation can be deferred in this population (Fertil Steril. 2021 Nov;116[5]:1238-52).
 

Diagnosis

2-D ultrasound can be a screen for müllerian anomalies and genitourinary anatomic variants. The diagnostic accuracy of 3-D ultrasound with müllerian anomalies is reported to be 97.6% with sensitivity and specificity of 98.3% and 99.4%, respectively (Hum. Reprod. 2016;31[1]:2-7). As a result, office 3-D has essentially replaced MRI in the diagnosis of müllerian anomalies (Ultrasound Obstet Gynecol. 2015 Nov;46[5]:616-22), with one exception because of the avoidance of a transvaginal probe in the non–sexually active adult and younger adolescent/child. MRI is reserved for diagnosing complex müllerian anomalies or if there is a diagnostic challenge.

Criteria to diagnose müllerian anomalies by radiology begins with the “reference line,” i.e., a line joining both tubal ostia (interostial line). A septate uterus is diagnosed if the distance from the interostial line to the cephalad endometrium is more than 1 cm, otherwise it is considered normal or arcuate based on its appearance. An arcuate uterus has not been associated with impaired reproduction and can be viewed as a normal variant. Alternatively, a bicornuate uterus is diagnosed when the external fundal indentation is more than 1 cm (Fertil Steril. 2021 Nov;116[5]:1238-52).
 

Clinical course

Women with müllerian anomalies may experience pelvic pain and prolonged and/or abnormal bleeding at the time of menarche. While the ability to conceive may not be impaired from müllerian anomalies with the possible exception of the septate uterus, the pregnancy course can be affected, i.e., recurrent pregnancy loss, preterm birth, perinatal mortality, and malpresentation in labor (Reprod Biomed Online. 2014;29[6]:665). In women with septate, bicornuate, and uterine didelphys, fetal growth restriction appears to be increased. Spontaneous abortion rates of 32% and preterm birth rates of 28% have been reported in patients with uterus didelphys (Obstet Gynecol. 1990;75[6]:906).

Special consideration of the unicornuate is given because of the potential for a rudimentary horn that may communicate with the main uterine cavity and/or have functional endometrium which places the woman at risk of an ectopic pregnancy in the smaller horn. Patients with a unicornuate uterus are at higher risk for preterm labor and breech presentation. An obstructed (noncommunicating) functional rudimentary horn is a risk for endometriosis with cyclic pain because of outflow tract obstruction and an ectopic pregnancy prompting consideration for hemihysterectomy based on symptoms.
 

The septate uterus – old dogma revisited

The incidence of uterine septa is approximately 1-15 per 1,000. As the most common müllerian anomaly, the septate uterus has traditionally been associated with an increased risk for spontaneous abortion (21%-44%) and preterm birth (12%-33%). The live birth rate ranges from 50% to 72% (Hum Reprod Update. 2001;7[2]:161-74). A uterine septum is believed to develop as a result of failure of resorption of the tissue connecting the two paramesonephric (müllerian) ducts prior to the 20th embryonic week.

Incising the uterine septum (metroplasty) dates back to 1884 when Ruge described a blind transcervical metroplasty in a woman with two previous miscarriages who, postoperatively, delivered a healthy baby. In the early 1900s, Tompkins reported an abdominal metroplasty (Fertil Stertil. 2021;115:1140-2). The decision to proceed with metroplasty is based on only established observational studies (Fertil Steril. 2016;106:530-40). Until recently, the majority of studies suggested that metroplasty is associated with decreased spontaneous abortion rates and improved obstetrical outcomes. A retrospective case series of 361 patients with a septate uterus who had primary infertility of >2 years’ duration, a history of 1-2 spontaneous abortions, or recurrent pregnancy loss suggested a significant improvement in the live birth rate and reduction in miscarriage (Arch Gynecol Obstet. 2003;268:289-92). A meta-analysis found that the overall pregnancy rate after septum incision was 67.8% and the live-birth rate was 53.5% (J Minim Invas Gynecol. 2013;20:22-42).

Recently, two multinational studies question the prevailing dogma (Fertil Steril. 2021 Sep;116[3]:693-4). Both studies could not demonstrate any increase in live birth rate, reduction in preterm birth, or in pregnancy loss after metroplasty. A significant limitation was the lack of a uniform consensus on the definition of the septate uterus and allowing the discretion of the physician to diagnosis a septum (Hum Reprod. 2020;35:1578-88; Hum Reprod. 2021;36:1260-7).

Hysteroscopic metroplasty is not without complications. Uterine rupture during pregnancy or delivery, while rare, may be linked to significant entry into the myometrium and/or overzealous cauterization and perforation, which emphasizes the importance of appropriate techniques.
 

Conclusion

A diagnosis of müllerian anomalies justifies a comprehensive consultation with the patient given the risk of pregnancy complications. Management of the septate uterus has become controversial. In a patient with infertility, prior pregnancy loss, or poor obstetrical outcome, it is reasonable to consider metroplasty; otherwise, expectant management is an option.

Dr. Trolice is director of The IVF Center in Winter Park, Fla., and professor of obstetrics and gynecology at the University of Central Florida, Orlando. Email him at [email protected].

The American Society for Reproductive Medicine’s classification system for müllerian anomalies was the standard until the revision in 2021 by ASRM, which updated and expanded the classification presenting nine classes and imaging criteria: müllerian agenesis, cervical agenesis, unicornuate, uterus didelphys, bicornuate, septate, longitudinal vaginal septum, transverse vaginal septum, and complex anomalies. This month’s article addresses müllerian anomalies from embryology to treatment options.

The early embryo has the capability of developing a wolffian (internal male) or müllerian (internal female) system. Unless anti-müllerian hormone (formerly müllerian-inhibiting substance) is produced, the embryo develops a female reproductive system beginning with two lateral uterine anlagen that fuse in the midline and canalize. Müllerian anomalies occur because of accidents during fusion and canalization (see Table).

The incidence of müllerian anomalies is difficult to discern, given the potential for a normal reproductive outcome precluding an evaluation and based on the population studied. Müllerian anomalies are found in approximately 4.3% of fertile women, 3.5%-8% of infertile patients, 12.3%-13% of those with recurrent pregnancy losses, and 24.5% of patients with miscarriage and infertility. Of the müllerian anomalies, the most common is septate (35%), followed by bicornuate (26%), arcuate (18%), unicornuate (10%), didelphys (8%), and agenesis (3%) (Hum Reprod Update. 2001;7[2]:161; Hum Reprod Update. 2011;17[6]:761-71).

In 20%-30% of patients with müllerian anomalies, particularly in women with a unicornuate uterus, renal anomalies exist that are typically ipsilateral to the absent or rudimentary contralateral uterine horn (J Pediatr Adolesc Gynecol. 2021;34[2]:154-60). As there is no definitive evidence to suggest an association between a septate uterus and renal anomalies, the renal system evaluation can be deferred in this population (Fertil Steril. 2021 Nov;116[5]:1238-52).
 

Diagnosis

2-D ultrasound can be a screen for müllerian anomalies and genitourinary anatomic variants. The diagnostic accuracy of 3-D ultrasound with müllerian anomalies is reported to be 97.6% with sensitivity and specificity of 98.3% and 99.4%, respectively (Hum. Reprod. 2016;31[1]:2-7). As a result, office 3-D has essentially replaced MRI in the diagnosis of müllerian anomalies (Ultrasound Obstet Gynecol. 2015 Nov;46[5]:616-22), with one exception because of the avoidance of a transvaginal probe in the non–sexually active adult and younger adolescent/child. MRI is reserved for diagnosing complex müllerian anomalies or if there is a diagnostic challenge.

Criteria to diagnose müllerian anomalies by radiology begins with the “reference line,” i.e., a line joining both tubal ostia (interostial line). A septate uterus is diagnosed if the distance from the interostial line to the cephalad endometrium is more than 1 cm, otherwise it is considered normal or arcuate based on its appearance. An arcuate uterus has not been associated with impaired reproduction and can be viewed as a normal variant. Alternatively, a bicornuate uterus is diagnosed when the external fundal indentation is more than 1 cm (Fertil Steril. 2021 Nov;116[5]:1238-52).
 

Clinical course

Women with müllerian anomalies may experience pelvic pain and prolonged and/or abnormal bleeding at the time of menarche. While the ability to conceive may not be impaired from müllerian anomalies with the possible exception of the septate uterus, the pregnancy course can be affected, i.e., recurrent pregnancy loss, preterm birth, perinatal mortality, and malpresentation in labor (Reprod Biomed Online. 2014;29[6]:665). In women with septate, bicornuate, and uterine didelphys, fetal growth restriction appears to be increased. Spontaneous abortion rates of 32% and preterm birth rates of 28% have been reported in patients with uterus didelphys (Obstet Gynecol. 1990;75[6]:906).

Special consideration of the unicornuate is given because of the potential for a rudimentary horn that may communicate with the main uterine cavity and/or have functional endometrium which places the woman at risk of an ectopic pregnancy in the smaller horn. Patients with a unicornuate uterus are at higher risk for preterm labor and breech presentation. An obstructed (noncommunicating) functional rudimentary horn is a risk for endometriosis with cyclic pain because of outflow tract obstruction and an ectopic pregnancy prompting consideration for hemihysterectomy based on symptoms.
 

The septate uterus – old dogma revisited

The incidence of uterine septa is approximately 1-15 per 1,000. As the most common müllerian anomaly, the septate uterus has traditionally been associated with an increased risk for spontaneous abortion (21%-44%) and preterm birth (12%-33%). The live birth rate ranges from 50% to 72% (Hum Reprod Update. 2001;7[2]:161-74). A uterine septum is believed to develop as a result of failure of resorption of the tissue connecting the two paramesonephric (müllerian) ducts prior to the 20th embryonic week.

Incising the uterine septum (metroplasty) dates back to 1884 when Ruge described a blind transcervical metroplasty in a woman with two previous miscarriages who, postoperatively, delivered a healthy baby. In the early 1900s, Tompkins reported an abdominal metroplasty (Fertil Stertil. 2021;115:1140-2). The decision to proceed with metroplasty is based on only established observational studies (Fertil Steril. 2016;106:530-40). Until recently, the majority of studies suggested that metroplasty is associated with decreased spontaneous abortion rates and improved obstetrical outcomes. A retrospective case series of 361 patients with a septate uterus who had primary infertility of >2 years’ duration, a history of 1-2 spontaneous abortions, or recurrent pregnancy loss suggested a significant improvement in the live birth rate and reduction in miscarriage (Arch Gynecol Obstet. 2003;268:289-92). A meta-analysis found that the overall pregnancy rate after septum incision was 67.8% and the live-birth rate was 53.5% (J Minim Invas Gynecol. 2013;20:22-42).

Recently, two multinational studies question the prevailing dogma (Fertil Steril. 2021 Sep;116[3]:693-4). Both studies could not demonstrate any increase in live birth rate, reduction in preterm birth, or in pregnancy loss after metroplasty. A significant limitation was the lack of a uniform consensus on the definition of the septate uterus and allowing the discretion of the physician to diagnosis a septum (Hum Reprod. 2020;35:1578-88; Hum Reprod. 2021;36:1260-7).

Hysteroscopic metroplasty is not without complications. Uterine rupture during pregnancy or delivery, while rare, may be linked to significant entry into the myometrium and/or overzealous cauterization and perforation, which emphasizes the importance of appropriate techniques.
 

Conclusion

A diagnosis of müllerian anomalies justifies a comprehensive consultation with the patient given the risk of pregnancy complications. Management of the septate uterus has become controversial. In a patient with infertility, prior pregnancy loss, or poor obstetrical outcome, it is reasonable to consider metroplasty; otherwise, expectant management is an option.

Dr. Trolice is director of The IVF Center in Winter Park, Fla., and professor of obstetrics and gynecology at the University of Central Florida, Orlando. Email him at [email protected].

Whether your patient is a cisgender female or a transfeminine patient, urinary incontinence is unfortunately common and can have a significant negative effect on a person’s quality of life. While the incidence of incontinence is relatively well established in the cisgender population, these statistics remain elusive among transfeminine individuals. Many studies today currently examine cosmetic results, sexual function, and major complications rates, and are now starting to explore the long-term effects of these surgeries on the urinary tract.¹

As gender-affirming surgery increases in prevalence, our knowledge regarding long-term outcomes impacting quality of life needs to subsequently improve. A few small studies have examined the rates of incontinence and urinary dysfunction among transfeminine patients. In one study, changes in voiding were reported in 32% of patients, with 19% reporting worse voiding and 19% reporting some degree of incontinence.² A small series of 52 transgender female patients found rates of urinary urgency to be 24.6% and stress incontinence 23%.^1,3 Another study of only 18 patients demonstrated a significant rate of incontinence at 33%, which was due to stress urinary incontinence and overactive bladder.^1,4 Other studies noted postvoid dribbling to be as high as 79%.^1,2

Obtaining a thorough history is essential in evaluating patients with incontinence. Compared with cisgender females, risk factors for urinary incontinence in cisgender males are naturally different. For example, increasing age, parity, vaginal delivery, history of hysterectomy, and obesity are some risk factors for incontinence in cisgender women.^1,6 However, in men, overall rates are lower and tend to be associated with factors such as a history of stroke, diabetes, and injury to the urethral sphincter – which can occur in radical prostatectomy.¹

In addition to asking standard questions, such as caffeine use, beverage consumption, medication changes, physical activity, etc., the relationship of a patient’s symptoms to her vaginoplasty is crucial. Providers should elucidate whether patients experienced urinary symptoms prior to surgery, note the type of vaginoplasty performed, and determine if any temporal relationship exists with dilation or intercourse.

Communicating with the original surgeon and obtaining operative reports is often necessary to understand the flaps utilized and the current anatomic structures that were altered during surgery. Creation of the neovagina involves dissection through the levator ani, which can lead to neurologic injury and subsequently predispose patients to incontinence. The surgeon must be meticulous in their creation of the neovaginal space, particularly between the rectum and the prostatic urethra. As the dissection continues in a cephalad direction to the peritoneal reflection, the bladder can also suffer an iatrogenic injury.

In cases of the penile inversion vaginoplasty, a skin graft is typically used to line the neovaginal canal. If this graft fails to take appropriately it can prolapse and can contribute to urinary incontinence symptoms. Some surgeons will suspend the apical portion of the neovagina; however, the effect on rates of incontinence is mixed.

The physical exam of a transfeminine patient should consist of a general health assessment, neurological, abdominal, and genitourinary examinations. Palpation of the prostate is performed through the neovaginal canal if patent. During the urinary exam, the provider should make note of stenosis at the urethral meatus or urethral hypermobility. For patients reporting symptoms of stress incontinence, a cough stress test is useful. The neovagina should be carefully examined for fistula formation or any other structural abnormality.

Testing for urinary incontinence is similar to the evaluation in cisgender females in that every patient should undergo a urinalysis and a postvoid residual volume measurement, and should maintain a voiding diary. Indications for urodynamic testing are the same for transfeminine women and cisgender women – symptoms do not correlate with objective findings, failure to improve with treatment, prior incontinence from pelvic floor surgery, difficult diagnostic evaluation with unclear diagnosis.^5,6 Cystoscopy is useful for patients experiencing hematuria, before anti-incontinence surgery, or prior to transurethral prostate intervention.¹

Treatment is tailored to the type of incontinence diagnosed; however, there are no specific guidelines that are evidence-based for transfeminine patients after vaginoplasty. The therapies available are extrapolated from the general patient population. All patients can benefit from dietary modifications such as avoiding bladder irritants, monitoring fluid and caffeine intake, timed voiding, and pelvic floor exercises.^1,6 If patients do not experience improvement from conservative measures, the mainstay treatment for overactive bladder is antimuscarinic agents. However, in cisgender male patients who have a prostate, these agents can lead to urinary retention related to bladder outlet obstruction, although the rates of urinary retention are low.¹ Overall, these agents are relatively safe and effective in cisgender men with a prostate and by extension should be utilized in transfeminine patients when indicated.

In patients diagnosed with stress urinary incontinence, conservative options with weight loss, smoking cessation, and pelvic floor exercises should be attempted. If these measures fail in cisgender women, surgical treatment is often recommended. However, surgical treatment in transfeminine patients is significantly less straightforward and beyond the scope of this article.

Obstetrician/gynecologists are familiar with assessing and treating cisgender female patients reporting incontinence and should use this same knowledge for diagnosing and treating transfeminine patients. In addition, providers should be aware of complications of these procedures in evaluating patients presenting for symptoms of incontinence, as these complications directly contribute to incontinence in this patient population.¹

^{Dr. Brandt is an ob.gyn. and fellowship-trained gender-affirming surgeon in West Reading, Pa. Email her at} [email protected] ^.

References

1. Ginzburg N. Care of transgender patients: Incontinence. In: Nikolavsky D, Blakley SA, eds. Urological Care for the Transgender Patient: A Comprehensive Guide. Syracuse, NY: Springer, 2021:203-17.

2. Hoebeke P et al. Eur Urol. 2005;47(3):398-402.

3. Kuhn A et al. Fertil Steril. 2011;95(7):2379-82.

4. Kuhn A et al. Eur J Obstet Gynecol Reprod Biol. 2007;131(2):226-30.

5. Winters JC et al. J Urol. 2012;188(6s):2464-72.

6. Practice Bulletin No. 155. American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. Obstet Gynecol 2015;126:e66-81.

Whether your patient is a cisgender female or a transfeminine patient, urinary incontinence is unfortunately common and can have a significant negative effect on a person’s quality of life. While the incidence of incontinence is relatively well established in the cisgender population, these statistics remain elusive among transfeminine individuals. Many studies today currently examine cosmetic results, sexual function, and major complications rates, and are now starting to explore the long-term effects of these surgeries on the urinary tract.¹

As gender-affirming surgery increases in prevalence, our knowledge regarding long-term outcomes impacting quality of life needs to subsequently improve. A few small studies have examined the rates of incontinence and urinary dysfunction among transfeminine patients. In one study, changes in voiding were reported in 32% of patients, with 19% reporting worse voiding and 19% reporting some degree of incontinence.² A small series of 52 transgender female patients found rates of urinary urgency to be 24.6% and stress incontinence 23%.^1,3 Another study of only 18 patients demonstrated a significant rate of incontinence at 33%, which was due to stress urinary incontinence and overactive bladder.^1,4 Other studies noted postvoid dribbling to be as high as 79%.^1,2

Obtaining a thorough history is essential in evaluating patients with incontinence. Compared with cisgender females, risk factors for urinary incontinence in cisgender males are naturally different. For example, increasing age, parity, vaginal delivery, history of hysterectomy, and obesity are some risk factors for incontinence in cisgender women.^1,6 However, in men, overall rates are lower and tend to be associated with factors such as a history of stroke, diabetes, and injury to the urethral sphincter – which can occur in radical prostatectomy.¹

In addition to asking standard questions, such as caffeine use, beverage consumption, medication changes, physical activity, etc., the relationship of a patient’s symptoms to her vaginoplasty is crucial. Providers should elucidate whether patients experienced urinary symptoms prior to surgery, note the type of vaginoplasty performed, and determine if any temporal relationship exists with dilation or intercourse.

Communicating with the original surgeon and obtaining operative reports is often necessary to understand the flaps utilized and the current anatomic structures that were altered during surgery. Creation of the neovagina involves dissection through the levator ani, which can lead to neurologic injury and subsequently predispose patients to incontinence. The surgeon must be meticulous in their creation of the neovaginal space, particularly between the rectum and the prostatic urethra. As the dissection continues in a cephalad direction to the peritoneal reflection, the bladder can also suffer an iatrogenic injury.

In cases of the penile inversion vaginoplasty, a skin graft is typically used to line the neovaginal canal. If this graft fails to take appropriately it can prolapse and can contribute to urinary incontinence symptoms. Some surgeons will suspend the apical portion of the neovagina; however, the effect on rates of incontinence is mixed.

The physical exam of a transfeminine patient should consist of a general health assessment, neurological, abdominal, and genitourinary examinations. Palpation of the prostate is performed through the neovaginal canal if patent. During the urinary exam, the provider should make note of stenosis at the urethral meatus or urethral hypermobility. For patients reporting symptoms of stress incontinence, a cough stress test is useful. The neovagina should be carefully examined for fistula formation or any other structural abnormality.

Testing for urinary incontinence is similar to the evaluation in cisgender females in that every patient should undergo a urinalysis and a postvoid residual volume measurement, and should maintain a voiding diary. Indications for urodynamic testing are the same for transfeminine women and cisgender women – symptoms do not correlate with objective findings, failure to improve with treatment, prior incontinence from pelvic floor surgery, difficult diagnostic evaluation with unclear diagnosis.^5,6 Cystoscopy is useful for patients experiencing hematuria, before anti-incontinence surgery, or prior to transurethral prostate intervention.¹

Treatment is tailored to the type of incontinence diagnosed; however, there are no specific guidelines that are evidence-based for transfeminine patients after vaginoplasty. The therapies available are extrapolated from the general patient population. All patients can benefit from dietary modifications such as avoiding bladder irritants, monitoring fluid and caffeine intake, timed voiding, and pelvic floor exercises.^1,6 If patients do not experience improvement from conservative measures, the mainstay treatment for overactive bladder is antimuscarinic agents. However, in cisgender male patients who have a prostate, these agents can lead to urinary retention related to bladder outlet obstruction, although the rates of urinary retention are low.¹ Overall, these agents are relatively safe and effective in cisgender men with a prostate and by extension should be utilized in transfeminine patients when indicated.

In patients diagnosed with stress urinary incontinence, conservative options with weight loss, smoking cessation, and pelvic floor exercises should be attempted. If these measures fail in cisgender women, surgical treatment is often recommended. However, surgical treatment in transfeminine patients is significantly less straightforward and beyond the scope of this article.

Obstetrician/gynecologists are familiar with assessing and treating cisgender female patients reporting incontinence and should use this same knowledge for diagnosing and treating transfeminine patients. In addition, providers should be aware of complications of these procedures in evaluating patients presenting for symptoms of incontinence, as these complications directly contribute to incontinence in this patient population.¹

^{Dr. Brandt is an ob.gyn. and fellowship-trained gender-affirming surgeon in West Reading, Pa. Email her at} [email protected] ^.

References

1. Ginzburg N. Care of transgender patients: Incontinence. In: Nikolavsky D, Blakley SA, eds. Urological Care for the Transgender Patient: A Comprehensive Guide. Syracuse, NY: Springer, 2021:203-17.

2. Hoebeke P et al. Eur Urol. 2005;47(3):398-402.

3. Kuhn A et al. Fertil Steril. 2011;95(7):2379-82.

4. Kuhn A et al. Eur J Obstet Gynecol Reprod Biol. 2007;131(2):226-30.

5. Winters JC et al. J Urol. 2012;188(6s):2464-72.

6. Practice Bulletin No. 155. American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. Obstet Gynecol 2015;126:e66-81.

Whether your patient is a cisgender female or a transfeminine patient, urinary incontinence is unfortunately common and can have a significant negative effect on a person’s quality of life. While the incidence of incontinence is relatively well established in the cisgender population, these statistics remain elusive among transfeminine individuals. Many studies today currently examine cosmetic results, sexual function, and major complications rates, and are now starting to explore the long-term effects of these surgeries on the urinary tract.¹

As gender-affirming surgery increases in prevalence, our knowledge regarding long-term outcomes impacting quality of life needs to subsequently improve. A few small studies have examined the rates of incontinence and urinary dysfunction among transfeminine patients. In one study, changes in voiding were reported in 32% of patients, with 19% reporting worse voiding and 19% reporting some degree of incontinence.² A small series of 52 transgender female patients found rates of urinary urgency to be 24.6% and stress incontinence 23%.^1,3 Another study of only 18 patients demonstrated a significant rate of incontinence at 33%, which was due to stress urinary incontinence and overactive bladder.^1,4 Other studies noted postvoid dribbling to be as high as 79%.^1,2

Obtaining a thorough history is essential in evaluating patients with incontinence. Compared with cisgender females, risk factors for urinary incontinence in cisgender males are naturally different. For example, increasing age, parity, vaginal delivery, history of hysterectomy, and obesity are some risk factors for incontinence in cisgender women.^1,6 However, in men, overall rates are lower and tend to be associated with factors such as a history of stroke, diabetes, and injury to the urethral sphincter – which can occur in radical prostatectomy.¹

In addition to asking standard questions, such as caffeine use, beverage consumption, medication changes, physical activity, etc., the relationship of a patient’s symptoms to her vaginoplasty is crucial. Providers should elucidate whether patients experienced urinary symptoms prior to surgery, note the type of vaginoplasty performed, and determine if any temporal relationship exists with dilation or intercourse.

Communicating with the original surgeon and obtaining operative reports is often necessary to understand the flaps utilized and the current anatomic structures that were altered during surgery. Creation of the neovagina involves dissection through the levator ani, which can lead to neurologic injury and subsequently predispose patients to incontinence. The surgeon must be meticulous in their creation of the neovaginal space, particularly between the rectum and the prostatic urethra. As the dissection continues in a cephalad direction to the peritoneal reflection, the bladder can also suffer an iatrogenic injury.

In cases of the penile inversion vaginoplasty, a skin graft is typically used to line the neovaginal canal. If this graft fails to take appropriately it can prolapse and can contribute to urinary incontinence symptoms. Some surgeons will suspend the apical portion of the neovagina; however, the effect on rates of incontinence is mixed.

The physical exam of a transfeminine patient should consist of a general health assessment, neurological, abdominal, and genitourinary examinations. Palpation of the prostate is performed through the neovaginal canal if patent. During the urinary exam, the provider should make note of stenosis at the urethral meatus or urethral hypermobility. For patients reporting symptoms of stress incontinence, a cough stress test is useful. The neovagina should be carefully examined for fistula formation or any other structural abnormality.

Testing for urinary incontinence is similar to the evaluation in cisgender females in that every patient should undergo a urinalysis and a postvoid residual volume measurement, and should maintain a voiding diary. Indications for urodynamic testing are the same for transfeminine women and cisgender women – symptoms do not correlate with objective findings, failure to improve with treatment, prior incontinence from pelvic floor surgery, difficult diagnostic evaluation with unclear diagnosis.^5,6 Cystoscopy is useful for patients experiencing hematuria, before anti-incontinence surgery, or prior to transurethral prostate intervention.¹

Treatment is tailored to the type of incontinence diagnosed; however, there are no specific guidelines that are evidence-based for transfeminine patients after vaginoplasty. The therapies available are extrapolated from the general patient population. All patients can benefit from dietary modifications such as avoiding bladder irritants, monitoring fluid and caffeine intake, timed voiding, and pelvic floor exercises.^1,6 If patients do not experience improvement from conservative measures, the mainstay treatment for overactive bladder is antimuscarinic agents. However, in cisgender male patients who have a prostate, these agents can lead to urinary retention related to bladder outlet obstruction, although the rates of urinary retention are low.¹ Overall, these agents are relatively safe and effective in cisgender men with a prostate and by extension should be utilized in transfeminine patients when indicated.

In patients diagnosed with stress urinary incontinence, conservative options with weight loss, smoking cessation, and pelvic floor exercises should be attempted. If these measures fail in cisgender women, surgical treatment is often recommended. However, surgical treatment in transfeminine patients is significantly less straightforward and beyond the scope of this article.

Obstetrician/gynecologists are familiar with assessing and treating cisgender female patients reporting incontinence and should use this same knowledge for diagnosing and treating transfeminine patients. In addition, providers should be aware of complications of these procedures in evaluating patients presenting for symptoms of incontinence, as these complications directly contribute to incontinence in this patient population.¹

^{Dr. Brandt is an ob.gyn. and fellowship-trained gender-affirming surgeon in West Reading, Pa. Email her at} [email protected] ^.

References

1. Ginzburg N. Care of transgender patients: Incontinence. In: Nikolavsky D, Blakley SA, eds. Urological Care for the Transgender Patient: A Comprehensive Guide. Syracuse, NY: Springer, 2021:203-17.

2. Hoebeke P et al. Eur Urol. 2005;47(3):398-402.

3. Kuhn A et al. Fertil Steril. 2011;95(7):2379-82.

4. Kuhn A et al. Eur J Obstet Gynecol Reprod Biol. 2007;131(2):226-30.

5. Winters JC et al. J Urol. 2012;188(6s):2464-72.

6. Practice Bulletin No. 155. American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. Obstet Gynecol 2015;126:e66-81.