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Letter to the Editor: Strengthening the relationships between transferring and accepting surgeons
“Nobody is happy when a patient needs to be transferred.” As the general surgery group who receives requests for transfer of patients to our tertiary care hospital, we understand and sympathize with many of the issues raised in Dr. Puls’ article (“Rural Surgery – A view from the front lines” ‘I need to transfer this patient,” ACS Surgery News, September 2018, p. 7).
There is no doubt that sometimes patients benefit from support only available at a tertiary care center. The need can be for subspeciality surgical expertise, but many times it is driven by other available hospital-level support (critical care, interventional radiology, etc.).
Transfers are time consuming for physicians on both ends – while referring physicians have the responsibility of reaching out, accepting physicians have the responsibility of timely response to a request, regardless of other demands on their time and attention. We agree wholeheartedly with Dr. Puls’s argument that the phone call process “should not be delegated to the hospitalist or anyone else.” The benefit of speaking directly to the surgeon who has personally evaluated the patient cannot be overemphasized. When referrals for surgical care are initiated by the hospitalist or emergency department physician caring for a patient, there is almost always a lack of clarity around the surgical history, reason for transfer, and ongoing needs of the patient. It is our practice to request to speak to the surgeon who has evaluated and cared for the patient so we can fully understand the clinical course. It is the rare, typically life-threatening, situation in which we transfer patients without this crucial conversation.
Another crucial conversation, one in which the receiving physicians have room for improvement, is that of closing the loop after transfer. Dr. Puls recommended that there be periodic communication between the referring physician and the accepting physician, as well as closing the loop at the time the patient is discharged. There is a lack of “best practice” and infrastructure to support this work in many institutions, including ours, in part complicated by the variable EHRs utilized by individual hospitals. We believe the burden of this communication is shared by both parties and critical to optimal patient outcomes. At our hospital, we are currently working on standardizing this process and hope it will continue to strengthen the relationships we are building with our community surgeons.
At the end of the day, referring physicians and accepting physicians should function as team members with a shared goal – to always provide excellent surgical care to patients, by optimally matching patient needs with appropriate resources. or this reason, we disagree with Dr. Puls’ statement that “accepting physicians at larger hospitals should be treated like gold.” The work of “networking” should not be placed solely on the shoulders of rural surgeons. We believe it is best practice for the tertiary care hospital team to visit their community hospitals to better understand their resources, rather than the other way around. The Atrium Health National Surgical Quality Improvement Program Collaborative has been a valuable platform for making these connections for hospitals within our system and provides infrastructure for ongoing collaboration. Surgeons at tertiary care centers should also make themselves available for phone consultation for the complicated patient for whom a surgeon may simply need a second opinion. Not all “transfer calls” result in a transfer, and if both parties agree that the patient can continue to receive the same care at the local hospital that is often in his or her best interest.
Strengthening relationships with our community surgeons will allow surgeons at tertiary care centers to partner with them to optimally match patient needs to available resources. We truly appreciate our referring surgeons and thank them for the incredible work they do in serving our communities. Without their care on the front lines, we would not be able to provide the complex care and support to patients who need it most.
I very much appreciate the comments made by Drs. Reinke, Matthews, Paton, and Schiffern of the Carolinas Medical Center, Atrium Health, regarding my commentary on a rural surgeon’s take on transferring patients. They have provided the important perspective of the surgeon at a tertiary care center accepting a transferred patient. They also point out some of the important responsibilities that accepting surgeons have regarding the patient transfer process. If all tertiary facilities had the philosophy described by Drs. Reinke, Matthews, Paton, and Schiffern regarding patient transfers, many more patients would benefit
I agree that more easily arranged phone consultations between a rural surgeon and a tertiary surgeon regarding the need for a potential patient transfer would be helpful. Sometimes the simple reassurance from a tertiary care surgeon that the rural surgeon is doing the right thing, and the comfort the patient and his/her family derives from knowing that their surgeon has spoken with a surgeon at a tertiary care center, can be enough to prevent the need for an immediate transfer.
I also agree that “closing the loop” after a transfer is an important responsibility of both the transferring surgeon and the accepting surgeon. This is difficult partly because everyone is busy, but also because of factors such as the incompatibility of EHRs. Perhaps if part of the transfer process involved the transferring surgeon and accepting surgeon exchanging cell phone numbers and email addresses, then a quick phone call, text, or email every couple of days could help to “close the loop.
I accept their mild criticism of my statement that “accepting physicians at larger hospitals should be treated like gold” since they really are saying that there is a shared responsibility between tertiary care surgeons and rural surgeons to develop relationships that allow for the optimal care of transferred patients. I couldn’t agree more with their statement that “referring physicians and accepting physicians should function as team members with a shared goal – to always provide excellent surgical care to patients.” When we do this, we are treating the patient like gold, which is our ultimate objective.
Mark Puls, MD, FACS, is a general surgeon in Alpena, Mich. He serves as vice chair of the ACS Advisory Council for Rural Surgery. octor’s Name and Bio
I very much appreciate the comments made by Drs. Reinke, Matthews, Paton, and Schiffern of the Carolinas Medical Center, Atrium Health, regarding my commentary on a rural surgeon’s take on transferring patients. They have provided the important perspective of the surgeon at a tertiary care center accepting a transferred patient. They also point out some of the important responsibilities that accepting surgeons have regarding the patient transfer process. If all tertiary facilities had the philosophy described by Drs. Reinke, Matthews, Paton, and Schiffern regarding patient transfers, many more patients would benefit
I agree that more easily arranged phone consultations between a rural surgeon and a tertiary surgeon regarding the need for a potential patient transfer would be helpful. Sometimes the simple reassurance from a tertiary care surgeon that the rural surgeon is doing the right thing, and the comfort the patient and his/her family derives from knowing that their surgeon has spoken with a surgeon at a tertiary care center, can be enough to prevent the need for an immediate transfer.
I also agree that “closing the loop” after a transfer is an important responsibility of both the transferring surgeon and the accepting surgeon. This is difficult partly because everyone is busy, but also because of factors such as the incompatibility of EHRs. Perhaps if part of the transfer process involved the transferring surgeon and accepting surgeon exchanging cell phone numbers and email addresses, then a quick phone call, text, or email every couple of days could help to “close the loop.
I accept their mild criticism of my statement that “accepting physicians at larger hospitals should be treated like gold” since they really are saying that there is a shared responsibility between tertiary care surgeons and rural surgeons to develop relationships that allow for the optimal care of transferred patients. I couldn’t agree more with their statement that “referring physicians and accepting physicians should function as team members with a shared goal – to always provide excellent surgical care to patients.” When we do this, we are treating the patient like gold, which is our ultimate objective.
Mark Puls, MD, FACS, is a general surgeon in Alpena, Mich. He serves as vice chair of the ACS Advisory Council for Rural Surgery. octor’s Name and Bio
I very much appreciate the comments made by Drs. Reinke, Matthews, Paton, and Schiffern of the Carolinas Medical Center, Atrium Health, regarding my commentary on a rural surgeon’s take on transferring patients. They have provided the important perspective of the surgeon at a tertiary care center accepting a transferred patient. They also point out some of the important responsibilities that accepting surgeons have regarding the patient transfer process. If all tertiary facilities had the philosophy described by Drs. Reinke, Matthews, Paton, and Schiffern regarding patient transfers, many more patients would benefit
I agree that more easily arranged phone consultations between a rural surgeon and a tertiary surgeon regarding the need for a potential patient transfer would be helpful. Sometimes the simple reassurance from a tertiary care surgeon that the rural surgeon is doing the right thing, and the comfort the patient and his/her family derives from knowing that their surgeon has spoken with a surgeon at a tertiary care center, can be enough to prevent the need for an immediate transfer.
I also agree that “closing the loop” after a transfer is an important responsibility of both the transferring surgeon and the accepting surgeon. This is difficult partly because everyone is busy, but also because of factors such as the incompatibility of EHRs. Perhaps if part of the transfer process involved the transferring surgeon and accepting surgeon exchanging cell phone numbers and email addresses, then a quick phone call, text, or email every couple of days could help to “close the loop.
I accept their mild criticism of my statement that “accepting physicians at larger hospitals should be treated like gold” since they really are saying that there is a shared responsibility between tertiary care surgeons and rural surgeons to develop relationships that allow for the optimal care of transferred patients. I couldn’t agree more with their statement that “referring physicians and accepting physicians should function as team members with a shared goal – to always provide excellent surgical care to patients.” When we do this, we are treating the patient like gold, which is our ultimate objective.
Mark Puls, MD, FACS, is a general surgeon in Alpena, Mich. He serves as vice chair of the ACS Advisory Council for Rural Surgery. octor’s Name and Bio
“Nobody is happy when a patient needs to be transferred.” As the general surgery group who receives requests for transfer of patients to our tertiary care hospital, we understand and sympathize with many of the issues raised in Dr. Puls’ article (“Rural Surgery – A view from the front lines” ‘I need to transfer this patient,” ACS Surgery News, September 2018, p. 7).
There is no doubt that sometimes patients benefit from support only available at a tertiary care center. The need can be for subspeciality surgical expertise, but many times it is driven by other available hospital-level support (critical care, interventional radiology, etc.).
Transfers are time consuming for physicians on both ends – while referring physicians have the responsibility of reaching out, accepting physicians have the responsibility of timely response to a request, regardless of other demands on their time and attention. We agree wholeheartedly with Dr. Puls’s argument that the phone call process “should not be delegated to the hospitalist or anyone else.” The benefit of speaking directly to the surgeon who has personally evaluated the patient cannot be overemphasized. When referrals for surgical care are initiated by the hospitalist or emergency department physician caring for a patient, there is almost always a lack of clarity around the surgical history, reason for transfer, and ongoing needs of the patient. It is our practice to request to speak to the surgeon who has evaluated and cared for the patient so we can fully understand the clinical course. It is the rare, typically life-threatening, situation in which we transfer patients without this crucial conversation.
Another crucial conversation, one in which the receiving physicians have room for improvement, is that of closing the loop after transfer. Dr. Puls recommended that there be periodic communication between the referring physician and the accepting physician, as well as closing the loop at the time the patient is discharged. There is a lack of “best practice” and infrastructure to support this work in many institutions, including ours, in part complicated by the variable EHRs utilized by individual hospitals. We believe the burden of this communication is shared by both parties and critical to optimal patient outcomes. At our hospital, we are currently working on standardizing this process and hope it will continue to strengthen the relationships we are building with our community surgeons.
At the end of the day, referring physicians and accepting physicians should function as team members with a shared goal – to always provide excellent surgical care to patients, by optimally matching patient needs with appropriate resources. or this reason, we disagree with Dr. Puls’ statement that “accepting physicians at larger hospitals should be treated like gold.” The work of “networking” should not be placed solely on the shoulders of rural surgeons. We believe it is best practice for the tertiary care hospital team to visit their community hospitals to better understand their resources, rather than the other way around. The Atrium Health National Surgical Quality Improvement Program Collaborative has been a valuable platform for making these connections for hospitals within our system and provides infrastructure for ongoing collaboration. Surgeons at tertiary care centers should also make themselves available for phone consultation for the complicated patient for whom a surgeon may simply need a second opinion. Not all “transfer calls” result in a transfer, and if both parties agree that the patient can continue to receive the same care at the local hospital that is often in his or her best interest.
Strengthening relationships with our community surgeons will allow surgeons at tertiary care centers to partner with them to optimally match patient needs to available resources. We truly appreciate our referring surgeons and thank them for the incredible work they do in serving our communities. Without their care on the front lines, we would not be able to provide the complex care and support to patients who need it most.
“Nobody is happy when a patient needs to be transferred.” As the general surgery group who receives requests for transfer of patients to our tertiary care hospital, we understand and sympathize with many of the issues raised in Dr. Puls’ article (“Rural Surgery – A view from the front lines” ‘I need to transfer this patient,” ACS Surgery News, September 2018, p. 7).
There is no doubt that sometimes patients benefit from support only available at a tertiary care center. The need can be for subspeciality surgical expertise, but many times it is driven by other available hospital-level support (critical care, interventional radiology, etc.).
Transfers are time consuming for physicians on both ends – while referring physicians have the responsibility of reaching out, accepting physicians have the responsibility of timely response to a request, regardless of other demands on their time and attention. We agree wholeheartedly with Dr. Puls’s argument that the phone call process “should not be delegated to the hospitalist or anyone else.” The benefit of speaking directly to the surgeon who has personally evaluated the patient cannot be overemphasized. When referrals for surgical care are initiated by the hospitalist or emergency department physician caring for a patient, there is almost always a lack of clarity around the surgical history, reason for transfer, and ongoing needs of the patient. It is our practice to request to speak to the surgeon who has evaluated and cared for the patient so we can fully understand the clinical course. It is the rare, typically life-threatening, situation in which we transfer patients without this crucial conversation.
Another crucial conversation, one in which the receiving physicians have room for improvement, is that of closing the loop after transfer. Dr. Puls recommended that there be periodic communication between the referring physician and the accepting physician, as well as closing the loop at the time the patient is discharged. There is a lack of “best practice” and infrastructure to support this work in many institutions, including ours, in part complicated by the variable EHRs utilized by individual hospitals. We believe the burden of this communication is shared by both parties and critical to optimal patient outcomes. At our hospital, we are currently working on standardizing this process and hope it will continue to strengthen the relationships we are building with our community surgeons.
At the end of the day, referring physicians and accepting physicians should function as team members with a shared goal – to always provide excellent surgical care to patients, by optimally matching patient needs with appropriate resources. or this reason, we disagree with Dr. Puls’ statement that “accepting physicians at larger hospitals should be treated like gold.” The work of “networking” should not be placed solely on the shoulders of rural surgeons. We believe it is best practice for the tertiary care hospital team to visit their community hospitals to better understand their resources, rather than the other way around. The Atrium Health National Surgical Quality Improvement Program Collaborative has been a valuable platform for making these connections for hospitals within our system and provides infrastructure for ongoing collaboration. Surgeons at tertiary care centers should also make themselves available for phone consultation for the complicated patient for whom a surgeon may simply need a second opinion. Not all “transfer calls” result in a transfer, and if both parties agree that the patient can continue to receive the same care at the local hospital that is often in his or her best interest.
Strengthening relationships with our community surgeons will allow surgeons at tertiary care centers to partner with them to optimally match patient needs to available resources. We truly appreciate our referring surgeons and thank them for the incredible work they do in serving our communities. Without their care on the front lines, we would not be able to provide the complex care and support to patients who need it most.
The power of the turkey sandwich
A relatively high proportion of pediatric visits to the emergency department are related to psychiatric symptoms, oftentimes with suicidal or violent ideation.1 Given that pediatric emergencies related to psychiatric symptoms are on the increase, clinicians frequently are called to assess children and adolescents with symptoms of aggression and violence. Management of these cases can be tricky.
Case presentation
Henry is a 6-year-old boy with mild developmental delays and possible anxiety who was brought to the emergency department because of concerns on the bus. For about a month, Henry, who is repeating his kindergarten year, had been struggling with getting on and off the bus and with other transitions at school. These struggles had been attributed to anxiety. He was started on sertraline and the dose was increased about 2 weeks later. Soon thereafter he complained of stomach upset with the sertraline, refused to take the medicine, and had a very hard day at school. He required one-on-one attention for unsafe behavior most of that day, and he missed most of his lunch and recess. His school support team was able to get him onto the bus at the end of the day, but he refused to get off of the bus at home. He became violent with the bus driver, kicking and biting him until the police were called. The police called EMS and he was brought into the emergency department after fighting to get on the transport stretcher. He was eventually brought into a secure exam room in the emergency department, but was unable to be fully assessed because he would only make animal noises when approached. His father already had been called, but was unable to calm him down. The emergency department physician was unable to approach Henry because he began swinging at him as soon as the physician entered the room. An emergent psychiatric consultation was called to determine what medication to give to Henry to calm him down and to assess him for possible psychosis.
Case discussion
It sounds like Henry was having a severe tantrum exacerbated by a number of factors. First of all, this is a child who struggles with transitions. That day had been loaded with transitions, eventually leading him to be in an unfamiliar environment with many unfamiliar faces. Even the familiar face of his father wasn’t enough to help because he was overly stimulated and scared. Next, he was probably hungry. We know for certain that he missed lunch, and several hours into his presentation there were no breaks to deal with his basic needs. The first approach to assessment of aggressive behavior in the emergency setting is to try to care for the basic needs of the individual to deescalate the situation. Finally, he had recently been started on sertraline, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. He had been having some dyspepsia and/or nausea with the sertraline, leading to his having missed some doses. Some children and adolescents have a discontinuation syndrome, which can be more severe in younger children and with medications that have shorter half-lives.2 In Henry’s case, a missed dose or two can be enough to trigger this discontinuation response leading to more aggressive behavior.
Case follow-up
The child and adolescent psychiatrist called to the case received a history from the primary team. When he started to try to talk with the parent outside of the room, the child became upset. He was able to gather the information that Henry also had skipped breakfast. In an attempt to calm the patient down, the psychiatrist addressed Henry using a nonjudgmental, nonconfrontational, collaborative approach, incorporating play. Henry responded to this approach and allowed the psychiatrist to ask a few questions about basic needs, and admitted that he was hungry. He was offered a turkey sandwich, which was rapidly ingested. The tantrum slowly subsided. Within about 30 minutes (and with some more food), the child was able to sit on his parent’s lap and finish the interview. The decision was made to have him follow up with his primary care provider to change to an SSRI with a longer half-life, such as fluoxetine, as he did seem to be experiencing some discontinuation even after missing just a dose or two of sertraline.
When dealing with emergent, aggressive behavior, food isn’t always the best medicine, but sometimes it is. Environmental barriers to the child’s regaining control include hunger, thirst, a full bladder, constipation, or other pain. Attending to these issues first sometimes can help avoid sedating medications, which can prolong emergency visits and lead to unwelcome side effects.
Dr. Althoff is associate professor of psychiatry, psychology, and pediatrics at the University of Vermont, Burlington. He is director of the division of behavioral genetics and conducts research on the development of self-regulation in children. Email him at [email protected].
References
1. Pediatrics. 2011 May;127(5):e1356-66.
2. J Can Acad Child Adolesc Psychiatry. 2011 Feb;20(1):60-7.
A relatively high proportion of pediatric visits to the emergency department are related to psychiatric symptoms, oftentimes with suicidal or violent ideation.1 Given that pediatric emergencies related to psychiatric symptoms are on the increase, clinicians frequently are called to assess children and adolescents with symptoms of aggression and violence. Management of these cases can be tricky.
Case presentation
Henry is a 6-year-old boy with mild developmental delays and possible anxiety who was brought to the emergency department because of concerns on the bus. For about a month, Henry, who is repeating his kindergarten year, had been struggling with getting on and off the bus and with other transitions at school. These struggles had been attributed to anxiety. He was started on sertraline and the dose was increased about 2 weeks later. Soon thereafter he complained of stomach upset with the sertraline, refused to take the medicine, and had a very hard day at school. He required one-on-one attention for unsafe behavior most of that day, and he missed most of his lunch and recess. His school support team was able to get him onto the bus at the end of the day, but he refused to get off of the bus at home. He became violent with the bus driver, kicking and biting him until the police were called. The police called EMS and he was brought into the emergency department after fighting to get on the transport stretcher. He was eventually brought into a secure exam room in the emergency department, but was unable to be fully assessed because he would only make animal noises when approached. His father already had been called, but was unable to calm him down. The emergency department physician was unable to approach Henry because he began swinging at him as soon as the physician entered the room. An emergent psychiatric consultation was called to determine what medication to give to Henry to calm him down and to assess him for possible psychosis.
Case discussion
It sounds like Henry was having a severe tantrum exacerbated by a number of factors. First of all, this is a child who struggles with transitions. That day had been loaded with transitions, eventually leading him to be in an unfamiliar environment with many unfamiliar faces. Even the familiar face of his father wasn’t enough to help because he was overly stimulated and scared. Next, he was probably hungry. We know for certain that he missed lunch, and several hours into his presentation there were no breaks to deal with his basic needs. The first approach to assessment of aggressive behavior in the emergency setting is to try to care for the basic needs of the individual to deescalate the situation. Finally, he had recently been started on sertraline, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. He had been having some dyspepsia and/or nausea with the sertraline, leading to his having missed some doses. Some children and adolescents have a discontinuation syndrome, which can be more severe in younger children and with medications that have shorter half-lives.2 In Henry’s case, a missed dose or two can be enough to trigger this discontinuation response leading to more aggressive behavior.
Case follow-up
The child and adolescent psychiatrist called to the case received a history from the primary team. When he started to try to talk with the parent outside of the room, the child became upset. He was able to gather the information that Henry also had skipped breakfast. In an attempt to calm the patient down, the psychiatrist addressed Henry using a nonjudgmental, nonconfrontational, collaborative approach, incorporating play. Henry responded to this approach and allowed the psychiatrist to ask a few questions about basic needs, and admitted that he was hungry. He was offered a turkey sandwich, which was rapidly ingested. The tantrum slowly subsided. Within about 30 minutes (and with some more food), the child was able to sit on his parent’s lap and finish the interview. The decision was made to have him follow up with his primary care provider to change to an SSRI with a longer half-life, such as fluoxetine, as he did seem to be experiencing some discontinuation even after missing just a dose or two of sertraline.
When dealing with emergent, aggressive behavior, food isn’t always the best medicine, but sometimes it is. Environmental barriers to the child’s regaining control include hunger, thirst, a full bladder, constipation, or other pain. Attending to these issues first sometimes can help avoid sedating medications, which can prolong emergency visits and lead to unwelcome side effects.
Dr. Althoff is associate professor of psychiatry, psychology, and pediatrics at the University of Vermont, Burlington. He is director of the division of behavioral genetics and conducts research on the development of self-regulation in children. Email him at [email protected].
References
1. Pediatrics. 2011 May;127(5):e1356-66.
2. J Can Acad Child Adolesc Psychiatry. 2011 Feb;20(1):60-7.
A relatively high proportion of pediatric visits to the emergency department are related to psychiatric symptoms, oftentimes with suicidal or violent ideation.1 Given that pediatric emergencies related to psychiatric symptoms are on the increase, clinicians frequently are called to assess children and adolescents with symptoms of aggression and violence. Management of these cases can be tricky.
Case presentation
Henry is a 6-year-old boy with mild developmental delays and possible anxiety who was brought to the emergency department because of concerns on the bus. For about a month, Henry, who is repeating his kindergarten year, had been struggling with getting on and off the bus and with other transitions at school. These struggles had been attributed to anxiety. He was started on sertraline and the dose was increased about 2 weeks later. Soon thereafter he complained of stomach upset with the sertraline, refused to take the medicine, and had a very hard day at school. He required one-on-one attention for unsafe behavior most of that day, and he missed most of his lunch and recess. His school support team was able to get him onto the bus at the end of the day, but he refused to get off of the bus at home. He became violent with the bus driver, kicking and biting him until the police were called. The police called EMS and he was brought into the emergency department after fighting to get on the transport stretcher. He was eventually brought into a secure exam room in the emergency department, but was unable to be fully assessed because he would only make animal noises when approached. His father already had been called, but was unable to calm him down. The emergency department physician was unable to approach Henry because he began swinging at him as soon as the physician entered the room. An emergent psychiatric consultation was called to determine what medication to give to Henry to calm him down and to assess him for possible psychosis.
Case discussion
It sounds like Henry was having a severe tantrum exacerbated by a number of factors. First of all, this is a child who struggles with transitions. That day had been loaded with transitions, eventually leading him to be in an unfamiliar environment with many unfamiliar faces. Even the familiar face of his father wasn’t enough to help because he was overly stimulated and scared. Next, he was probably hungry. We know for certain that he missed lunch, and several hours into his presentation there were no breaks to deal with his basic needs. The first approach to assessment of aggressive behavior in the emergency setting is to try to care for the basic needs of the individual to deescalate the situation. Finally, he had recently been started on sertraline, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. He had been having some dyspepsia and/or nausea with the sertraline, leading to his having missed some doses. Some children and adolescents have a discontinuation syndrome, which can be more severe in younger children and with medications that have shorter half-lives.2 In Henry’s case, a missed dose or two can be enough to trigger this discontinuation response leading to more aggressive behavior.
Case follow-up
The child and adolescent psychiatrist called to the case received a history from the primary team. When he started to try to talk with the parent outside of the room, the child became upset. He was able to gather the information that Henry also had skipped breakfast. In an attempt to calm the patient down, the psychiatrist addressed Henry using a nonjudgmental, nonconfrontational, collaborative approach, incorporating play. Henry responded to this approach and allowed the psychiatrist to ask a few questions about basic needs, and admitted that he was hungry. He was offered a turkey sandwich, which was rapidly ingested. The tantrum slowly subsided. Within about 30 minutes (and with some more food), the child was able to sit on his parent’s lap and finish the interview. The decision was made to have him follow up with his primary care provider to change to an SSRI with a longer half-life, such as fluoxetine, as he did seem to be experiencing some discontinuation even after missing just a dose or two of sertraline.
When dealing with emergent, aggressive behavior, food isn’t always the best medicine, but sometimes it is. Environmental barriers to the child’s regaining control include hunger, thirst, a full bladder, constipation, or other pain. Attending to these issues first sometimes can help avoid sedating medications, which can prolong emergency visits and lead to unwelcome side effects.
Dr. Althoff is associate professor of psychiatry, psychology, and pediatrics at the University of Vermont, Burlington. He is director of the division of behavioral genetics and conducts research on the development of self-regulation in children. Email him at [email protected].
References
1. Pediatrics. 2011 May;127(5):e1356-66.
2. J Can Acad Child Adolesc Psychiatry. 2011 Feb;20(1):60-7.
Developing essential skills at all career stages
SHM Leadership Academy continues to grow
This fall I attended the 2018 Society of Hospital Medicine Leadership Academy, held in Vancouver. Once again, this conference sold out weeks ahead of time, and 300 hospitalists took time out of their busy schedules for learning and fun. There have been about 18 Leadership Academies over the years, with approximately 3,000 total participants, but this one may have been the best to date.
Why was it so good? Here are my top four reasons that Leadership Academy 2018 was the best ever:
Setting: Vancouver is just beautiful. My family has a strong maritime background, and I am a water person with saltwater in my veins. My inner sailor was overjoyed with the hotel’s views of False Creek and Vancouver Harbor, and I loved the mix of yachts and working boats. I even saw a seaplane! The hotel was a great match for the 300 hospitalists who traveled to the JW Marriott for 4 days of learning and relaxing. It was the perfect blend, whether for work or play; the hotel and city did not disappoint.
Networking: What’s more fun than getting to know 300 like-minded, leadership-oriented hospitalists for a few days? I am always energized by seeing old friends and making new ones. I really enjoy hearing about the professional adventures hospitalists at all career points are going through. Plus, I get really good advice on my own career! I also appreciate that a number of hospital medicine leaders (and even giants) come to SHM’s Leadership Academy. Over half of the SHM Board of Directors were there, as were a number of current and previous SHM presidents (Mark Williams, Jeff Wiese, Burke Kealey, Bob Harrington, Nasim Afsar, Rusty Holman, Ron Greeno, Chris Frost, and John Nelson), as well as Larry Wellikson, the CEO who has led our society through its many successes. All of these hospitalist leaders are there, having fun and networking, alongside everyone else.
Faculty: The faculty for all four courses (yes, Leadership Academy junkies, we’ve added a fourth course!) are absolutely phenomenal. I think the faculty are just the right blend of expert hospitalists (Jeff Glasheen, Rusty Holman, Jeff Wiese, Mark Williams, John Nelson) and national experts outside of hospital medicine. For example, Lenny Marcus of Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, Boston, brings his experience coaching the Department of Defense, the White House, the Department of Homeland Security, and many others to the Influential Management and Mastering Teamwork courses. Lenny’s experience working with national leaders through disasters like the Boston Marathon bombing, Hurricane Katrina, and the Ebola outbreak make for more than riveting stories; there are real, tangible lessons for hospitalist leaders trying to improve clinical care. Nancy Spector is a pediatrician, nationally recognized for her work in mentoring, and is the executive director of Drexel University’s Executive Leadership in Academic Medicine. We have been fortunate to have her join the Academies, and Nancy successfully led the first group of hospitalists through the launch of SHM’s fourth leadership course, which I will describe in more detail below.
High energy & continued growth: There continues to be an enormous amount of energy around the Leadership Academy. The Vancouver courses sold out months ahead of the actual meeting! Hospitalists across the country continue to take on leadership roles and have told us that they value the skills they have learned from the courses.
Hospitalist leaders want more
In addition to the current 4-day courses (Strategic Essentials, Influential Management, and Mastering Teamwork), hospitalists are looking for a course that continues skill building once they return home.
That’s why SHM has developed a fourth Leadership Academy course. This course, called the Capstone Course, was launched in Vancouver and consists of 2 days of on-site skill development and team building (during the first 2 days of the traditional Leadership Academy) and 6 months of a longitudinal learning collaborative. The six-month learning collaborative component consists of a learning “pod” of five or six fellow hospitalists and monthly virtual meetings around crucial leadership topics. They are facilitated by an experienced Leadership Academy facilitator.
Dr. Spector is the lead faculty; her expertise made the Capstone launch a huge success. She will work with SHM and the Capstone participants throughout the entire 6 months to ensure the Capstone course is as high-quality as the previous three Academy courses.
If you haven’t been, I invite you to attend our next Leadership Academy. Over the years, despite being course director, I have learned many take-home skills from colleagues and leaders in the field that I use often. Just to name a few:
- Flexing my communications style: Tim Keogh’s lecture opened my eyes to the fact that not everyone is a data-driven introvert. I now know that some people need a social warm up, while others just want the facts, and that there are “huggers and shakers.” (In summary, it’s fine to shake hands with a hugger, but be wary of hugging a shaker.)
- I send birthday emails after I heard Jeff Wiese’s talk.
- Lenny Marcus taught me to be aware when I am “in the basement” emotionally. I now know to wait to send emails or confront others until I can get out of the basement.
And that’s just scratching the surface!
In closing, the Vancouver Leadership Academy was fantastic. Good friends, great professional development, a setting that was amazing, and an Academy that remains relevant and dynamic to our specialty. I can’t wait to see how the 2019 Leadership Academy shapes up for its debut in Nashville. My inner sailor may have to give way to my inner musician! I hope to see you and 300 of my closest friends there.
Learn more about SHM’s Leadership Academy at shmleadershipacademy.org.
Dr. Howell is a professor of medicine at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, and chief of the division of hospital medicine at Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center. He is also chief operating officer at the Society of Hospital Medicine and course director of the SHM Leadership Academy.
SHM Leadership Academy continues to grow
SHM Leadership Academy continues to grow
This fall I attended the 2018 Society of Hospital Medicine Leadership Academy, held in Vancouver. Once again, this conference sold out weeks ahead of time, and 300 hospitalists took time out of their busy schedules for learning and fun. There have been about 18 Leadership Academies over the years, with approximately 3,000 total participants, but this one may have been the best to date.
Why was it so good? Here are my top four reasons that Leadership Academy 2018 was the best ever:
Setting: Vancouver is just beautiful. My family has a strong maritime background, and I am a water person with saltwater in my veins. My inner sailor was overjoyed with the hotel’s views of False Creek and Vancouver Harbor, and I loved the mix of yachts and working boats. I even saw a seaplane! The hotel was a great match for the 300 hospitalists who traveled to the JW Marriott for 4 days of learning and relaxing. It was the perfect blend, whether for work or play; the hotel and city did not disappoint.
Networking: What’s more fun than getting to know 300 like-minded, leadership-oriented hospitalists for a few days? I am always energized by seeing old friends and making new ones. I really enjoy hearing about the professional adventures hospitalists at all career points are going through. Plus, I get really good advice on my own career! I also appreciate that a number of hospital medicine leaders (and even giants) come to SHM’s Leadership Academy. Over half of the SHM Board of Directors were there, as were a number of current and previous SHM presidents (Mark Williams, Jeff Wiese, Burke Kealey, Bob Harrington, Nasim Afsar, Rusty Holman, Ron Greeno, Chris Frost, and John Nelson), as well as Larry Wellikson, the CEO who has led our society through its many successes. All of these hospitalist leaders are there, having fun and networking, alongside everyone else.
Faculty: The faculty for all four courses (yes, Leadership Academy junkies, we’ve added a fourth course!) are absolutely phenomenal. I think the faculty are just the right blend of expert hospitalists (Jeff Glasheen, Rusty Holman, Jeff Wiese, Mark Williams, John Nelson) and national experts outside of hospital medicine. For example, Lenny Marcus of Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, Boston, brings his experience coaching the Department of Defense, the White House, the Department of Homeland Security, and many others to the Influential Management and Mastering Teamwork courses. Lenny’s experience working with national leaders through disasters like the Boston Marathon bombing, Hurricane Katrina, and the Ebola outbreak make for more than riveting stories; there are real, tangible lessons for hospitalist leaders trying to improve clinical care. Nancy Spector is a pediatrician, nationally recognized for her work in mentoring, and is the executive director of Drexel University’s Executive Leadership in Academic Medicine. We have been fortunate to have her join the Academies, and Nancy successfully led the first group of hospitalists through the launch of SHM’s fourth leadership course, which I will describe in more detail below.
High energy & continued growth: There continues to be an enormous amount of energy around the Leadership Academy. The Vancouver courses sold out months ahead of the actual meeting! Hospitalists across the country continue to take on leadership roles and have told us that they value the skills they have learned from the courses.
Hospitalist leaders want more
In addition to the current 4-day courses (Strategic Essentials, Influential Management, and Mastering Teamwork), hospitalists are looking for a course that continues skill building once they return home.
That’s why SHM has developed a fourth Leadership Academy course. This course, called the Capstone Course, was launched in Vancouver and consists of 2 days of on-site skill development and team building (during the first 2 days of the traditional Leadership Academy) and 6 months of a longitudinal learning collaborative. The six-month learning collaborative component consists of a learning “pod” of five or six fellow hospitalists and monthly virtual meetings around crucial leadership topics. They are facilitated by an experienced Leadership Academy facilitator.
Dr. Spector is the lead faculty; her expertise made the Capstone launch a huge success. She will work with SHM and the Capstone participants throughout the entire 6 months to ensure the Capstone course is as high-quality as the previous three Academy courses.
If you haven’t been, I invite you to attend our next Leadership Academy. Over the years, despite being course director, I have learned many take-home skills from colleagues and leaders in the field that I use often. Just to name a few:
- Flexing my communications style: Tim Keogh’s lecture opened my eyes to the fact that not everyone is a data-driven introvert. I now know that some people need a social warm up, while others just want the facts, and that there are “huggers and shakers.” (In summary, it’s fine to shake hands with a hugger, but be wary of hugging a shaker.)
- I send birthday emails after I heard Jeff Wiese’s talk.
- Lenny Marcus taught me to be aware when I am “in the basement” emotionally. I now know to wait to send emails or confront others until I can get out of the basement.
And that’s just scratching the surface!
In closing, the Vancouver Leadership Academy was fantastic. Good friends, great professional development, a setting that was amazing, and an Academy that remains relevant and dynamic to our specialty. I can’t wait to see how the 2019 Leadership Academy shapes up for its debut in Nashville. My inner sailor may have to give way to my inner musician! I hope to see you and 300 of my closest friends there.
Learn more about SHM’s Leadership Academy at shmleadershipacademy.org.
Dr. Howell is a professor of medicine at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, and chief of the division of hospital medicine at Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center. He is also chief operating officer at the Society of Hospital Medicine and course director of the SHM Leadership Academy.
This fall I attended the 2018 Society of Hospital Medicine Leadership Academy, held in Vancouver. Once again, this conference sold out weeks ahead of time, and 300 hospitalists took time out of their busy schedules for learning and fun. There have been about 18 Leadership Academies over the years, with approximately 3,000 total participants, but this one may have been the best to date.
Why was it so good? Here are my top four reasons that Leadership Academy 2018 was the best ever:
Setting: Vancouver is just beautiful. My family has a strong maritime background, and I am a water person with saltwater in my veins. My inner sailor was overjoyed with the hotel’s views of False Creek and Vancouver Harbor, and I loved the mix of yachts and working boats. I even saw a seaplane! The hotel was a great match for the 300 hospitalists who traveled to the JW Marriott for 4 days of learning and relaxing. It was the perfect blend, whether for work or play; the hotel and city did not disappoint.
Networking: What’s more fun than getting to know 300 like-minded, leadership-oriented hospitalists for a few days? I am always energized by seeing old friends and making new ones. I really enjoy hearing about the professional adventures hospitalists at all career points are going through. Plus, I get really good advice on my own career! I also appreciate that a number of hospital medicine leaders (and even giants) come to SHM’s Leadership Academy. Over half of the SHM Board of Directors were there, as were a number of current and previous SHM presidents (Mark Williams, Jeff Wiese, Burke Kealey, Bob Harrington, Nasim Afsar, Rusty Holman, Ron Greeno, Chris Frost, and John Nelson), as well as Larry Wellikson, the CEO who has led our society through its many successes. All of these hospitalist leaders are there, having fun and networking, alongside everyone else.
Faculty: The faculty for all four courses (yes, Leadership Academy junkies, we’ve added a fourth course!) are absolutely phenomenal. I think the faculty are just the right blend of expert hospitalists (Jeff Glasheen, Rusty Holman, Jeff Wiese, Mark Williams, John Nelson) and national experts outside of hospital medicine. For example, Lenny Marcus of Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, Boston, brings his experience coaching the Department of Defense, the White House, the Department of Homeland Security, and many others to the Influential Management and Mastering Teamwork courses. Lenny’s experience working with national leaders through disasters like the Boston Marathon bombing, Hurricane Katrina, and the Ebola outbreak make for more than riveting stories; there are real, tangible lessons for hospitalist leaders trying to improve clinical care. Nancy Spector is a pediatrician, nationally recognized for her work in mentoring, and is the executive director of Drexel University’s Executive Leadership in Academic Medicine. We have been fortunate to have her join the Academies, and Nancy successfully led the first group of hospitalists through the launch of SHM’s fourth leadership course, which I will describe in more detail below.
High energy & continued growth: There continues to be an enormous amount of energy around the Leadership Academy. The Vancouver courses sold out months ahead of the actual meeting! Hospitalists across the country continue to take on leadership roles and have told us that they value the skills they have learned from the courses.
Hospitalist leaders want more
In addition to the current 4-day courses (Strategic Essentials, Influential Management, and Mastering Teamwork), hospitalists are looking for a course that continues skill building once they return home.
That’s why SHM has developed a fourth Leadership Academy course. This course, called the Capstone Course, was launched in Vancouver and consists of 2 days of on-site skill development and team building (during the first 2 days of the traditional Leadership Academy) and 6 months of a longitudinal learning collaborative. The six-month learning collaborative component consists of a learning “pod” of five or six fellow hospitalists and monthly virtual meetings around crucial leadership topics. They are facilitated by an experienced Leadership Academy facilitator.
Dr. Spector is the lead faculty; her expertise made the Capstone launch a huge success. She will work with SHM and the Capstone participants throughout the entire 6 months to ensure the Capstone course is as high-quality as the previous three Academy courses.
If you haven’t been, I invite you to attend our next Leadership Academy. Over the years, despite being course director, I have learned many take-home skills from colleagues and leaders in the field that I use often. Just to name a few:
- Flexing my communications style: Tim Keogh’s lecture opened my eyes to the fact that not everyone is a data-driven introvert. I now know that some people need a social warm up, while others just want the facts, and that there are “huggers and shakers.” (In summary, it’s fine to shake hands with a hugger, but be wary of hugging a shaker.)
- I send birthday emails after I heard Jeff Wiese’s talk.
- Lenny Marcus taught me to be aware when I am “in the basement” emotionally. I now know to wait to send emails or confront others until I can get out of the basement.
And that’s just scratching the surface!
In closing, the Vancouver Leadership Academy was fantastic. Good friends, great professional development, a setting that was amazing, and an Academy that remains relevant and dynamic to our specialty. I can’t wait to see how the 2019 Leadership Academy shapes up for its debut in Nashville. My inner sailor may have to give way to my inner musician! I hope to see you and 300 of my closest friends there.
Learn more about SHM’s Leadership Academy at shmleadershipacademy.org.
Dr. Howell is a professor of medicine at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, and chief of the division of hospital medicine at Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center. He is also chief operating officer at the Society of Hospital Medicine and course director of the SHM Leadership Academy.
Ghost busting in pediatric primary care
As clinicians trained in the care of children, we have struggled in recent years with how much care is appropriate to provide to the parents of our young charges.
Gradual progression has occurred from recognizing postpartum depression as affecting infants, to recommending screening, to creation of a billing code for screening as “for the benefit of” the child, and increasingly even being paid for that code. We now see referral of depressed parents as within our scope of practice with the goal of protecting the child’s emotional development from the caregiver’s altered mental condition, as well as relieving the parent’s suffering. Some of us even provide treatment ourselves.
While the family history has been our standard way of assessing “transgenerational transmission” of risk for physical and mental health conditions, parenting practices are a more direct transmission threat, and one more amenable to our intervention.
Aversive parenting acts happen to many people growing up, but how the parent thinks about these seems to make the difference between consciously protecting the child from similar experiences or unconsciously playing them out in the child’s life. With 64% of U.S. adults reporting at least one adverse childhood experience (ACE), many of which were acts or omissions by their parents, we need to be vigilant to track their translation of past events, “the ghosts,” into present parenting.
Just ask
“I barely have time to talk about the child,” you may be saying, “how can I have time to dig into the parent’s issues, much less know what to do?” Exploring for connections to the parent’s past in primary care is most crucial when the parent-child relationship is strained, or the parent’s handling of typical or problematic child behaviors is abnormal, clinically symptomatic, or dangerous. Nonetheless, helping all parents make these connections enriches life and meaning for families, and dramatically strengthens the doctor-family relationship. Then all of our care is more effective.
In my experience, this valuable connection is not difficult to make – it lives just below the surface for most parents. We may want to ask permission first, noting that “our ideas about how to parent tend to be shaped by how we were parented.” By simply asking, “May I ask how your parents would have handled this [behavior or situation]?” we may hear a description of a reasonable approach (sent to my room), denial that this ever came up (I was never as hardheaded as this kid!), blanking out (Things were tough. I have tried to block it all out), or clues to a pattern better not repeated (Oh, my father would have beat me ...). This question also may be useful in elucidating cultural or generational differences between what was done to them and their own intentions that can be hard to bridge. All of these are opportunities for promoting positive parenting by creating empathy for that child of the past to carry forward to the own child in the present.
While we may be lucky to have even one parent at the visit, we should ask the one present the equivalent question of the partner’s past. Even if one parent had a model that he or she wanted to emulate or a ghost to bust, the other may not agree. Conflict between partners undermines management and can create harmful tension. If the parent does not know, this is an important homework assignment to being collaborative coparents.
Empathize
After hearing about the past experiences, we should empathize with the parent regarding pain experienced as a child in the past (“That would be very scary for any child”) and ask “How much is this a burden for you now?” to see if help is needed. But this is a key educational moment for us as child development experts to suggest how children of the age they were then might process the events. For example, one might explain reaction to abandonment by a father by saying, “Any 6-year-old whose father left would feel sad and mad, but also might think he had done something wrong or wasn’t worth staying around for.” One might react to a story of abusive discipline by saying, “Children need to feel safe and protected at home. Not knowing when your parent is going to hurt you could produce lifelong anxiety and trouble trusting your closest relationships.” Watch to see if this connects for them.
Selma Fraiberg, in the classic article “Ghosts in the Nursery,”1 noted that if parents have come to empathize with their past hurting selves, they will work to prevent similar pain for their own children. If they have dealt with these experiences by identifying with the aggressive or neglectful adult or blanking the memory, they are more likely to act out similar practices with their children.
For some, being able to tolerate reviewing these painful times enough to experience empathy for the child may require years of work with a trusted therapist. We should be prepared to refer if the parents are in distress. But for many, getting our help to understand how a child might feel and later act after these experiences may be enough to interrupt the transmission. We can try to elicit current impact of the past (“How are those experiences affecting your parenting now?”). This question, expecting impact, often causes parents to stop short and think. While at first denying impact, if I have been compassionate and nonjudgmental in asking, they often return with more insight.
Help with parenting issues
After eliciting perceptions of the past, I find it useful to ask, “So, what have (the two of) you decided” about how to manage [the problematic parenting situation]?” The implication is that parenting actions are decisions. Making this decision process overt may reveal that they are having blank out moments of impulsive action, or ambivalence with thoughts and feelings in conflict, or arguments resulting in standoffs. A common reaction to hurts in the past is for parents to strongly avoid doing as their own parents did, but then have no plan at all, get increasingly emotional, and finally blow up and scream or hit or storm off ineffectually. We can help them pick out one or two stressful situations, often perceived disrespect or defiance by the child, and plan steps for when it comes up again – as hot-button issues always do. It is important to let them know that their “emotion brain” is likely to speak up first under stress and the “thinking brain” takes longer. We, and they, need to be patient and congratulate them for little bits of progress in having rationality win.
Don’t forget that children adapt to the parenting they receive and develop reactions that may interfere with seeing their parents in a new mode of trust and kindness. A child may have defended him/herself from the emotional pain of not feeling safe or protected by the parent who is acting out a ghost and may react by laughing, running, spitting, hitting, shutting down, pushing the parent away, or saying “I don’t care.” The child’s reaction, too, takes time and consistent responsiveness to change to accept new parenting patterns. It can be painful to the newly-aware parents to recognize these behaviors are caused, at least in part, by their own actions, especially when it is a repetition of their own childhood experiences. We can be the patient, empathic coach – believing in their good intentions as they develop as parents – just as they would have wanted from their parents when they were growing up.
Dr. Howard is assistant professor of pediatrics at The Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, Baltimore, and creator of CHADIS (www.CHADIS.com). She had no other relevant disclosures. Dr. Howard’s contribution to this publication was as a paid expert for MDedge News. E-mail her at [email protected].
Reference
1. “Ghosts in the Nursery: A Psychoanalytic Approach to the Problems of Impaired Infant-Mother Relationships,” J Am Acad Child Psychiatry. 1975 Summer;14(3);387-421.
As clinicians trained in the care of children, we have struggled in recent years with how much care is appropriate to provide to the parents of our young charges.
Gradual progression has occurred from recognizing postpartum depression as affecting infants, to recommending screening, to creation of a billing code for screening as “for the benefit of” the child, and increasingly even being paid for that code. We now see referral of depressed parents as within our scope of practice with the goal of protecting the child’s emotional development from the caregiver’s altered mental condition, as well as relieving the parent’s suffering. Some of us even provide treatment ourselves.
While the family history has been our standard way of assessing “transgenerational transmission” of risk for physical and mental health conditions, parenting practices are a more direct transmission threat, and one more amenable to our intervention.
Aversive parenting acts happen to many people growing up, but how the parent thinks about these seems to make the difference between consciously protecting the child from similar experiences or unconsciously playing them out in the child’s life. With 64% of U.S. adults reporting at least one adverse childhood experience (ACE), many of which were acts or omissions by their parents, we need to be vigilant to track their translation of past events, “the ghosts,” into present parenting.
Just ask
“I barely have time to talk about the child,” you may be saying, “how can I have time to dig into the parent’s issues, much less know what to do?” Exploring for connections to the parent’s past in primary care is most crucial when the parent-child relationship is strained, or the parent’s handling of typical or problematic child behaviors is abnormal, clinically symptomatic, or dangerous. Nonetheless, helping all parents make these connections enriches life and meaning for families, and dramatically strengthens the doctor-family relationship. Then all of our care is more effective.
In my experience, this valuable connection is not difficult to make – it lives just below the surface for most parents. We may want to ask permission first, noting that “our ideas about how to parent tend to be shaped by how we were parented.” By simply asking, “May I ask how your parents would have handled this [behavior or situation]?” we may hear a description of a reasonable approach (sent to my room), denial that this ever came up (I was never as hardheaded as this kid!), blanking out (Things were tough. I have tried to block it all out), or clues to a pattern better not repeated (Oh, my father would have beat me ...). This question also may be useful in elucidating cultural or generational differences between what was done to them and their own intentions that can be hard to bridge. All of these are opportunities for promoting positive parenting by creating empathy for that child of the past to carry forward to the own child in the present.
While we may be lucky to have even one parent at the visit, we should ask the one present the equivalent question of the partner’s past. Even if one parent had a model that he or she wanted to emulate or a ghost to bust, the other may not agree. Conflict between partners undermines management and can create harmful tension. If the parent does not know, this is an important homework assignment to being collaborative coparents.
Empathize
After hearing about the past experiences, we should empathize with the parent regarding pain experienced as a child in the past (“That would be very scary for any child”) and ask “How much is this a burden for you now?” to see if help is needed. But this is a key educational moment for us as child development experts to suggest how children of the age they were then might process the events. For example, one might explain reaction to abandonment by a father by saying, “Any 6-year-old whose father left would feel sad and mad, but also might think he had done something wrong or wasn’t worth staying around for.” One might react to a story of abusive discipline by saying, “Children need to feel safe and protected at home. Not knowing when your parent is going to hurt you could produce lifelong anxiety and trouble trusting your closest relationships.” Watch to see if this connects for them.
Selma Fraiberg, in the classic article “Ghosts in the Nursery,”1 noted that if parents have come to empathize with their past hurting selves, they will work to prevent similar pain for their own children. If they have dealt with these experiences by identifying with the aggressive or neglectful adult or blanking the memory, they are more likely to act out similar practices with their children.
For some, being able to tolerate reviewing these painful times enough to experience empathy for the child may require years of work with a trusted therapist. We should be prepared to refer if the parents are in distress. But for many, getting our help to understand how a child might feel and later act after these experiences may be enough to interrupt the transmission. We can try to elicit current impact of the past (“How are those experiences affecting your parenting now?”). This question, expecting impact, often causes parents to stop short and think. While at first denying impact, if I have been compassionate and nonjudgmental in asking, they often return with more insight.
Help with parenting issues
After eliciting perceptions of the past, I find it useful to ask, “So, what have (the two of) you decided” about how to manage [the problematic parenting situation]?” The implication is that parenting actions are decisions. Making this decision process overt may reveal that they are having blank out moments of impulsive action, or ambivalence with thoughts and feelings in conflict, or arguments resulting in standoffs. A common reaction to hurts in the past is for parents to strongly avoid doing as their own parents did, but then have no plan at all, get increasingly emotional, and finally blow up and scream or hit or storm off ineffectually. We can help them pick out one or two stressful situations, often perceived disrespect or defiance by the child, and plan steps for when it comes up again – as hot-button issues always do. It is important to let them know that their “emotion brain” is likely to speak up first under stress and the “thinking brain” takes longer. We, and they, need to be patient and congratulate them for little bits of progress in having rationality win.
Don’t forget that children adapt to the parenting they receive and develop reactions that may interfere with seeing their parents in a new mode of trust and kindness. A child may have defended him/herself from the emotional pain of not feeling safe or protected by the parent who is acting out a ghost and may react by laughing, running, spitting, hitting, shutting down, pushing the parent away, or saying “I don’t care.” The child’s reaction, too, takes time and consistent responsiveness to change to accept new parenting patterns. It can be painful to the newly-aware parents to recognize these behaviors are caused, at least in part, by their own actions, especially when it is a repetition of their own childhood experiences. We can be the patient, empathic coach – believing in their good intentions as they develop as parents – just as they would have wanted from their parents when they were growing up.
Dr. Howard is assistant professor of pediatrics at The Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, Baltimore, and creator of CHADIS (www.CHADIS.com). She had no other relevant disclosures. Dr. Howard’s contribution to this publication was as a paid expert for MDedge News. E-mail her at [email protected].
Reference
1. “Ghosts in the Nursery: A Psychoanalytic Approach to the Problems of Impaired Infant-Mother Relationships,” J Am Acad Child Psychiatry. 1975 Summer;14(3);387-421.
As clinicians trained in the care of children, we have struggled in recent years with how much care is appropriate to provide to the parents of our young charges.
Gradual progression has occurred from recognizing postpartum depression as affecting infants, to recommending screening, to creation of a billing code for screening as “for the benefit of” the child, and increasingly even being paid for that code. We now see referral of depressed parents as within our scope of practice with the goal of protecting the child’s emotional development from the caregiver’s altered mental condition, as well as relieving the parent’s suffering. Some of us even provide treatment ourselves.
While the family history has been our standard way of assessing “transgenerational transmission” of risk for physical and mental health conditions, parenting practices are a more direct transmission threat, and one more amenable to our intervention.
Aversive parenting acts happen to many people growing up, but how the parent thinks about these seems to make the difference between consciously protecting the child from similar experiences or unconsciously playing them out in the child’s life. With 64% of U.S. adults reporting at least one adverse childhood experience (ACE), many of which were acts or omissions by their parents, we need to be vigilant to track their translation of past events, “the ghosts,” into present parenting.
Just ask
“I barely have time to talk about the child,” you may be saying, “how can I have time to dig into the parent’s issues, much less know what to do?” Exploring for connections to the parent’s past in primary care is most crucial when the parent-child relationship is strained, or the parent’s handling of typical or problematic child behaviors is abnormal, clinically symptomatic, or dangerous. Nonetheless, helping all parents make these connections enriches life and meaning for families, and dramatically strengthens the doctor-family relationship. Then all of our care is more effective.
In my experience, this valuable connection is not difficult to make – it lives just below the surface for most parents. We may want to ask permission first, noting that “our ideas about how to parent tend to be shaped by how we were parented.” By simply asking, “May I ask how your parents would have handled this [behavior or situation]?” we may hear a description of a reasonable approach (sent to my room), denial that this ever came up (I was never as hardheaded as this kid!), blanking out (Things were tough. I have tried to block it all out), or clues to a pattern better not repeated (Oh, my father would have beat me ...). This question also may be useful in elucidating cultural or generational differences between what was done to them and their own intentions that can be hard to bridge. All of these are opportunities for promoting positive parenting by creating empathy for that child of the past to carry forward to the own child in the present.
While we may be lucky to have even one parent at the visit, we should ask the one present the equivalent question of the partner’s past. Even if one parent had a model that he or she wanted to emulate or a ghost to bust, the other may not agree. Conflict between partners undermines management and can create harmful tension. If the parent does not know, this is an important homework assignment to being collaborative coparents.
Empathize
After hearing about the past experiences, we should empathize with the parent regarding pain experienced as a child in the past (“That would be very scary for any child”) and ask “How much is this a burden for you now?” to see if help is needed. But this is a key educational moment for us as child development experts to suggest how children of the age they were then might process the events. For example, one might explain reaction to abandonment by a father by saying, “Any 6-year-old whose father left would feel sad and mad, but also might think he had done something wrong or wasn’t worth staying around for.” One might react to a story of abusive discipline by saying, “Children need to feel safe and protected at home. Not knowing when your parent is going to hurt you could produce lifelong anxiety and trouble trusting your closest relationships.” Watch to see if this connects for them.
Selma Fraiberg, in the classic article “Ghosts in the Nursery,”1 noted that if parents have come to empathize with their past hurting selves, they will work to prevent similar pain for their own children. If they have dealt with these experiences by identifying with the aggressive or neglectful adult or blanking the memory, they are more likely to act out similar practices with their children.
For some, being able to tolerate reviewing these painful times enough to experience empathy for the child may require years of work with a trusted therapist. We should be prepared to refer if the parents are in distress. But for many, getting our help to understand how a child might feel and later act after these experiences may be enough to interrupt the transmission. We can try to elicit current impact of the past (“How are those experiences affecting your parenting now?”). This question, expecting impact, often causes parents to stop short and think. While at first denying impact, if I have been compassionate and nonjudgmental in asking, they often return with more insight.
Help with parenting issues
After eliciting perceptions of the past, I find it useful to ask, “So, what have (the two of) you decided” about how to manage [the problematic parenting situation]?” The implication is that parenting actions are decisions. Making this decision process overt may reveal that they are having blank out moments of impulsive action, or ambivalence with thoughts and feelings in conflict, or arguments resulting in standoffs. A common reaction to hurts in the past is for parents to strongly avoid doing as their own parents did, but then have no plan at all, get increasingly emotional, and finally blow up and scream or hit or storm off ineffectually. We can help them pick out one or two stressful situations, often perceived disrespect or defiance by the child, and plan steps for when it comes up again – as hot-button issues always do. It is important to let them know that their “emotion brain” is likely to speak up first under stress and the “thinking brain” takes longer. We, and they, need to be patient and congratulate them for little bits of progress in having rationality win.
Don’t forget that children adapt to the parenting they receive and develop reactions that may interfere with seeing their parents in a new mode of trust and kindness. A child may have defended him/herself from the emotional pain of not feeling safe or protected by the parent who is acting out a ghost and may react by laughing, running, spitting, hitting, shutting down, pushing the parent away, or saying “I don’t care.” The child’s reaction, too, takes time and consistent responsiveness to change to accept new parenting patterns. It can be painful to the newly-aware parents to recognize these behaviors are caused, at least in part, by their own actions, especially when it is a repetition of their own childhood experiences. We can be the patient, empathic coach – believing in their good intentions as they develop as parents – just as they would have wanted from their parents when they were growing up.
Dr. Howard is assistant professor of pediatrics at The Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, Baltimore, and creator of CHADIS (www.CHADIS.com). She had no other relevant disclosures. Dr. Howard’s contribution to this publication was as a paid expert for MDedge News. E-mail her at [email protected].
Reference
1. “Ghosts in the Nursery: A Psychoanalytic Approach to the Problems of Impaired Infant-Mother Relationships,” J Am Acad Child Psychiatry. 1975 Summer;14(3);387-421.
Addressing patients’ complaints
. More than ever, it seems impossible to construct any sort of template for consistent, mutually satisfactory resolutions of such disputes.
But it is possible, and it’s not as complex as it appears, once you realize what the vast majority of complaints have in common: Expectations have not been met. Sometimes it’s your fault, sometimes the patient’s, and often a bit of both, but either way, the result is the same: You have an unhappy patient, and you must deal with it.
Why, you might ask? Is the expenditure of time and effort necessary to resolve complaints really worth it? Absolutely, because the old cliché is true: A satisfied patient will refer five new patients, but a dissatisfied one will chase away twenty or more. Besides, if the complaint is significant, and you decline to resolve it, the patient is likely to find someone who will; and chances are you won’t like the choice, or the venue – or the resolution.
As such, this is not a job you should delegate. Unless the complaint is trivial or purely administrative, you should address it yourself. It’s what you would want if you were the complainant, and it’s often too important to trust to a subordinate.
I have distilled this unpleasant duty down to a three-part strategy:
- Discover which expectations went unmet, and why.
- Agree on a solution.
- Learn from the experience, to prevent similar future complaints.
Of course, the easiest way to deal with complaints is to prevent as many as possible in the first place. Take the time to explain all treatments and procedures, and their most likely outcomes. Nip unrealistic expectations in the bud. Make it clear (preferably in writing) that reputable practitioners cannot guarantee perfect results. And, of course, document everything you have explained. Documentation is like garlic: There is no such thing as too much of it.
Of course, despite your best efforts at prevention, there will always be complaints, and handling them is a skill set worth honing, especially the one most of us do poorly: listening to the complaint.
Before you can resolve a problem you have to know what it is, and this is precisely the wrong time to make assumptions or jump to conclusions. So listen to the entire complaint without interrupting, defending, or justifying. Angry patients don’t care why the problem occurred, and they are not interested in your side of the story. This is not about you, so listen and understand.
As you listen, the unmet expectations will become clear. When the patient is finished, I like to summarize the complaint in that context: “So if I understand you correctly, you expected ‘X’ to happen, but ‘Y’ happened instead.” If I’m wrong, I modify my summary until the patient agrees that I understand the issue.
Once you know the problem, you can talk about a solution. The patient usually has one in mind – additional treatment, a referral elsewhere, a fee adjustment, or sometimes simply an apology. Consider it.
If the patient’s solution is reasonable, by all means, agree to it; if it is unreasonable, try to offer a reasonable alternative. The temptation here is to think more about protecting yourself than making the patient happy, but that often leads to bigger problems. Don’t be defensive. Again, this is not about you.
I am often asked if a refund is a reasonable option. Some patients (and lawyers) will interpret a refund as a tacit admission of guilt, so I generally try to avoid them. However, canceling a small fee or copay for an angry patient can be an expedient solution (particularly if it is still unpaid), and in my opinion, looks exactly like what it is: an honest effort to rectify the situation. But in general, additional materials or services, at reduced or waived fees, are a better alternative than refunding money.
Once you have arrived at a mutually satisfactory solution, again, document everything but consider reserving a “private” chart area for such documentation (unless it is a bona fide clinical issue), so that it won’t go out to referrers and other third parties with copies of your clinical notes. Also, consider having the patient sign off on the documentation, acknowledging that the complaint has been resolved.
Finally, always try to learn something from the experience. Ask yourself what you can do (or avoid doing) next time, and how you might prevent similar unrealistic expectations in a future situation.
Above all, never take complaints personally – even when they are personal. It’s always worth reminding yourself that no matter how hard you try, you will never please everyone.
Dr. Eastern practices dermatology and dermatologic surgery in Belleville, N.J. He is the author of numerous articles and textbook chapters, and is a longtime monthly columnist for Dermatology News. Write to him at [email protected].
. More than ever, it seems impossible to construct any sort of template for consistent, mutually satisfactory resolutions of such disputes.
But it is possible, and it’s not as complex as it appears, once you realize what the vast majority of complaints have in common: Expectations have not been met. Sometimes it’s your fault, sometimes the patient’s, and often a bit of both, but either way, the result is the same: You have an unhappy patient, and you must deal with it.
Why, you might ask? Is the expenditure of time and effort necessary to resolve complaints really worth it? Absolutely, because the old cliché is true: A satisfied patient will refer five new patients, but a dissatisfied one will chase away twenty or more. Besides, if the complaint is significant, and you decline to resolve it, the patient is likely to find someone who will; and chances are you won’t like the choice, or the venue – or the resolution.
As such, this is not a job you should delegate. Unless the complaint is trivial or purely administrative, you should address it yourself. It’s what you would want if you were the complainant, and it’s often too important to trust to a subordinate.
I have distilled this unpleasant duty down to a three-part strategy:
- Discover which expectations went unmet, and why.
- Agree on a solution.
- Learn from the experience, to prevent similar future complaints.
Of course, the easiest way to deal with complaints is to prevent as many as possible in the first place. Take the time to explain all treatments and procedures, and their most likely outcomes. Nip unrealistic expectations in the bud. Make it clear (preferably in writing) that reputable practitioners cannot guarantee perfect results. And, of course, document everything you have explained. Documentation is like garlic: There is no such thing as too much of it.
Of course, despite your best efforts at prevention, there will always be complaints, and handling them is a skill set worth honing, especially the one most of us do poorly: listening to the complaint.
Before you can resolve a problem you have to know what it is, and this is precisely the wrong time to make assumptions or jump to conclusions. So listen to the entire complaint without interrupting, defending, or justifying. Angry patients don’t care why the problem occurred, and they are not interested in your side of the story. This is not about you, so listen and understand.
As you listen, the unmet expectations will become clear. When the patient is finished, I like to summarize the complaint in that context: “So if I understand you correctly, you expected ‘X’ to happen, but ‘Y’ happened instead.” If I’m wrong, I modify my summary until the patient agrees that I understand the issue.
Once you know the problem, you can talk about a solution. The patient usually has one in mind – additional treatment, a referral elsewhere, a fee adjustment, or sometimes simply an apology. Consider it.
If the patient’s solution is reasonable, by all means, agree to it; if it is unreasonable, try to offer a reasonable alternative. The temptation here is to think more about protecting yourself than making the patient happy, but that often leads to bigger problems. Don’t be defensive. Again, this is not about you.
I am often asked if a refund is a reasonable option. Some patients (and lawyers) will interpret a refund as a tacit admission of guilt, so I generally try to avoid them. However, canceling a small fee or copay for an angry patient can be an expedient solution (particularly if it is still unpaid), and in my opinion, looks exactly like what it is: an honest effort to rectify the situation. But in general, additional materials or services, at reduced or waived fees, are a better alternative than refunding money.
Once you have arrived at a mutually satisfactory solution, again, document everything but consider reserving a “private” chart area for such documentation (unless it is a bona fide clinical issue), so that it won’t go out to referrers and other third parties with copies of your clinical notes. Also, consider having the patient sign off on the documentation, acknowledging that the complaint has been resolved.
Finally, always try to learn something from the experience. Ask yourself what you can do (or avoid doing) next time, and how you might prevent similar unrealistic expectations in a future situation.
Above all, never take complaints personally – even when they are personal. It’s always worth reminding yourself that no matter how hard you try, you will never please everyone.
Dr. Eastern practices dermatology and dermatologic surgery in Belleville, N.J. He is the author of numerous articles and textbook chapters, and is a longtime monthly columnist for Dermatology News. Write to him at [email protected].
. More than ever, it seems impossible to construct any sort of template for consistent, mutually satisfactory resolutions of such disputes.
But it is possible, and it’s not as complex as it appears, once you realize what the vast majority of complaints have in common: Expectations have not been met. Sometimes it’s your fault, sometimes the patient’s, and often a bit of both, but either way, the result is the same: You have an unhappy patient, and you must deal with it.
Why, you might ask? Is the expenditure of time and effort necessary to resolve complaints really worth it? Absolutely, because the old cliché is true: A satisfied patient will refer five new patients, but a dissatisfied one will chase away twenty or more. Besides, if the complaint is significant, and you decline to resolve it, the patient is likely to find someone who will; and chances are you won’t like the choice, or the venue – or the resolution.
As such, this is not a job you should delegate. Unless the complaint is trivial or purely administrative, you should address it yourself. It’s what you would want if you were the complainant, and it’s often too important to trust to a subordinate.
I have distilled this unpleasant duty down to a three-part strategy:
- Discover which expectations went unmet, and why.
- Agree on a solution.
- Learn from the experience, to prevent similar future complaints.
Of course, the easiest way to deal with complaints is to prevent as many as possible in the first place. Take the time to explain all treatments and procedures, and their most likely outcomes. Nip unrealistic expectations in the bud. Make it clear (preferably in writing) that reputable practitioners cannot guarantee perfect results. And, of course, document everything you have explained. Documentation is like garlic: There is no such thing as too much of it.
Of course, despite your best efforts at prevention, there will always be complaints, and handling them is a skill set worth honing, especially the one most of us do poorly: listening to the complaint.
Before you can resolve a problem you have to know what it is, and this is precisely the wrong time to make assumptions or jump to conclusions. So listen to the entire complaint without interrupting, defending, or justifying. Angry patients don’t care why the problem occurred, and they are not interested in your side of the story. This is not about you, so listen and understand.
As you listen, the unmet expectations will become clear. When the patient is finished, I like to summarize the complaint in that context: “So if I understand you correctly, you expected ‘X’ to happen, but ‘Y’ happened instead.” If I’m wrong, I modify my summary until the patient agrees that I understand the issue.
Once you know the problem, you can talk about a solution. The patient usually has one in mind – additional treatment, a referral elsewhere, a fee adjustment, or sometimes simply an apology. Consider it.
If the patient’s solution is reasonable, by all means, agree to it; if it is unreasonable, try to offer a reasonable alternative. The temptation here is to think more about protecting yourself than making the patient happy, but that often leads to bigger problems. Don’t be defensive. Again, this is not about you.
I am often asked if a refund is a reasonable option. Some patients (and lawyers) will interpret a refund as a tacit admission of guilt, so I generally try to avoid them. However, canceling a small fee or copay for an angry patient can be an expedient solution (particularly if it is still unpaid), and in my opinion, looks exactly like what it is: an honest effort to rectify the situation. But in general, additional materials or services, at reduced or waived fees, are a better alternative than refunding money.
Once you have arrived at a mutually satisfactory solution, again, document everything but consider reserving a “private” chart area for such documentation (unless it is a bona fide clinical issue), so that it won’t go out to referrers and other third parties with copies of your clinical notes. Also, consider having the patient sign off on the documentation, acknowledging that the complaint has been resolved.
Finally, always try to learn something from the experience. Ask yourself what you can do (or avoid doing) next time, and how you might prevent similar unrealistic expectations in a future situation.
Above all, never take complaints personally – even when they are personal. It’s always worth reminding yourself that no matter how hard you try, you will never please everyone.
Dr. Eastern practices dermatology and dermatologic surgery in Belleville, N.J. He is the author of numerous articles and textbook chapters, and is a longtime monthly columnist for Dermatology News. Write to him at [email protected].
Tidying up a motley crew
It probably is buried in a box in your parents’ basement, but try to remember your soccer or football or track team picture from when you were in eighth grade. Tragically but predictably, most of your peers who were chubby in third grade are nowhere to be seen in the photo. But still it was a pretty motley crew. Some of you weren’t even up to the armpits of your taller teammates. Some guys were shaving. Others had little boys’ voices. Half the girls had reached menarche. Another third were still waiting impatiently for a breast bud.
The precocious and the late bloomers, you were all on the team. But it was pretty clear that those who had matured first generally were the more talented and successful athletes. By the time you were juniors in high school, many of those who matured late had quit the sport or been cut from the team, unable to catch up. Others may have been forced to give up the sport by their parents, who were concerned about the risk of injury when bodies of disparate size collide. A few of the early bloomers may have become depressed, older adolescents who had failed to match the hype and expectations that came when they were a head taller than their grade school teammates.
These natural consequences of biological variation are not small potatoes for the fragile egos of adolescents and preadolescents. The lead article in the November 2018 Pediatrics offers a partial solution for the issue of sports participation in a population with widely discrepant states of maturity (“Biobanding: A New Paradigm for Youth Sports and Training,” Pediatrics. 2018 Nov;142[5]:e20180423). The authors describe a system they call biobanding, in which “the percentage of predicted adult stature attained at the time of observation as the indicator of maturity status” is used to create groups or bands of participants with similar levels of maturity. They argue that this method is easy to use and report and that has been used with some success in Great Britain.
At first blush, biobanding sounds appealing, particularly for large communities. However, as someone who grew up in and practiced in a small town, I’m not sure how successfully it could be scaled down. There have been years when I could easily have disqualified a third of the high school football team were I to take into consideration the size and maturity of the competition they would be facing. But I didn’t. The fading interest in football in Maine has prompted some schools to consider moving to less-than-11-player competition or even to flag football. To some extent, the problem is taking care of itself.
How much tinkering should we be doing with something that is arguably a distorted natural selection process? With thoughtfully crafted rules, diligent supervision, and officiating, most of the issues of safety that one might attribute to discrepancies in maturity can be minimized. There always will be children who become discouraged and quit when they see the handwriting on the wall that reads “those who mature early win.” I’m certainly not wild about parents holding their children out of school to give them a jump on their peers. It can spiral out of control.
A more appealing solution is to do a better job of advertising the many successful late bloomers in professional sports ... and making sure that late-blooming children are given an abundance of active and competitive (if they wish) alternatives to sports dominated by their early maturing peers.
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.” Email him at [email protected].
It probably is buried in a box in your parents’ basement, but try to remember your soccer or football or track team picture from when you were in eighth grade. Tragically but predictably, most of your peers who were chubby in third grade are nowhere to be seen in the photo. But still it was a pretty motley crew. Some of you weren’t even up to the armpits of your taller teammates. Some guys were shaving. Others had little boys’ voices. Half the girls had reached menarche. Another third were still waiting impatiently for a breast bud.
The precocious and the late bloomers, you were all on the team. But it was pretty clear that those who had matured first generally were the more talented and successful athletes. By the time you were juniors in high school, many of those who matured late had quit the sport or been cut from the team, unable to catch up. Others may have been forced to give up the sport by their parents, who were concerned about the risk of injury when bodies of disparate size collide. A few of the early bloomers may have become depressed, older adolescents who had failed to match the hype and expectations that came when they were a head taller than their grade school teammates.
These natural consequences of biological variation are not small potatoes for the fragile egos of adolescents and preadolescents. The lead article in the November 2018 Pediatrics offers a partial solution for the issue of sports participation in a population with widely discrepant states of maturity (“Biobanding: A New Paradigm for Youth Sports and Training,” Pediatrics. 2018 Nov;142[5]:e20180423). The authors describe a system they call biobanding, in which “the percentage of predicted adult stature attained at the time of observation as the indicator of maturity status” is used to create groups or bands of participants with similar levels of maturity. They argue that this method is easy to use and report and that has been used with some success in Great Britain.
At first blush, biobanding sounds appealing, particularly for large communities. However, as someone who grew up in and practiced in a small town, I’m not sure how successfully it could be scaled down. There have been years when I could easily have disqualified a third of the high school football team were I to take into consideration the size and maturity of the competition they would be facing. But I didn’t. The fading interest in football in Maine has prompted some schools to consider moving to less-than-11-player competition or even to flag football. To some extent, the problem is taking care of itself.
How much tinkering should we be doing with something that is arguably a distorted natural selection process? With thoughtfully crafted rules, diligent supervision, and officiating, most of the issues of safety that one might attribute to discrepancies in maturity can be minimized. There always will be children who become discouraged and quit when they see the handwriting on the wall that reads “those who mature early win.” I’m certainly not wild about parents holding their children out of school to give them a jump on their peers. It can spiral out of control.
A more appealing solution is to do a better job of advertising the many successful late bloomers in professional sports ... and making sure that late-blooming children are given an abundance of active and competitive (if they wish) alternatives to sports dominated by their early maturing peers.
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.” Email him at [email protected].
It probably is buried in a box in your parents’ basement, but try to remember your soccer or football or track team picture from when you were in eighth grade. Tragically but predictably, most of your peers who were chubby in third grade are nowhere to be seen in the photo. But still it was a pretty motley crew. Some of you weren’t even up to the armpits of your taller teammates. Some guys were shaving. Others had little boys’ voices. Half the girls had reached menarche. Another third were still waiting impatiently for a breast bud.
The precocious and the late bloomers, you were all on the team. But it was pretty clear that those who had matured first generally were the more talented and successful athletes. By the time you were juniors in high school, many of those who matured late had quit the sport or been cut from the team, unable to catch up. Others may have been forced to give up the sport by their parents, who were concerned about the risk of injury when bodies of disparate size collide. A few of the early bloomers may have become depressed, older adolescents who had failed to match the hype and expectations that came when they were a head taller than their grade school teammates.
These natural consequences of biological variation are not small potatoes for the fragile egos of adolescents and preadolescents. The lead article in the November 2018 Pediatrics offers a partial solution for the issue of sports participation in a population with widely discrepant states of maturity (“Biobanding: A New Paradigm for Youth Sports and Training,” Pediatrics. 2018 Nov;142[5]:e20180423). The authors describe a system they call biobanding, in which “the percentage of predicted adult stature attained at the time of observation as the indicator of maturity status” is used to create groups or bands of participants with similar levels of maturity. They argue that this method is easy to use and report and that has been used with some success in Great Britain.
At first blush, biobanding sounds appealing, particularly for large communities. However, as someone who grew up in and practiced in a small town, I’m not sure how successfully it could be scaled down. There have been years when I could easily have disqualified a third of the high school football team were I to take into consideration the size and maturity of the competition they would be facing. But I didn’t. The fading interest in football in Maine has prompted some schools to consider moving to less-than-11-player competition or even to flag football. To some extent, the problem is taking care of itself.
How much tinkering should we be doing with something that is arguably a distorted natural selection process? With thoughtfully crafted rules, diligent supervision, and officiating, most of the issues of safety that one might attribute to discrepancies in maturity can be minimized. There always will be children who become discouraged and quit when they see the handwriting on the wall that reads “those who mature early win.” I’m certainly not wild about parents holding their children out of school to give them a jump on their peers. It can spiral out of control.
A more appealing solution is to do a better job of advertising the many successful late bloomers in professional sports ... and making sure that late-blooming children are given an abundance of active and competitive (if they wish) alternatives to sports dominated by their early maturing peers.
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.” Email him at [email protected].
What is an “early and accurate” diagnosis?
For the last few weeks, the eye-grabber at the top of the American Academy of Pediatrics shopAAP email has been “Early and Accurate Diagnosis.” The unstated claim is that a practitioner who subscribes to one of their continuing education products will improve his or her chances of making an early and accurate diagnosis that “Also Cures Missed School, Soccer Practice, and Music Lessons.” The tagline, Early and Accurate Diagnosis, got me ruminating.
What exactly is an accurate diagnosis? And how does one define an early diagnosis? These are not merely questions of semantics. An honest attempt to answer them scratches through the surface of some serious issues facing a primary care physician.
Who are the judges deciding whether a physician’s diagnosis is accurate? Should it be a panel of academic physicians, most of who are specialists and subspecialists, and who are most comfortable seeing patients with array of signs and symptoms that your patient has presented? Or, should it be a collection of your primary care peers working with limited resources miles away from a tertiary care center?
Is there such a thing as a diagnosis that is close enough? How often is it important that your diagnosis is spot on? Is it like a high school algebra problem in which you could get partial credit for showing how you arrived at the not-quite-right-answer? It really makes a difference only when you start acting (or, in some cases, not acting) on your diagnosis.
Let’s be honest. How often have you made the wrong diagnosis and the patient got better with your management plan? Your therapy may have worked for Diagnosis A even though you were targeting Diagnosis B. Or, more likely, the patient was going to get better without any intervention.
Don’t get me wrong. I think a correct diagnosis can be, and often is, extremely important, but it is really the patient who is the judge of whether you got it right. He doesn’t care what you called it. He is happy knowing that he got better and you didn’t hurt him.
Now, what about that “early” piece? Again, the patient might have something to say about this. You may have made the correct diagnosis but because your productivity is limited by a clunky EMR or your appointment desk does a poor job of triage, the patient was forced to wait an unconscionable amount of time to be seen.
A timely diagnosis certainly is important in many situations. But particularly, early in your career, you may not have the experience to make those quick one look and you’ve got it right diagnoses. These are times to come clean and tell the patient that you aren’t sure what they have. Of course, you might want to choose a better phrase than, “I don’t have clue.”
If I had been asked to write the AAP’s tag line, I would have chosen “efficient” instead of early. If you made the correct diagnosis and it was reasonably timely but you ordered a barrage of unnecessary and expensive tests that inconvenienced the patient, you should have done a better job.
Finally, if you make the correct and early diagnosis but deliver it to the patient poorly, your therapy may not work. Again, it boils down to being an artful and caring physician.
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.” Email him at [email protected].
For the last few weeks, the eye-grabber at the top of the American Academy of Pediatrics shopAAP email has been “Early and Accurate Diagnosis.” The unstated claim is that a practitioner who subscribes to one of their continuing education products will improve his or her chances of making an early and accurate diagnosis that “Also Cures Missed School, Soccer Practice, and Music Lessons.” The tagline, Early and Accurate Diagnosis, got me ruminating.
What exactly is an accurate diagnosis? And how does one define an early diagnosis? These are not merely questions of semantics. An honest attempt to answer them scratches through the surface of some serious issues facing a primary care physician.
Who are the judges deciding whether a physician’s diagnosis is accurate? Should it be a panel of academic physicians, most of who are specialists and subspecialists, and who are most comfortable seeing patients with array of signs and symptoms that your patient has presented? Or, should it be a collection of your primary care peers working with limited resources miles away from a tertiary care center?
Is there such a thing as a diagnosis that is close enough? How often is it important that your diagnosis is spot on? Is it like a high school algebra problem in which you could get partial credit for showing how you arrived at the not-quite-right-answer? It really makes a difference only when you start acting (or, in some cases, not acting) on your diagnosis.
Let’s be honest. How often have you made the wrong diagnosis and the patient got better with your management plan? Your therapy may have worked for Diagnosis A even though you were targeting Diagnosis B. Or, more likely, the patient was going to get better without any intervention.
Don’t get me wrong. I think a correct diagnosis can be, and often is, extremely important, but it is really the patient who is the judge of whether you got it right. He doesn’t care what you called it. He is happy knowing that he got better and you didn’t hurt him.
Now, what about that “early” piece? Again, the patient might have something to say about this. You may have made the correct diagnosis but because your productivity is limited by a clunky EMR or your appointment desk does a poor job of triage, the patient was forced to wait an unconscionable amount of time to be seen.
A timely diagnosis certainly is important in many situations. But particularly, early in your career, you may not have the experience to make those quick one look and you’ve got it right diagnoses. These are times to come clean and tell the patient that you aren’t sure what they have. Of course, you might want to choose a better phrase than, “I don’t have clue.”
If I had been asked to write the AAP’s tag line, I would have chosen “efficient” instead of early. If you made the correct diagnosis and it was reasonably timely but you ordered a barrage of unnecessary and expensive tests that inconvenienced the patient, you should have done a better job.
Finally, if you make the correct and early diagnosis but deliver it to the patient poorly, your therapy may not work. Again, it boils down to being an artful and caring physician.
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.” Email him at [email protected].
For the last few weeks, the eye-grabber at the top of the American Academy of Pediatrics shopAAP email has been “Early and Accurate Diagnosis.” The unstated claim is that a practitioner who subscribes to one of their continuing education products will improve his or her chances of making an early and accurate diagnosis that “Also Cures Missed School, Soccer Practice, and Music Lessons.” The tagline, Early and Accurate Diagnosis, got me ruminating.
What exactly is an accurate diagnosis? And how does one define an early diagnosis? These are not merely questions of semantics. An honest attempt to answer them scratches through the surface of some serious issues facing a primary care physician.
Who are the judges deciding whether a physician’s diagnosis is accurate? Should it be a panel of academic physicians, most of who are specialists and subspecialists, and who are most comfortable seeing patients with array of signs and symptoms that your patient has presented? Or, should it be a collection of your primary care peers working with limited resources miles away from a tertiary care center?
Is there such a thing as a diagnosis that is close enough? How often is it important that your diagnosis is spot on? Is it like a high school algebra problem in which you could get partial credit for showing how you arrived at the not-quite-right-answer? It really makes a difference only when you start acting (or, in some cases, not acting) on your diagnosis.
Let’s be honest. How often have you made the wrong diagnosis and the patient got better with your management plan? Your therapy may have worked for Diagnosis A even though you were targeting Diagnosis B. Or, more likely, the patient was going to get better without any intervention.
Don’t get me wrong. I think a correct diagnosis can be, and often is, extremely important, but it is really the patient who is the judge of whether you got it right. He doesn’t care what you called it. He is happy knowing that he got better and you didn’t hurt him.
Now, what about that “early” piece? Again, the patient might have something to say about this. You may have made the correct diagnosis but because your productivity is limited by a clunky EMR or your appointment desk does a poor job of triage, the patient was forced to wait an unconscionable amount of time to be seen.
A timely diagnosis certainly is important in many situations. But particularly, early in your career, you may not have the experience to make those quick one look and you’ve got it right diagnoses. These are times to come clean and tell the patient that you aren’t sure what they have. Of course, you might want to choose a better phrase than, “I don’t have clue.”
If I had been asked to write the AAP’s tag line, I would have chosen “efficient” instead of early. If you made the correct diagnosis and it was reasonably timely but you ordered a barrage of unnecessary and expensive tests that inconvenienced the patient, you should have done a better job.
Finally, if you make the correct and early diagnosis but deliver it to the patient poorly, your therapy may not work. Again, it boils down to being an artful and caring physician.
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.” Email him at [email protected].
How does caring affect the placebo effect?
How thorough are you when you prescribe medication? You check the patient’s list of allergies and current medications. You make sure that the dose is appropriate for the patient’s weight. Hopefully, you spend a minute or 2 describing the most common side effects. You prescribe the correct amount of medication and an appropriate number of refills. If you think you can distill it into one or two sentences, you also explain the medication’s mechanism of action. That is if you understand it yourself.
What about placebos? How often do you believe that your patient has gotten better because of the placebo effect? Do you ever intentionally recommend or prescribe a placebo? Do you share with the patient that there is no current explanation of why the treatment you are recommending should work? Or, do you just play dumb?
Whether you admit to being a frequent prescriber of placebos or not you should take the 20 minutes it will take to read a New York Times article titled “What if the Placebo Effect Isn’t a Trick” (Gary Greenberg, Nov 7, 2018). You will learn a bit about the history of the placebo effect including some recent functional MRI studies that have uncovered consistent brain activity patterns in subjects that respond to placebos.
You will read about some exciting research indicating that certain people with a genomic variant of an enzyme that has been shown to affect the response to painkillers generally have the weakest response to placebo. While in some studies the association between the patient’s response and the level of the enzyme is the reverse, Kathryn Hall, PhD, the molecular biologist overseeing these studies, feels that at this point in her research the fact that there is an association that varies with genotype is a critical finding. She suspects that the placebo effect and the drug operate on the same biochemical highway that includes this enzyme and that “clinician warmth” is particularly effective in patients with a certain genotype.
Ted Kaptchuk, who heads up Harvard Medical School’s Program in Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter and has collaborated with Dr. Hall, hypothesizes “that the placebo effect is a biological response to an act of caring.” Is Dr. Hall’s work the first step in defining that response?
What does all of this new information mean for us as care dispensers? I think it means that caring is important and can make a critical difference if we have chosen a patient with the favorable genome. Of course, how are we to know whether we are working with such a patient? All the caring in the world may not change the outcome if we have selected incorrectly.
And then there is the other side of the practitioner-patient relationship and the definition and quantification of “caring.” Are there practitioners who are so inept and/or devoid of caring that even patients with the most favorable genome are not going to respond to their attempts at dispensing placebos?
Are there some practitioners who are born with a knack for caring? Can it be taught? Do we select for the quality of caring with the Medical College Admission Test (MCAT)? Do we weed out those who obviously don’t have it during their training?
Is caring a finite resource that can be exhausted? Is it affected by sleep deprivation or marital troubles at home? Or hours sitting in front of a computer screen? I suspect I know the answers to some of these questions. But what I do know for sure is that the placebo effect is real and is just another example that practicing medicine is more of an art than a science.
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.” Email him at [email protected].
How thorough are you when you prescribe medication? You check the patient’s list of allergies and current medications. You make sure that the dose is appropriate for the patient’s weight. Hopefully, you spend a minute or 2 describing the most common side effects. You prescribe the correct amount of medication and an appropriate number of refills. If you think you can distill it into one or two sentences, you also explain the medication’s mechanism of action. That is if you understand it yourself.
What about placebos? How often do you believe that your patient has gotten better because of the placebo effect? Do you ever intentionally recommend or prescribe a placebo? Do you share with the patient that there is no current explanation of why the treatment you are recommending should work? Or, do you just play dumb?
Whether you admit to being a frequent prescriber of placebos or not you should take the 20 minutes it will take to read a New York Times article titled “What if the Placebo Effect Isn’t a Trick” (Gary Greenberg, Nov 7, 2018). You will learn a bit about the history of the placebo effect including some recent functional MRI studies that have uncovered consistent brain activity patterns in subjects that respond to placebos.
You will read about some exciting research indicating that certain people with a genomic variant of an enzyme that has been shown to affect the response to painkillers generally have the weakest response to placebo. While in some studies the association between the patient’s response and the level of the enzyme is the reverse, Kathryn Hall, PhD, the molecular biologist overseeing these studies, feels that at this point in her research the fact that there is an association that varies with genotype is a critical finding. She suspects that the placebo effect and the drug operate on the same biochemical highway that includes this enzyme and that “clinician warmth” is particularly effective in patients with a certain genotype.
Ted Kaptchuk, who heads up Harvard Medical School’s Program in Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter and has collaborated with Dr. Hall, hypothesizes “that the placebo effect is a biological response to an act of caring.” Is Dr. Hall’s work the first step in defining that response?
What does all of this new information mean for us as care dispensers? I think it means that caring is important and can make a critical difference if we have chosen a patient with the favorable genome. Of course, how are we to know whether we are working with such a patient? All the caring in the world may not change the outcome if we have selected incorrectly.
And then there is the other side of the practitioner-patient relationship and the definition and quantification of “caring.” Are there practitioners who are so inept and/or devoid of caring that even patients with the most favorable genome are not going to respond to their attempts at dispensing placebos?
Are there some practitioners who are born with a knack for caring? Can it be taught? Do we select for the quality of caring with the Medical College Admission Test (MCAT)? Do we weed out those who obviously don’t have it during their training?
Is caring a finite resource that can be exhausted? Is it affected by sleep deprivation or marital troubles at home? Or hours sitting in front of a computer screen? I suspect I know the answers to some of these questions. But what I do know for sure is that the placebo effect is real and is just another example that practicing medicine is more of an art than a science.
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.” Email him at [email protected].
How thorough are you when you prescribe medication? You check the patient’s list of allergies and current medications. You make sure that the dose is appropriate for the patient’s weight. Hopefully, you spend a minute or 2 describing the most common side effects. You prescribe the correct amount of medication and an appropriate number of refills. If you think you can distill it into one or two sentences, you also explain the medication’s mechanism of action. That is if you understand it yourself.
What about placebos? How often do you believe that your patient has gotten better because of the placebo effect? Do you ever intentionally recommend or prescribe a placebo? Do you share with the patient that there is no current explanation of why the treatment you are recommending should work? Or, do you just play dumb?
Whether you admit to being a frequent prescriber of placebos or not you should take the 20 minutes it will take to read a New York Times article titled “What if the Placebo Effect Isn’t a Trick” (Gary Greenberg, Nov 7, 2018). You will learn a bit about the history of the placebo effect including some recent functional MRI studies that have uncovered consistent brain activity patterns in subjects that respond to placebos.
You will read about some exciting research indicating that certain people with a genomic variant of an enzyme that has been shown to affect the response to painkillers generally have the weakest response to placebo. While in some studies the association between the patient’s response and the level of the enzyme is the reverse, Kathryn Hall, PhD, the molecular biologist overseeing these studies, feels that at this point in her research the fact that there is an association that varies with genotype is a critical finding. She suspects that the placebo effect and the drug operate on the same biochemical highway that includes this enzyme and that “clinician warmth” is particularly effective in patients with a certain genotype.
Ted Kaptchuk, who heads up Harvard Medical School’s Program in Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter and has collaborated with Dr. Hall, hypothesizes “that the placebo effect is a biological response to an act of caring.” Is Dr. Hall’s work the first step in defining that response?
What does all of this new information mean for us as care dispensers? I think it means that caring is important and can make a critical difference if we have chosen a patient with the favorable genome. Of course, how are we to know whether we are working with such a patient? All the caring in the world may not change the outcome if we have selected incorrectly.
And then there is the other side of the practitioner-patient relationship and the definition and quantification of “caring.” Are there practitioners who are so inept and/or devoid of caring that even patients with the most favorable genome are not going to respond to their attempts at dispensing placebos?
Are there some practitioners who are born with a knack for caring? Can it be taught? Do we select for the quality of caring with the Medical College Admission Test (MCAT)? Do we weed out those who obviously don’t have it during their training?
Is caring a finite resource that can be exhausted? Is it affected by sleep deprivation or marital troubles at home? Or hours sitting in front of a computer screen? I suspect I know the answers to some of these questions. But what I do know for sure is that the placebo effect is real and is just another example that practicing medicine is more of an art than a science.
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.” Email him at [email protected].
Gatekeeper
One evening as the oncology fellow on call, I received a phone call from the ICU fellow.
“Can you meet me in the emergency room?” he asked. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
A patient we had discharged from the hospital 2 days before was back. He had metastatic stomach cancer that had spread into his lungs and the lymph nodes in his chest. While he was in the hospital, he had required several liters of oxygen to maintain a normal work of breathing.
But now, he was in the emergency room, he was requiring a full face mask to help him breathe – and his oxygen levels were still dropping.
The ICU had been called. The next step along the algorithm of worsening breathing would be intubation. They would have to sedate him, put a breathing tube down his throat, and connect him to a ventilator to keep him alive.
But they didn’t want to do that if he was dying from his cancer.
Hence the call to me. My job, as the oncologist on call, was to answer the question: Is he dying?
Specifically, that meant weigh in on his cancer prognosis. Put his disease into context. Does he have any more options, chemotherapy or otherwise?
As an oncology fellow, I’ve found this to be one of the most common calls I get. Someone is critically ill and they need something to survive – maybe it’s intubation; maybe it’s surgery. The patient also happens to have metastatic cancer. The question posed to me is: Should we proceed?
It’s also one of the most difficult calls. Because doctors are historically bad at prognosticating. Because often I’m meeting the patient for the first time. Because the decision is huge and often final, and because both options are bad.
Suppose I say he has a good year or 2 ahead of him, and we intubate him – and then he never comes off the ventilator. We are eventually forced to withdraw care, and to the family it’s as though they are killing their father. It’s traumatic; it’s painful; and it deprives someone of a comfortable passing. Suppose I say he is dying from his cancer and we decide against a breathing tube. If I am wrong in that direction, a person’s life is cut short. It’s a perfect storm of high risk and low certainty.
Many people with metastatic cancer say they wouldn’t want invasive treatment near the end of life. But how do we know when it’s the end? There is still a moment when you must determine: Is this it? The truth is it’s not always clear.
Whenever I can, I reach out to the primary oncologist who knows the patient best. Then, I do a quick search for something reversible. Did the patient take too much morphine at home, and should we trial a dose of Narcan? Does he have a pneumonia that could be cured with antibiotics, a blood clot that could improve with blood thinners, or some extra fluid that can be diuresed? But usually it’s a mix, and even if there is a reversible injury, it can tip the very ill person over to the irreversible. This is how passing away from an aggressive cancer plays out.
Down in the emergency room, my patient’s breathing is rapid. His chest is heaving. The nurse shows me his blood gas with a carbon dioxide level more than twice the upper limit of normal. Now fading in and out of consciousness, he is a different man from the one who had walked out of the hospital 2 days earlier.
His daughter stands next to him. “He always said he wanted to do everything. I think we should give the breathing tube a try,” she says.
I tell her my concerns. I am afraid if we do it the likelihood of ever coming off is slim. And if we place a breathing tube he would have to be sedated so as not to be uncomfortable, and you won’t be able to communicate with him. You can’t say good bye, or I love you. If we keep the mask, he may wake up enough to interact.
The daughter – whom I knew well from prior visits, who was always articulate and poised and the spokesperson for the family – had held it together this entire time. Now, she breaks down. We all wait as I hand her a box of tissues. I look down, channeling all of my energy into not crying in front of her.
He’s waking up, one of us notes.
She goes over. “I need to ask him,” she says.
“Papa.”
At first he doesn’t answer.
“Papa, do you want the breathing tube?”
“No,” he says.
“Without it you can die. You know that, Papa?”
“No breathing tube,” he says.
“OK,” she turns to us, with tears of sadness but also what seems like relief.
Forty-eight hours later, he passed away. His family had time to come in, and he had periods of alertness where he could speak with them. They were able to say good-bye. He was able to say I love you.
Another patient’s wife once told me he had given her the “gift of clarity” when he plainly stated before he passed that he didn’t want to be saved. She didn’t have to make the decision for him, and neither did the doctors. I liked that term, and I thought about it then.
I am grateful my patient’s wishes were clear. But we aren’t always so lucky. It’s a chilling part of the job description, being a gatekeeper to the question: Is this the end?
Dr. Yurkiewicz is a fellow in hematology and oncology at Stanford (Calif.) University. Follow her on Twitter @ilanayurkiewicz.
One evening as the oncology fellow on call, I received a phone call from the ICU fellow.
“Can you meet me in the emergency room?” he asked. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
A patient we had discharged from the hospital 2 days before was back. He had metastatic stomach cancer that had spread into his lungs and the lymph nodes in his chest. While he was in the hospital, he had required several liters of oxygen to maintain a normal work of breathing.
But now, he was in the emergency room, he was requiring a full face mask to help him breathe – and his oxygen levels were still dropping.
The ICU had been called. The next step along the algorithm of worsening breathing would be intubation. They would have to sedate him, put a breathing tube down his throat, and connect him to a ventilator to keep him alive.
But they didn’t want to do that if he was dying from his cancer.
Hence the call to me. My job, as the oncologist on call, was to answer the question: Is he dying?
Specifically, that meant weigh in on his cancer prognosis. Put his disease into context. Does he have any more options, chemotherapy or otherwise?
As an oncology fellow, I’ve found this to be one of the most common calls I get. Someone is critically ill and they need something to survive – maybe it’s intubation; maybe it’s surgery. The patient also happens to have metastatic cancer. The question posed to me is: Should we proceed?
It’s also one of the most difficult calls. Because doctors are historically bad at prognosticating. Because often I’m meeting the patient for the first time. Because the decision is huge and often final, and because both options are bad.
Suppose I say he has a good year or 2 ahead of him, and we intubate him – and then he never comes off the ventilator. We are eventually forced to withdraw care, and to the family it’s as though they are killing their father. It’s traumatic; it’s painful; and it deprives someone of a comfortable passing. Suppose I say he is dying from his cancer and we decide against a breathing tube. If I am wrong in that direction, a person’s life is cut short. It’s a perfect storm of high risk and low certainty.
Many people with metastatic cancer say they wouldn’t want invasive treatment near the end of life. But how do we know when it’s the end? There is still a moment when you must determine: Is this it? The truth is it’s not always clear.
Whenever I can, I reach out to the primary oncologist who knows the patient best. Then, I do a quick search for something reversible. Did the patient take too much morphine at home, and should we trial a dose of Narcan? Does he have a pneumonia that could be cured with antibiotics, a blood clot that could improve with blood thinners, or some extra fluid that can be diuresed? But usually it’s a mix, and even if there is a reversible injury, it can tip the very ill person over to the irreversible. This is how passing away from an aggressive cancer plays out.
Down in the emergency room, my patient’s breathing is rapid. His chest is heaving. The nurse shows me his blood gas with a carbon dioxide level more than twice the upper limit of normal. Now fading in and out of consciousness, he is a different man from the one who had walked out of the hospital 2 days earlier.
His daughter stands next to him. “He always said he wanted to do everything. I think we should give the breathing tube a try,” she says.
I tell her my concerns. I am afraid if we do it the likelihood of ever coming off is slim. And if we place a breathing tube he would have to be sedated so as not to be uncomfortable, and you won’t be able to communicate with him. You can’t say good bye, or I love you. If we keep the mask, he may wake up enough to interact.
The daughter – whom I knew well from prior visits, who was always articulate and poised and the spokesperson for the family – had held it together this entire time. Now, she breaks down. We all wait as I hand her a box of tissues. I look down, channeling all of my energy into not crying in front of her.
He’s waking up, one of us notes.
She goes over. “I need to ask him,” she says.
“Papa.”
At first he doesn’t answer.
“Papa, do you want the breathing tube?”
“No,” he says.
“Without it you can die. You know that, Papa?”
“No breathing tube,” he says.
“OK,” she turns to us, with tears of sadness but also what seems like relief.
Forty-eight hours later, he passed away. His family had time to come in, and he had periods of alertness where he could speak with them. They were able to say good-bye. He was able to say I love you.
Another patient’s wife once told me he had given her the “gift of clarity” when he plainly stated before he passed that he didn’t want to be saved. She didn’t have to make the decision for him, and neither did the doctors. I liked that term, and I thought about it then.
I am grateful my patient’s wishes were clear. But we aren’t always so lucky. It’s a chilling part of the job description, being a gatekeeper to the question: Is this the end?
Dr. Yurkiewicz is a fellow in hematology and oncology at Stanford (Calif.) University. Follow her on Twitter @ilanayurkiewicz.
One evening as the oncology fellow on call, I received a phone call from the ICU fellow.
“Can you meet me in the emergency room?” he asked. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
A patient we had discharged from the hospital 2 days before was back. He had metastatic stomach cancer that had spread into his lungs and the lymph nodes in his chest. While he was in the hospital, he had required several liters of oxygen to maintain a normal work of breathing.
But now, he was in the emergency room, he was requiring a full face mask to help him breathe – and his oxygen levels were still dropping.
The ICU had been called. The next step along the algorithm of worsening breathing would be intubation. They would have to sedate him, put a breathing tube down his throat, and connect him to a ventilator to keep him alive.
But they didn’t want to do that if he was dying from his cancer.
Hence the call to me. My job, as the oncologist on call, was to answer the question: Is he dying?
Specifically, that meant weigh in on his cancer prognosis. Put his disease into context. Does he have any more options, chemotherapy or otherwise?
As an oncology fellow, I’ve found this to be one of the most common calls I get. Someone is critically ill and they need something to survive – maybe it’s intubation; maybe it’s surgery. The patient also happens to have metastatic cancer. The question posed to me is: Should we proceed?
It’s also one of the most difficult calls. Because doctors are historically bad at prognosticating. Because often I’m meeting the patient for the first time. Because the decision is huge and often final, and because both options are bad.
Suppose I say he has a good year or 2 ahead of him, and we intubate him – and then he never comes off the ventilator. We are eventually forced to withdraw care, and to the family it’s as though they are killing their father. It’s traumatic; it’s painful; and it deprives someone of a comfortable passing. Suppose I say he is dying from his cancer and we decide against a breathing tube. If I am wrong in that direction, a person’s life is cut short. It’s a perfect storm of high risk and low certainty.
Many people with metastatic cancer say they wouldn’t want invasive treatment near the end of life. But how do we know when it’s the end? There is still a moment when you must determine: Is this it? The truth is it’s not always clear.
Whenever I can, I reach out to the primary oncologist who knows the patient best. Then, I do a quick search for something reversible. Did the patient take too much morphine at home, and should we trial a dose of Narcan? Does he have a pneumonia that could be cured with antibiotics, a blood clot that could improve with blood thinners, or some extra fluid that can be diuresed? But usually it’s a mix, and even if there is a reversible injury, it can tip the very ill person over to the irreversible. This is how passing away from an aggressive cancer plays out.
Down in the emergency room, my patient’s breathing is rapid. His chest is heaving. The nurse shows me his blood gas with a carbon dioxide level more than twice the upper limit of normal. Now fading in and out of consciousness, he is a different man from the one who had walked out of the hospital 2 days earlier.
His daughter stands next to him. “He always said he wanted to do everything. I think we should give the breathing tube a try,” she says.
I tell her my concerns. I am afraid if we do it the likelihood of ever coming off is slim. And if we place a breathing tube he would have to be sedated so as not to be uncomfortable, and you won’t be able to communicate with him. You can’t say good bye, or I love you. If we keep the mask, he may wake up enough to interact.
The daughter – whom I knew well from prior visits, who was always articulate and poised and the spokesperson for the family – had held it together this entire time. Now, she breaks down. We all wait as I hand her a box of tissues. I look down, channeling all of my energy into not crying in front of her.
He’s waking up, one of us notes.
She goes over. “I need to ask him,” she says.
“Papa.”
At first he doesn’t answer.
“Papa, do you want the breathing tube?”
“No,” he says.
“Without it you can die. You know that, Papa?”
“No breathing tube,” he says.
“OK,” she turns to us, with tears of sadness but also what seems like relief.
Forty-eight hours later, he passed away. His family had time to come in, and he had periods of alertness where he could speak with them. They were able to say good-bye. He was able to say I love you.
Another patient’s wife once told me he had given her the “gift of clarity” when he plainly stated before he passed that he didn’t want to be saved. She didn’t have to make the decision for him, and neither did the doctors. I liked that term, and I thought about it then.
I am grateful my patient’s wishes were clear. But we aren’t always so lucky. It’s a chilling part of the job description, being a gatekeeper to the question: Is this the end?
Dr. Yurkiewicz is a fellow in hematology and oncology at Stanford (Calif.) University. Follow her on Twitter @ilanayurkiewicz.
Stay tuned
Two events that will impact our practices occurred in November: 1) an election and 2) the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services final rule. The election returned us to a split government with Democrats controlling the U.S. House and Republicans controlling the Senate (without a filibuster-proof majority). This means that ACA repeal and dramatic alterations to Medicaid will be off the table. Pressures on ACA’s margins will remain in both the legislative and judicial arms of government. Federal and state governments will continue to try to stabilize the individual markets by using reinsurance and premium support. The number of states expanding Medicaid eligibility will continue to grow (now at 37). There will be further pressure on drug pricing, likely targeted to Part B and 340b drugs. This will affect academic centers and hospital margins substantially.
CMS issued its final rule for the Physician Fee Schedule. AGA and the other GI societies have published a detailed member alert that can be found here. Key points involve simplified documentation for evaluation and management visits, site-neutrality reimbursement for clinic visits, identification of colonoscopy and EGD codes for CMS review, and changes in calculating practice expense, among others. MACRA rules are evolving with further pressure on practices and health systems to evolve into alternative payment models. Commercial insurers are finally near a tipping point in pressing for two-sided risk contracts. Practices should be alert for local and regional pressures around price transparency and narrow networks. Health systems (including academic centers) must plan for margin reductions due to changes in pharmacy reimbursement, network price tiering, a continued shift toward government payers, and other pressures that could drive large systems into the red.
For the first time since 1996, discretionary programs including NIH, CDC, AHRQ, and VA research all have been included in a budget (as opposed to a Continuing Resolution) that was passed by Congress and signed into law. This gives us some stability and predictability; however, the looming (and increasing) budget deficit will prompt Congress to increase fiscal pressure on domestic programs such as Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid. Stay tuned and stay involved.
John I. Allen, MD, MBA, AGAF
Editor in Chief
Two events that will impact our practices occurred in November: 1) an election and 2) the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services final rule. The election returned us to a split government with Democrats controlling the U.S. House and Republicans controlling the Senate (without a filibuster-proof majority). This means that ACA repeal and dramatic alterations to Medicaid will be off the table. Pressures on ACA’s margins will remain in both the legislative and judicial arms of government. Federal and state governments will continue to try to stabilize the individual markets by using reinsurance and premium support. The number of states expanding Medicaid eligibility will continue to grow (now at 37). There will be further pressure on drug pricing, likely targeted to Part B and 340b drugs. This will affect academic centers and hospital margins substantially.
CMS issued its final rule for the Physician Fee Schedule. AGA and the other GI societies have published a detailed member alert that can be found here. Key points involve simplified documentation for evaluation and management visits, site-neutrality reimbursement for clinic visits, identification of colonoscopy and EGD codes for CMS review, and changes in calculating practice expense, among others. MACRA rules are evolving with further pressure on practices and health systems to evolve into alternative payment models. Commercial insurers are finally near a tipping point in pressing for two-sided risk contracts. Practices should be alert for local and regional pressures around price transparency and narrow networks. Health systems (including academic centers) must plan for margin reductions due to changes in pharmacy reimbursement, network price tiering, a continued shift toward government payers, and other pressures that could drive large systems into the red.
For the first time since 1996, discretionary programs including NIH, CDC, AHRQ, and VA research all have been included in a budget (as opposed to a Continuing Resolution) that was passed by Congress and signed into law. This gives us some stability and predictability; however, the looming (and increasing) budget deficit will prompt Congress to increase fiscal pressure on domestic programs such as Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid. Stay tuned and stay involved.
John I. Allen, MD, MBA, AGAF
Editor in Chief
Two events that will impact our practices occurred in November: 1) an election and 2) the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services final rule. The election returned us to a split government with Democrats controlling the U.S. House and Republicans controlling the Senate (without a filibuster-proof majority). This means that ACA repeal and dramatic alterations to Medicaid will be off the table. Pressures on ACA’s margins will remain in both the legislative and judicial arms of government. Federal and state governments will continue to try to stabilize the individual markets by using reinsurance and premium support. The number of states expanding Medicaid eligibility will continue to grow (now at 37). There will be further pressure on drug pricing, likely targeted to Part B and 340b drugs. This will affect academic centers and hospital margins substantially.
CMS issued its final rule for the Physician Fee Schedule. AGA and the other GI societies have published a detailed member alert that can be found here. Key points involve simplified documentation for evaluation and management visits, site-neutrality reimbursement for clinic visits, identification of colonoscopy and EGD codes for CMS review, and changes in calculating practice expense, among others. MACRA rules are evolving with further pressure on practices and health systems to evolve into alternative payment models. Commercial insurers are finally near a tipping point in pressing for two-sided risk contracts. Practices should be alert for local and regional pressures around price transparency and narrow networks. Health systems (including academic centers) must plan for margin reductions due to changes in pharmacy reimbursement, network price tiering, a continued shift toward government payers, and other pressures that could drive large systems into the red.
For the first time since 1996, discretionary programs including NIH, CDC, AHRQ, and VA research all have been included in a budget (as opposed to a Continuing Resolution) that was passed by Congress and signed into law. This gives us some stability and predictability; however, the looming (and increasing) budget deficit will prompt Congress to increase fiscal pressure on domestic programs such as Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid. Stay tuned and stay involved.
John I. Allen, MD, MBA, AGAF
Editor in Chief
