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A shot in the arm
As the COVID-19 vaccine candidates have begun to roll off the production lines into the distribution networks by the millions, media coverage almost universally includes a still photo or video of someone receiving an injection. Ever observant, a retired lawyer friend of mine who learned to give shots when he was in the Army and again more recently while taking a wilderness survival course emailed me his concerns about what he felt were examples of poor injection technique. Included in his commentary was an Internet link in which a physician, who I suspect may have been a pediatrician, demonstrated what the physician considered proper intramuscular injection technique, which included a single-handed aspiration prior to giving the injection allowing the free hand to stabilize the patient’s – in this case a child’s – arm during the entire process.
I replied to my friend that I too was often troubled by what I considered to be poor injection technique. But, I said the physician in the link touting his improved technique was misguided. My understanding has been that unless the injection site is in the gluteus, there is no need aspirate prior to an intramuscular vaccine injection because the risk of intravascular injection is so small. I then confirmed this by reviewing the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Vaccine Recommendations and Guidelines of the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, which was updated in June 2019. Included in those recommendations was the observation that the vaccine administrator does not need to wear gloves unless he or she has open lesions or is at risk from contacting the recipient’s body fluids.
Like many of the technical skills one learns in training, giving intramuscular injections is probably an example of the “see one, do one, teach one” mantra. But in the case of giving shots, I don’t recall any teaching. Do you? It was more “see a dozen and get on with it.” Or maybe you trained in an environment in which nurses gave all the injections. I hope not.
When it comes to giving immunizations to children, the art is in entering into that encounter with a calm, matter-of-fact attitude and body language, hiding the needle, firmly restraining the child, and moving quickly and smoothly. Aspirating and glove donning merely add to the drama and waste time. But how did I learn that art? No one taught me. Like many clinical skills, I watched scores of nurses and physicians, mentally logging in their tricks and mistakes that would help me craft my style.
I always felt and still feel that providing immunizations was per hour spent, the most valuable investment of my time. Doing the injecting myself was both the most efficient way to provide the service, and also emphasized the importance that I placed on the immunization. In the process of my 40-plus–year career, that included several hundred thousand patient encounters in which I gave innumerable injections. And, I egotistically assumed that I was good at it because many infants never cried, and a few children said, “That didn’t hurt.” I suspect you can make the same claim.
Injecting millions of adults with a COVID-19 vaccine, on the other hand, is a piece of cake because restraining the recipient shouldn’t factor into the scenario. However, I wonder who is going to administer all those millions of injections and who is going to train them? How many of the trainers are aware of the CDC-ACIP guidelines? Or, are they going to fall back on old techniques that lack evidence support?
From the efficiency standpoint, it probably doesn’t make much difference. The injection takes but a few seconds. Filling out the paperwork and waiting for the recipient to figure out how to expose his or her deltoid can take fifty times that long.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
As the COVID-19 vaccine candidates have begun to roll off the production lines into the distribution networks by the millions, media coverage almost universally includes a still photo or video of someone receiving an injection. Ever observant, a retired lawyer friend of mine who learned to give shots when he was in the Army and again more recently while taking a wilderness survival course emailed me his concerns about what he felt were examples of poor injection technique. Included in his commentary was an Internet link in which a physician, who I suspect may have been a pediatrician, demonstrated what the physician considered proper intramuscular injection technique, which included a single-handed aspiration prior to giving the injection allowing the free hand to stabilize the patient’s – in this case a child’s – arm during the entire process.
I replied to my friend that I too was often troubled by what I considered to be poor injection technique. But, I said the physician in the link touting his improved technique was misguided. My understanding has been that unless the injection site is in the gluteus, there is no need aspirate prior to an intramuscular vaccine injection because the risk of intravascular injection is so small. I then confirmed this by reviewing the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Vaccine Recommendations and Guidelines of the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, which was updated in June 2019. Included in those recommendations was the observation that the vaccine administrator does not need to wear gloves unless he or she has open lesions or is at risk from contacting the recipient’s body fluids.
Like many of the technical skills one learns in training, giving intramuscular injections is probably an example of the “see one, do one, teach one” mantra. But in the case of giving shots, I don’t recall any teaching. Do you? It was more “see a dozen and get on with it.” Or maybe you trained in an environment in which nurses gave all the injections. I hope not.
When it comes to giving immunizations to children, the art is in entering into that encounter with a calm, matter-of-fact attitude and body language, hiding the needle, firmly restraining the child, and moving quickly and smoothly. Aspirating and glove donning merely add to the drama and waste time. But how did I learn that art? No one taught me. Like many clinical skills, I watched scores of nurses and physicians, mentally logging in their tricks and mistakes that would help me craft my style.
I always felt and still feel that providing immunizations was per hour spent, the most valuable investment of my time. Doing the injecting myself was both the most efficient way to provide the service, and also emphasized the importance that I placed on the immunization. In the process of my 40-plus–year career, that included several hundred thousand patient encounters in which I gave innumerable injections. And, I egotistically assumed that I was good at it because many infants never cried, and a few children said, “That didn’t hurt.” I suspect you can make the same claim.
Injecting millions of adults with a COVID-19 vaccine, on the other hand, is a piece of cake because restraining the recipient shouldn’t factor into the scenario. However, I wonder who is going to administer all those millions of injections and who is going to train them? How many of the trainers are aware of the CDC-ACIP guidelines? Or, are they going to fall back on old techniques that lack evidence support?
From the efficiency standpoint, it probably doesn’t make much difference. The injection takes but a few seconds. Filling out the paperwork and waiting for the recipient to figure out how to expose his or her deltoid can take fifty times that long.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
As the COVID-19 vaccine candidates have begun to roll off the production lines into the distribution networks by the millions, media coverage almost universally includes a still photo or video of someone receiving an injection. Ever observant, a retired lawyer friend of mine who learned to give shots when he was in the Army and again more recently while taking a wilderness survival course emailed me his concerns about what he felt were examples of poor injection technique. Included in his commentary was an Internet link in which a physician, who I suspect may have been a pediatrician, demonstrated what the physician considered proper intramuscular injection technique, which included a single-handed aspiration prior to giving the injection allowing the free hand to stabilize the patient’s – in this case a child’s – arm during the entire process.
I replied to my friend that I too was often troubled by what I considered to be poor injection technique. But, I said the physician in the link touting his improved technique was misguided. My understanding has been that unless the injection site is in the gluteus, there is no need aspirate prior to an intramuscular vaccine injection because the risk of intravascular injection is so small. I then confirmed this by reviewing the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Vaccine Recommendations and Guidelines of the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, which was updated in June 2019. Included in those recommendations was the observation that the vaccine administrator does not need to wear gloves unless he or she has open lesions or is at risk from contacting the recipient’s body fluids.
Like many of the technical skills one learns in training, giving intramuscular injections is probably an example of the “see one, do one, teach one” mantra. But in the case of giving shots, I don’t recall any teaching. Do you? It was more “see a dozen and get on with it.” Or maybe you trained in an environment in which nurses gave all the injections. I hope not.
When it comes to giving immunizations to children, the art is in entering into that encounter with a calm, matter-of-fact attitude and body language, hiding the needle, firmly restraining the child, and moving quickly and smoothly. Aspirating and glove donning merely add to the drama and waste time. But how did I learn that art? No one taught me. Like many clinical skills, I watched scores of nurses and physicians, mentally logging in their tricks and mistakes that would help me craft my style.
I always felt and still feel that providing immunizations was per hour spent, the most valuable investment of my time. Doing the injecting myself was both the most efficient way to provide the service, and also emphasized the importance that I placed on the immunization. In the process of my 40-plus–year career, that included several hundred thousand patient encounters in which I gave innumerable injections. And, I egotistically assumed that I was good at it because many infants never cried, and a few children said, “That didn’t hurt.” I suspect you can make the same claim.
Injecting millions of adults with a COVID-19 vaccine, on the other hand, is a piece of cake because restraining the recipient shouldn’t factor into the scenario. However, I wonder who is going to administer all those millions of injections and who is going to train them? How many of the trainers are aware of the CDC-ACIP guidelines? Or, are they going to fall back on old techniques that lack evidence support?
From the efficiency standpoint, it probably doesn’t make much difference. The injection takes but a few seconds. Filling out the paperwork and waiting for the recipient to figure out how to expose his or her deltoid can take fifty times that long.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
The unsteady state
As the COVID-19 pandemic continues to chug along, some communities feel it slowing to a pace at which they might feel comfortable about a return to, if not quite “business as usual,” at least “business as sort of normal-ish.” They are ready to accept a level of disease that signals they have reached a steady state. However, in other communities, the virus has picked up speed and is threatening to overwhelm the medical infrastructure. If you are in one of those fortunate and skillfully managed states in which folks are beginning to talk seriously, but with little evidence, that it is time to return to normal, it is probably far too early. 
Eons ago in pandemic terms, the World Health Organization in Thailand published a list of criteria to aid in determining when a community could consider lifting the limits that seemed to have been effective in halting transmission of the virus (“Transitioning to and maintaining a steady state of low-level or no transmission,” WHO, Thailand, 2020 Apr 18). While much more has been learned about the behavior of the virus since the spring of 2020, the criteria from the WHO in Thailand are worth considering.
Here is my summary of their criteria for returning to normalcy. First, virus transmission is controlled to the point that only sporadic cases and small clusters exist, and that all of these are traceable in origin. Second, health care and public health systems are in place with sufficient capacities to manage a shift from detection to treatment should the case load increase dramatically; this capacity should include detection, testing, isolation, and quarantine. Third, outbreaks in high-risk populations such as nursing homes have been minimized. Fourth, workplace prevention strategies are in place and have been demonstrated to be effective. Fifth, risk of imported cases is at manageable levels. Finally, communities are engaged.
It is hard to argue with the rationale behind each of these criteria. However, the United States is not Thailand, and just thinking about how this country would go about meeting those criteria provides a window into some of the reasons why we have done so poorly and will continue to be challenged in dealing with the pandemic.
First, notice that the criteria make no mention of a vaccine. One gets the sense that from the top down our country is banking too heavily on the effectiveness and widespread delivery of a vaccine. Even if and when a vaccine is developed and delivered, all of these criteria still must be met and kept in mind for a future pandemic.
Second, the criteria call for an effective health care system, but it is abundantly clear that the United States does not have a cohesive health care system and probably won’t for the foreseeable future. The best we can hope for is individual states cobbling together their own systems, which may in turn serve as examples for those states who haven’t had the foresight. We have had a public health system of sorts, but its credibility and effectiveness has been neutered to the point that again we must rely on each state’s ability to see through the haze and create it’s own systems for detection, testing, tracking, isolating, and quarantining – often with little help in materiel support from the federal government. The sliver of good news is that, after a bit of a stumbling start, detecting and limiting the importation of cases from abroad is being addressed.
We continue to hear and see evidence that there are segments of the population who are not engaged in the activities that we have learned are necessary to stabilize the pandemic. My sense is that those people represent a very small minority. But, it is probably large enough to make the route to a steady state on a national level long and painful. This unfortunately is to be expected in a country that was built on a framework of personal freedoms. The best you can hope for in achieving a steady state is to live in one of the states that seems to be achieving the fine balance between personal freedoms and the common good.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
As the COVID-19 pandemic continues to chug along, some communities feel it slowing to a pace at which they might feel comfortable about a return to, if not quite “business as usual,” at least “business as sort of normal-ish.” They are ready to accept a level of disease that signals they have reached a steady state. However, in other communities, the virus has picked up speed and is threatening to overwhelm the medical infrastructure. If you are in one of those fortunate and skillfully managed states in which folks are beginning to talk seriously, but with little evidence, that it is time to return to normal, it is probably far too early.
Eons ago in pandemic terms, the World Health Organization in Thailand published a list of criteria to aid in determining when a community could consider lifting the limits that seemed to have been effective in halting transmission of the virus (“Transitioning to and maintaining a steady state of low-level or no transmission,” WHO, Thailand, 2020 Apr 18). While much more has been learned about the behavior of the virus since the spring of 2020, the criteria from the WHO in Thailand are worth considering.
Here is my summary of their criteria for returning to normalcy. First, virus transmission is controlled to the point that only sporadic cases and small clusters exist, and that all of these are traceable in origin. Second, health care and public health systems are in place with sufficient capacities to manage a shift from detection to treatment should the case load increase dramatically; this capacity should include detection, testing, isolation, and quarantine. Third, outbreaks in high-risk populations such as nursing homes have been minimized. Fourth, workplace prevention strategies are in place and have been demonstrated to be effective. Fifth, risk of imported cases is at manageable levels. Finally, communities are engaged.
It is hard to argue with the rationale behind each of these criteria. However, the United States is not Thailand, and just thinking about how this country would go about meeting those criteria provides a window into some of the reasons why we have done so poorly and will continue to be challenged in dealing with the pandemic.
First, notice that the criteria make no mention of a vaccine. One gets the sense that from the top down our country is banking too heavily on the effectiveness and widespread delivery of a vaccine. Even if and when a vaccine is developed and delivered, all of these criteria still must be met and kept in mind for a future pandemic.
Second, the criteria call for an effective health care system, but it is abundantly clear that the United States does not have a cohesive health care system and probably won’t for the foreseeable future. The best we can hope for is individual states cobbling together their own systems, which may in turn serve as examples for those states who haven’t had the foresight. We have had a public health system of sorts, but its credibility and effectiveness has been neutered to the point that again we must rely on each state’s ability to see through the haze and create it’s own systems for detection, testing, tracking, isolating, and quarantining – often with little help in materiel support from the federal government. The sliver of good news is that, after a bit of a stumbling start, detecting and limiting the importation of cases from abroad is being addressed.
We continue to hear and see evidence that there are segments of the population who are not engaged in the activities that we have learned are necessary to stabilize the pandemic. My sense is that those people represent a very small minority. But, it is probably large enough to make the route to a steady state on a national level long and painful. This unfortunately is to be expected in a country that was built on a framework of personal freedoms. The best you can hope for in achieving a steady state is to live in one of the states that seems to be achieving the fine balance between personal freedoms and the common good.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
As the COVID-19 pandemic continues to chug along, some communities feel it slowing to a pace at which they might feel comfortable about a return to, if not quite “business as usual,” at least “business as sort of normal-ish.” They are ready to accept a level of disease that signals they have reached a steady state. However, in other communities, the virus has picked up speed and is threatening to overwhelm the medical infrastructure. If you are in one of those fortunate and skillfully managed states in which folks are beginning to talk seriously, but with little evidence, that it is time to return to normal, it is probably far too early.
Eons ago in pandemic terms, the World Health Organization in Thailand published a list of criteria to aid in determining when a community could consider lifting the limits that seemed to have been effective in halting transmission of the virus (“Transitioning to and maintaining a steady state of low-level or no transmission,” WHO, Thailand, 2020 Apr 18). While much more has been learned about the behavior of the virus since the spring of 2020, the criteria from the WHO in Thailand are worth considering.
Here is my summary of their criteria for returning to normalcy. First, virus transmission is controlled to the point that only sporadic cases and small clusters exist, and that all of these are traceable in origin. Second, health care and public health systems are in place with sufficient capacities to manage a shift from detection to treatment should the case load increase dramatically; this capacity should include detection, testing, isolation, and quarantine. Third, outbreaks in high-risk populations such as nursing homes have been minimized. Fourth, workplace prevention strategies are in place and have been demonstrated to be effective. Fifth, risk of imported cases is at manageable levels. Finally, communities are engaged.
It is hard to argue with the rationale behind each of these criteria. However, the United States is not Thailand, and just thinking about how this country would go about meeting those criteria provides a window into some of the reasons why we have done so poorly and will continue to be challenged in dealing with the pandemic.
First, notice that the criteria make no mention of a vaccine. One gets the sense that from the top down our country is banking too heavily on the effectiveness and widespread delivery of a vaccine. Even if and when a vaccine is developed and delivered, all of these criteria still must be met and kept in mind for a future pandemic.
Second, the criteria call for an effective health care system, but it is abundantly clear that the United States does not have a cohesive health care system and probably won’t for the foreseeable future. The best we can hope for is individual states cobbling together their own systems, which may in turn serve as examples for those states who haven’t had the foresight. We have had a public health system of sorts, but its credibility and effectiveness has been neutered to the point that again we must rely on each state’s ability to see through the haze and create it’s own systems for detection, testing, tracking, isolating, and quarantining – often with little help in materiel support from the federal government. The sliver of good news is that, after a bit of a stumbling start, detecting and limiting the importation of cases from abroad is being addressed.
We continue to hear and see evidence that there are segments of the population who are not engaged in the activities that we have learned are necessary to stabilize the pandemic. My sense is that those people represent a very small minority. But, it is probably large enough to make the route to a steady state on a national level long and painful. This unfortunately is to be expected in a country that was built on a framework of personal freedoms. The best you can hope for in achieving a steady state is to live in one of the states that seems to be achieving the fine balance between personal freedoms and the common good.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
Learning about “No”
To say that the pandemic has dropped us into uncharted territory is an understatement of unmeasurable proportions. Every day we learn more about it, and every day that new information brings us new challenges. COVID-19 is playing by its own set of rules. To keep pace with it societies have been forced to adapt to them, and members of those societies have had to realize that these new rules must be obeyed or be prepared to suffer the consequences.
I’m not sure exactly when it happened but gradually over my 7 and a half decades on this planet it appears that following the rules and understanding the value of “No” have become concepts to be ignored and left to gather dust in the attics and basements of our society. The tug of war between well-considered rules and the often misinterpreted concept of freedom has been ebbing and flowing since Eve plucked a forbidden apple off that tree.
In some parts of the world, the twin skills of saying and responding to “No” have become lost arts. I think it is not by chance that, of the four books I have written for parents, the one titled “How to Say No to Your Toddler” has become the most widely distributed, having been translated into Italian, Polish, and Russian. It is only slightly comforting to learn that at least some parents understand that creating rules can be important, but realize they aren’t quite sure how go about it.
As it has become clear that social distancing and mask wearing are associated with curtailing the spread of COVID-19, state and local governments have had to bone up on their long-forgotten No-saying skills. This relearning process has been particularly painful for school administrators who may have been warned that “You’ll never be able to get first and second graders to wear masks” or that “College students just won’t obey the rules.”
Both of these cautions are based on observations by educators with years of experience and certainly have a ring of truth to them. But could it be that these pessimistic predictions reflect a society in which parents and educators have lost the talent for crafting sensible rules and linking them to enforceable and rational consequences?
As colleges throughout the country have reopened using a variety of learning and residential strategies, there have been numerous incidents that validate the gloomy predictions of student misbehavior. Smaller schools seem to be having less difficulty, which is not surprising given their relative ease in fostering a sense of community. Many schools have been forced to rollback their plans for in-person learning because students have failed to follow some very simple but unpopular rules.
In a swift and decisive response to student misbehavior, Northeastern University in Boston dismissed 11 first-year students and will not refund their tuition when officials discovered a prohibited social gathering in one of the resident facilities (“Northeastern Dismisses 11 Students for Gathering in Violation of COVID-19 Policies,” by Ian Thomsen, News at Northwestern). This response seemed to have come as a surprise to many students and parents around the country who have become accustomed a diet of warnings and minor sanctions.
Whether this action by Northeastern will trigger similar responses by other universities remains to be seen. But we can hope that it sets an example of how learning about “No” can be an important part of one’s education.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
To say that the pandemic has dropped us into uncharted territory is an understatement of unmeasurable proportions. Every day we learn more about it, and every day that new information brings us new challenges. COVID-19 is playing by its own set of rules. To keep pace with it societies have been forced to adapt to them, and members of those societies have had to realize that these new rules must be obeyed or be prepared to suffer the consequences.
I’m not sure exactly when it happened but gradually over my 7 and a half decades on this planet it appears that following the rules and understanding the value of “No” have become concepts to be ignored and left to gather dust in the attics and basements of our society. The tug of war between well-considered rules and the often misinterpreted concept of freedom has been ebbing and flowing since Eve plucked a forbidden apple off that tree.
In some parts of the world, the twin skills of saying and responding to “No” have become lost arts. I think it is not by chance that, of the four books I have written for parents, the one titled “How to Say No to Your Toddler” has become the most widely distributed, having been translated into Italian, Polish, and Russian. It is only slightly comforting to learn that at least some parents understand that creating rules can be important, but realize they aren’t quite sure how go about it.
As it has become clear that social distancing and mask wearing are associated with curtailing the spread of COVID-19, state and local governments have had to bone up on their long-forgotten No-saying skills. This relearning process has been particularly painful for school administrators who may have been warned that “You’ll never be able to get first and second graders to wear masks” or that “College students just won’t obey the rules.”
Both of these cautions are based on observations by educators with years of experience and certainly have a ring of truth to them. But could it be that these pessimistic predictions reflect a society in which parents and educators have lost the talent for crafting sensible rules and linking them to enforceable and rational consequences?
As colleges throughout the country have reopened using a variety of learning and residential strategies, there have been numerous incidents that validate the gloomy predictions of student misbehavior. Smaller schools seem to be having less difficulty, which is not surprising given their relative ease in fostering a sense of community. Many schools have been forced to rollback their plans for in-person learning because students have failed to follow some very simple but unpopular rules.
In a swift and decisive response to student misbehavior, Northeastern University in Boston dismissed 11 first-year students and will not refund their tuition when officials discovered a prohibited social gathering in one of the resident facilities (“Northeastern Dismisses 11 Students for Gathering in Violation of COVID-19 Policies,” by Ian Thomsen, News at Northwestern). This response seemed to have come as a surprise to many students and parents around the country who have become accustomed a diet of warnings and minor sanctions.
Whether this action by Northeastern will trigger similar responses by other universities remains to be seen. But we can hope that it sets an example of how learning about “No” can be an important part of one’s education.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
To say that the pandemic has dropped us into uncharted territory is an understatement of unmeasurable proportions. Every day we learn more about it, and every day that new information brings us new challenges. COVID-19 is playing by its own set of rules. To keep pace with it societies have been forced to adapt to them, and members of those societies have had to realize that these new rules must be obeyed or be prepared to suffer the consequences.
I’m not sure exactly when it happened but gradually over my 7 and a half decades on this planet it appears that following the rules and understanding the value of “No” have become concepts to be ignored and left to gather dust in the attics and basements of our society. The tug of war between well-considered rules and the often misinterpreted concept of freedom has been ebbing and flowing since Eve plucked a forbidden apple off that tree.
In some parts of the world, the twin skills of saying and responding to “No” have become lost arts. I think it is not by chance that, of the four books I have written for parents, the one titled “How to Say No to Your Toddler” has become the most widely distributed, having been translated into Italian, Polish, and Russian. It is only slightly comforting to learn that at least some parents understand that creating rules can be important, but realize they aren’t quite sure how go about it.
As it has become clear that social distancing and mask wearing are associated with curtailing the spread of COVID-19, state and local governments have had to bone up on their long-forgotten No-saying skills. This relearning process has been particularly painful for school administrators who may have been warned that “You’ll never be able to get first and second graders to wear masks” or that “College students just won’t obey the rules.”
Both of these cautions are based on observations by educators with years of experience and certainly have a ring of truth to them. But could it be that these pessimistic predictions reflect a society in which parents and educators have lost the talent for crafting sensible rules and linking them to enforceable and rational consequences?
As colleges throughout the country have reopened using a variety of learning and residential strategies, there have been numerous incidents that validate the gloomy predictions of student misbehavior. Smaller schools seem to be having less difficulty, which is not surprising given their relative ease in fostering a sense of community. Many schools have been forced to rollback their plans for in-person learning because students have failed to follow some very simple but unpopular rules.
In a swift and decisive response to student misbehavior, Northeastern University in Boston dismissed 11 first-year students and will not refund their tuition when officials discovered a prohibited social gathering in one of the resident facilities (“Northeastern Dismisses 11 Students for Gathering in Violation of COVID-19 Policies,” by Ian Thomsen, News at Northwestern). This response seemed to have come as a surprise to many students and parents around the country who have become accustomed a diet of warnings and minor sanctions.
Whether this action by Northeastern will trigger similar responses by other universities remains to be seen. But we can hope that it sets an example of how learning about “No” can be an important part of one’s education.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
Returning to competition
As we continue to stumble around trying to find our way out of the COVID-19 pandemic, it has become clear that the journey has been a never-ending continuum of exercises in risk/benefit assessment. The population always has sorted itself into a bell-shaped curve from those who are risk averse to those who revel in risk taking. And, of course, with a paucity of facts on which we can base our assessment of risk, the discussion often shifts to our gut feelings about the benefits.
When faced with the question of when it is time for children to return to in-person schooling, there seems to be reasonably good agreement about the benefits of face-to-face learning. The level of risk is still to be determined.
When it comes to the issue of when to return to competitive school sports, the risks are equally indeterminate but there is less agreement on the benefits. This lack of uniformity reflects a long-standing dichotomy between those parents and students with a passion for competitive sports and those who see them as nonessential. This existential tug-of-war has gone on in almost every school system I am aware of when the school budget comes up for a vote.
The debate about a return to competitive sports on a collegiate and professional level unfortunately is colored by enormous revenues from media contracts, which means that high school and middle schools can’t look to what are essentially businesses for guidance. The delay created confusion, fluctuating angst and disappointment, but the end product made some sense. Volleyball (indoor) and football were indefinitely delayed. Heavy breathing between competitors separated by a couple of feet and protected only by a flimsy net or helmet cage seems like a risk not worth taking – at least until we have more information.
Other sports were allowed to start with restrictions based on existing social distancing mandates which include no locker rooms and no fans. Some rules such as no throw-ins for soccer didn’t make sense given what we are learning about the virus. But, for the most part, the compromises should result in a chance to reap the benefits of competition for the students whose families are willing to expose them to the yet to be fully determined risks.
There has been some grumbling from parents who see the no-fans mandate as a step too far. Until we know more about the risk of group gatherings outdoors, having no fans, including parents and grandparents, makes sense. In fact, to me it is a step long overdue and a rare sliver of silver lining to the pandemic. Competitive youth sports are for the kids. They are not meant to be entertainment events. Too often children are exposed to parental pressure (voiced and unvoiced) about their “performance” on the field. Neither my younger sister nor I can remember our parents going to any of my away football games in high school or any of my lacrosse games in college. I never felt the loss.
Will I miss watching my grandchildren compete? Of course I will miss it badly. However, giving kids some space to learn and enjoy the competition for itself in an atmosphere free of parental over-involvement will be a breath of fresh air. Something we need badly during this pandemic.
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].
As we continue to stumble around trying to find our way out of the COVID-19 pandemic, it has become clear that the journey has been a never-ending continuum of exercises in risk/benefit assessment. The population always has sorted itself into a bell-shaped curve from those who are risk averse to those who revel in risk taking. And, of course, with a paucity of facts on which we can base our assessment of risk, the discussion often shifts to our gut feelings about the benefits.
When faced with the question of when it is time for children to return to in-person schooling, there seems to be reasonably good agreement about the benefits of face-to-face learning. The level of risk is still to be determined.
When it comes to the issue of when to return to competitive school sports, the risks are equally indeterminate but there is less agreement on the benefits. This lack of uniformity reflects a long-standing dichotomy between those parents and students with a passion for competitive sports and those who see them as nonessential. This existential tug-of-war has gone on in almost every school system I am aware of when the school budget comes up for a vote.
The debate about a return to competitive sports on a collegiate and professional level unfortunately is colored by enormous revenues from media contracts, which means that high school and middle schools can’t look to what are essentially businesses for guidance. The delay created confusion, fluctuating angst and disappointment, but the end product made some sense. Volleyball (indoor) and football were indefinitely delayed. Heavy breathing between competitors separated by a couple of feet and protected only by a flimsy net or helmet cage seems like a risk not worth taking – at least until we have more information.
Other sports were allowed to start with restrictions based on existing social distancing mandates which include no locker rooms and no fans. Some rules such as no throw-ins for soccer didn’t make sense given what we are learning about the virus. But, for the most part, the compromises should result in a chance to reap the benefits of competition for the students whose families are willing to expose them to the yet to be fully determined risks.
There has been some grumbling from parents who see the no-fans mandate as a step too far. Until we know more about the risk of group gatherings outdoors, having no fans, including parents and grandparents, makes sense. In fact, to me it is a step long overdue and a rare sliver of silver lining to the pandemic. Competitive youth sports are for the kids. They are not meant to be entertainment events. Too often children are exposed to parental pressure (voiced and unvoiced) about their “performance” on the field. Neither my younger sister nor I can remember our parents going to any of my away football games in high school or any of my lacrosse games in college. I never felt the loss.
Will I miss watching my grandchildren compete? Of course I will miss it badly. However, giving kids some space to learn and enjoy the competition for itself in an atmosphere free of parental over-involvement will be a breath of fresh air. Something we need badly during this pandemic.
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].
As we continue to stumble around trying to find our way out of the COVID-19 pandemic, it has become clear that the journey has been a never-ending continuum of exercises in risk/benefit assessment. The population always has sorted itself into a bell-shaped curve from those who are risk averse to those who revel in risk taking. And, of course, with a paucity of facts on which we can base our assessment of risk, the discussion often shifts to our gut feelings about the benefits.
When faced with the question of when it is time for children to return to in-person schooling, there seems to be reasonably good agreement about the benefits of face-to-face learning. The level of risk is still to be determined.
When it comes to the issue of when to return to competitive school sports, the risks are equally indeterminate but there is less agreement on the benefits. This lack of uniformity reflects a long-standing dichotomy between those parents and students with a passion for competitive sports and those who see them as nonessential. This existential tug-of-war has gone on in almost every school system I am aware of when the school budget comes up for a vote.
The debate about a return to competitive sports on a collegiate and professional level unfortunately is colored by enormous revenues from media contracts, which means that high school and middle schools can’t look to what are essentially businesses for guidance. The delay created confusion, fluctuating angst and disappointment, but the end product made some sense. Volleyball (indoor) and football were indefinitely delayed. Heavy breathing between competitors separated by a couple of feet and protected only by a flimsy net or helmet cage seems like a risk not worth taking – at least until we have more information.
Other sports were allowed to start with restrictions based on existing social distancing mandates which include no locker rooms and no fans. Some rules such as no throw-ins for soccer didn’t make sense given what we are learning about the virus. But, for the most part, the compromises should result in a chance to reap the benefits of competition for the students whose families are willing to expose them to the yet to be fully determined risks.
There has been some grumbling from parents who see the no-fans mandate as a step too far. Until we know more about the risk of group gatherings outdoors, having no fans, including parents and grandparents, makes sense. In fact, to me it is a step long overdue and a rare sliver of silver lining to the pandemic. Competitive youth sports are for the kids. They are not meant to be entertainment events. Too often children are exposed to parental pressure (voiced and unvoiced) about their “performance” on the field. Neither my younger sister nor I can remember our parents going to any of my away football games in high school or any of my lacrosse games in college. I never felt the loss.
Will I miss watching my grandchildren compete? Of course I will miss it badly. However, giving kids some space to learn and enjoy the competition for itself in an atmosphere free of parental over-involvement will be a breath of fresh air. Something we need badly during this pandemic.
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].
Is depression contagious?
I previously wrote a column in which I discussed the possible relationship between television viewing and the risk of developing depression. In that column I mentioned that, while there is widespread suspicion that depression may have a genetic component, I was unaware of any strong evidence that this is the case. This week I encountered another study in the American Journal of Psychiatry that suggests that the environment in which a child is raised can play a significant role in whether he or she will develop depression.
All of the children in the study had been born to families in which at least one biological parent had been diagnosed with major depression. There were nearly 700 full sibships and 2,600 half sibships studied. The researchers found that children who had been adopted away and raised in families that had been selected for having high-quality childrearing standards were significantly less likely to develop depression (23% for full siblings, 19% for half siblings) than their siblings who had remained in the home of their biological parents. It is interesting that this protective effect of the adoptive home “disappeared when an adoptive parent or stepsibling had major depression or the adoptive home was disrupted by parental death or divorce.”
It is unlikely that this study ever will be replicated because of the unique manner in which these Swedish adoptions were managed and recorded. However, and probably even more of an influence than genetics.
Are you surprised by the results of this study? Or, like me, have you always suspected that a child growing up in a household with a depressed, missing, or divorced parent was at increased risk of becoming depressed, particularly they had a genetic vulnerability? How will you change your approach to families with a depressed parent or ones that are navigating through the stormy waters of even an amicable divorce? Will you be more diligent about screening children in these families for depression? Should the agencies that are responsible for managing adoption and foster home placement include this new information in their screening criteria?
It would be very interesting to see a similar study performed using families in which a biological parent had been diagnosed with anxiety or an attention-deficit disorder. Could it mean that we should be considering depression and these conditions as contagious disorders? The results from such studies might help provide clarity to why we are seeing more children with mental health complaints. They might explain why pediatricians are seeing an increasing frequency of mental health complaints in our offices. It may not be too far-fetched to use epidemiologic terms when we are talking about depression, anxiety, and ADHD. Should we be considering these conditions to be contagious under certain circumstances?
Since the human genome has been sequenced I sense that our attention has become overfocused on using what we are learning about our DNA to explain what makes us sick. It may be time to swing the pendulum back a few degrees and remind ourselves of the power of the family environment.
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].
I previously wrote a column in which I discussed the possible relationship between television viewing and the risk of developing depression. In that column I mentioned that, while there is widespread suspicion that depression may have a genetic component, I was unaware of any strong evidence that this is the case. This week I encountered another study in the American Journal of Psychiatry that suggests that the environment in which a child is raised can play a significant role in whether he or she will develop depression.
All of the children in the study had been born to families in which at least one biological parent had been diagnosed with major depression. There were nearly 700 full sibships and 2,600 half sibships studied. The researchers found that children who had been adopted away and raised in families that had been selected for having high-quality childrearing standards were significantly less likely to develop depression (23% for full siblings, 19% for half siblings) than their siblings who had remained in the home of their biological parents. It is interesting that this protective effect of the adoptive home “disappeared when an adoptive parent or stepsibling had major depression or the adoptive home was disrupted by parental death or divorce.”
It is unlikely that this study ever will be replicated because of the unique manner in which these Swedish adoptions were managed and recorded. However, and probably even more of an influence than genetics.
Are you surprised by the results of this study? Or, like me, have you always suspected that a child growing up in a household with a depressed, missing, or divorced parent was at increased risk of becoming depressed, particularly they had a genetic vulnerability? How will you change your approach to families with a depressed parent or ones that are navigating through the stormy waters of even an amicable divorce? Will you be more diligent about screening children in these families for depression? Should the agencies that are responsible for managing adoption and foster home placement include this new information in their screening criteria?
It would be very interesting to see a similar study performed using families in which a biological parent had been diagnosed with anxiety or an attention-deficit disorder. Could it mean that we should be considering depression and these conditions as contagious disorders? The results from such studies might help provide clarity to why we are seeing more children with mental health complaints. They might explain why pediatricians are seeing an increasing frequency of mental health complaints in our offices. It may not be too far-fetched to use epidemiologic terms when we are talking about depression, anxiety, and ADHD. Should we be considering these conditions to be contagious under certain circumstances?
Since the human genome has been sequenced I sense that our attention has become overfocused on using what we are learning about our DNA to explain what makes us sick. It may be time to swing the pendulum back a few degrees and remind ourselves of the power of the family environment.
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].
I previously wrote a column in which I discussed the possible relationship between television viewing and the risk of developing depression. In that column I mentioned that, while there is widespread suspicion that depression may have a genetic component, I was unaware of any strong evidence that this is the case. This week I encountered another study in the American Journal of Psychiatry that suggests that the environment in which a child is raised can play a significant role in whether he or she will develop depression.
All of the children in the study had been born to families in which at least one biological parent had been diagnosed with major depression. There were nearly 700 full sibships and 2,600 half sibships studied. The researchers found that children who had been adopted away and raised in families that had been selected for having high-quality childrearing standards were significantly less likely to develop depression (23% for full siblings, 19% for half siblings) than their siblings who had remained in the home of their biological parents. It is interesting that this protective effect of the adoptive home “disappeared when an adoptive parent or stepsibling had major depression or the adoptive home was disrupted by parental death or divorce.”
It is unlikely that this study ever will be replicated because of the unique manner in which these Swedish adoptions were managed and recorded. However, and probably even more of an influence than genetics.
Are you surprised by the results of this study? Or, like me, have you always suspected that a child growing up in a household with a depressed, missing, or divorced parent was at increased risk of becoming depressed, particularly they had a genetic vulnerability? How will you change your approach to families with a depressed parent or ones that are navigating through the stormy waters of even an amicable divorce? Will you be more diligent about screening children in these families for depression? Should the agencies that are responsible for managing adoption and foster home placement include this new information in their screening criteria?
It would be very interesting to see a similar study performed using families in which a biological parent had been diagnosed with anxiety or an attention-deficit disorder. Could it mean that we should be considering depression and these conditions as contagious disorders? The results from such studies might help provide clarity to why we are seeing more children with mental health complaints. They might explain why pediatricians are seeing an increasing frequency of mental health complaints in our offices. It may not be too far-fetched to use epidemiologic terms when we are talking about depression, anxiety, and ADHD. Should we be considering these conditions to be contagious under certain circumstances?
Since the human genome has been sequenced I sense that our attention has become overfocused on using what we are learning about our DNA to explain what makes us sick. It may be time to swing the pendulum back a few degrees and remind ourselves of the power of the family environment.
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].
TV watching linked to depression
While anxiety was at the top of my list of emotional states that generated office visits in my pediatric practice, depression always ran a close second. Not infrequently, patients would report symptoms that suggested they were harboring both morbidities.
Although some families appear to be prone to depression, I’m not aware that a definable genetic basis has been discovered. Like me, you may have wondered what factors determine whether an individual will become depressed or merely be unhappy when things aren’t going well. We all have known people who have weathered disappointment and life-altering calamities without even a hint of being depressed. On the other hand you probably have met numerous patients and acquaintances who have become significantly depressed as the result of simply worrying that some disaster might befall them.
Is this variable vulnerability to depression the result of some as yet undiscovered neurotransmitter? Or are there certain lifestyle features that make individuals more prone to depression? Or ... could it be both? In other words are there behaviors that can tweak a person’s telomeres in such a way that triggers a biochemical cascade that results in depression?
A recent paper in the American Journal of Psychiatry doesn’t drill down through the genetic and biochemical strata, but it does suggest that there are “modifiable” behaviors that may contribute to depression. The researchers based at Harvard Medical School in Boston accessed a database of more than 100,000 adults in the United Kingdom. With use of a two-stage method that included a strategy similar to that employed for identifying genetic risk factors for disease, the researchers scanned a large number of factors that they considered modifiable, searching for those that might be associated with the development of depression.
Not surprisingly, they discovered that those respondents who more frequently confided in others and more frequently visited with family and friends were less likely to become depressed. Of course, this protective effect of social connection can cut both ways during the pandemic. During this pandemic if those people you confide in are not currently in your “bubble,” you may have a problem. This may explain why, despite warnings of their dangers, bars continue to be so attractive. It’s probably not just the alcohol but it’s the bartenders and patrons who are willing to listen that patrons seek out. It would be helpful if more people felt comfortable sharing their feelings with members of their family bubble. But you and I know that many families don’t come even close to matching the Brady Bunch image of a functionality.
Somewhat surprisingly to the Harvard researchers was their finding that time watching television also was a significant risk factor for the development of depression. Their data did not allow them to determine whether this observation was linked to the sedentary nature of television watching or the content of the shows being viewed. I suspect that content is not the problem. But in addition to being a sedentary activity, television watching often is isolating. When television was first introduced to the mass market, families grouped around the household’s lone set, much as families did back when radios became popular. In their infancy radio listening and television viewing were social activities rich with discussion and shared emotions.
However, as televisions became less expensive and no longer required large pieces of furniture to house them, television viewing became a more solitary and individual activity. Televisions became obligatory furnishings of every bedroom, and parents and children could withdraw to their own spaces and be entertained free of any opportunity or obligation to interact with the rest of family.
This new research into the risk factors for depression suggests that again without any way of monitoring their usage. At least among children, television watching should be a modifiable behavior.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
While anxiety was at the top of my list of emotional states that generated office visits in my pediatric practice, depression always ran a close second. Not infrequently, patients would report symptoms that suggested they were harboring both morbidities.
Although some families appear to be prone to depression, I’m not aware that a definable genetic basis has been discovered. Like me, you may have wondered what factors determine whether an individual will become depressed or merely be unhappy when things aren’t going well. We all have known people who have weathered disappointment and life-altering calamities without even a hint of being depressed. On the other hand you probably have met numerous patients and acquaintances who have become significantly depressed as the result of simply worrying that some disaster might befall them.
Is this variable vulnerability to depression the result of some as yet undiscovered neurotransmitter? Or are there certain lifestyle features that make individuals more prone to depression? Or ... could it be both? In other words are there behaviors that can tweak a person’s telomeres in such a way that triggers a biochemical cascade that results in depression?
A recent paper in the American Journal of Psychiatry doesn’t drill down through the genetic and biochemical strata, but it does suggest that there are “modifiable” behaviors that may contribute to depression. The researchers based at Harvard Medical School in Boston accessed a database of more than 100,000 adults in the United Kingdom. With use of a two-stage method that included a strategy similar to that employed for identifying genetic risk factors for disease, the researchers scanned a large number of factors that they considered modifiable, searching for those that might be associated with the development of depression.
Not surprisingly, they discovered that those respondents who more frequently confided in others and more frequently visited with family and friends were less likely to become depressed. Of course, this protective effect of social connection can cut both ways during the pandemic. During this pandemic if those people you confide in are not currently in your “bubble,” you may have a problem. This may explain why, despite warnings of their dangers, bars continue to be so attractive. It’s probably not just the alcohol but it’s the bartenders and patrons who are willing to listen that patrons seek out. It would be helpful if more people felt comfortable sharing their feelings with members of their family bubble. But you and I know that many families don’t come even close to matching the Brady Bunch image of a functionality.
Somewhat surprisingly to the Harvard researchers was their finding that time watching television also was a significant risk factor for the development of depression. Their data did not allow them to determine whether this observation was linked to the sedentary nature of television watching or the content of the shows being viewed. I suspect that content is not the problem. But in addition to being a sedentary activity, television watching often is isolating. When television was first introduced to the mass market, families grouped around the household’s lone set, much as families did back when radios became popular. In their infancy radio listening and television viewing were social activities rich with discussion and shared emotions.
However, as televisions became less expensive and no longer required large pieces of furniture to house them, television viewing became a more solitary and individual activity. Televisions became obligatory furnishings of every bedroom, and parents and children could withdraw to their own spaces and be entertained free of any opportunity or obligation to interact with the rest of family.
This new research into the risk factors for depression suggests that again without any way of monitoring their usage. At least among children, television watching should be a modifiable behavior.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
While anxiety was at the top of my list of emotional states that generated office visits in my pediatric practice, depression always ran a close second. Not infrequently, patients would report symptoms that suggested they were harboring both morbidities.
Although some families appear to be prone to depression, I’m not aware that a definable genetic basis has been discovered. Like me, you may have wondered what factors determine whether an individual will become depressed or merely be unhappy when things aren’t going well. We all have known people who have weathered disappointment and life-altering calamities without even a hint of being depressed. On the other hand you probably have met numerous patients and acquaintances who have become significantly depressed as the result of simply worrying that some disaster might befall them.
Is this variable vulnerability to depression the result of some as yet undiscovered neurotransmitter? Or are there certain lifestyle features that make individuals more prone to depression? Or ... could it be both? In other words are there behaviors that can tweak a person’s telomeres in such a way that triggers a biochemical cascade that results in depression?
A recent paper in the American Journal of Psychiatry doesn’t drill down through the genetic and biochemical strata, but it does suggest that there are “modifiable” behaviors that may contribute to depression. The researchers based at Harvard Medical School in Boston accessed a database of more than 100,000 adults in the United Kingdom. With use of a two-stage method that included a strategy similar to that employed for identifying genetic risk factors for disease, the researchers scanned a large number of factors that they considered modifiable, searching for those that might be associated with the development of depression.
Not surprisingly, they discovered that those respondents who more frequently confided in others and more frequently visited with family and friends were less likely to become depressed. Of course, this protective effect of social connection can cut both ways during the pandemic. During this pandemic if those people you confide in are not currently in your “bubble,” you may have a problem. This may explain why, despite warnings of their dangers, bars continue to be so attractive. It’s probably not just the alcohol but it’s the bartenders and patrons who are willing to listen that patrons seek out. It would be helpful if more people felt comfortable sharing their feelings with members of their family bubble. But you and I know that many families don’t come even close to matching the Brady Bunch image of a functionality.
Somewhat surprisingly to the Harvard researchers was their finding that time watching television also was a significant risk factor for the development of depression. Their data did not allow them to determine whether this observation was linked to the sedentary nature of television watching or the content of the shows being viewed. I suspect that content is not the problem. But in addition to being a sedentary activity, television watching often is isolating. When television was first introduced to the mass market, families grouped around the household’s lone set, much as families did back when radios became popular. In their infancy radio listening and television viewing were social activities rich with discussion and shared emotions.
However, as televisions became less expensive and no longer required large pieces of furniture to house them, television viewing became a more solitary and individual activity. Televisions became obligatory furnishings of every bedroom, and parents and children could withdraw to their own spaces and be entertained free of any opportunity or obligation to interact with the rest of family.
This new research into the risk factors for depression suggests that again without any way of monitoring their usage. At least among children, television watching should be a modifiable behavior.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].
My opus was myopic
I had been in practice only 6 or 7 years when I got the itch to do some writing. I had been exchanging letters with my father since I left for college. He was a professional writer but I had never done more than was required to get through school. What motivated me to sit down at the keyboard of his old hand-me-down portable typewriter was my frustration with grandmothers, as nearly every day I found myself struggling to counter some grandmother’s well-intentioned but somewhat off-the-mark childrearing advice.
Occasionally this would be during a face-to-face encounter with a grandmother who had tagged along to the well-baby visit. More often, I was trying to arm a mother or father with the “facts” (at least as I understood them) that they could carry home and use to defend my position as the child care expert for the family.
These were not knock-down-drag-out disagreements but I always felt badly that I might be tarnishing a grandmother’s reputation. Grandfathers seemed to have learned it was best to keep silent on childrearing. I knew from my own family that most grandmothers had years of experience raising children that, if properly delivered, could make childrearing a more positive experience for new parents. My father, whose mother was widowed when he was an infant, was raised by his grandmother. However, too often I found that grandmotherly advice came packaged with just enough old wives’ tales and factually incorrect medical information to be dangerous.
The title of my opus would be “The Good Grandmother Handbook” and it would be an effort to update grandmothers with the latest information on childrearing from a recently trained and cocky board-certified pediatrician with only 6 years’ practice under his belt. The book would reassure grandmothers that, although some of the things they had done as parents are now frowned upon, most of what they did has stood the test of time and probably is worth sharing.
The final chapter of the book would be about grandparent etiquette. How to deal with the fact that there is another set of grandparents who have opinions and would like to have time with their grandchildren. When and how to give advice: Basically, only if asked or you feel your grandchild’s life is at stake. And, finally, how to deal with the disappointment of not being asked for advice and not being involved.
Not surprisingly that sophomoric and condescending effort never got further than the first draft. It reflected my early experiences in a minimally diverse and relatively affluent community. As my world view broadened, I realized that for many families it’s not a question of how to deal with a grandmother’s unsolicited advice. There are numerous grandparents who have been forced to become safe havens in which a family in distress can ride out the turbulent economic times and societal upheaval.
A Pediatrics article estimates that 2% of children in this country are being raised by their grandparents. And, it turns out that grandparents are doing a surprisingly good job. The researchers concluded that: “Despite caring for children with greater developmental problems and poorer temperament grandparent caregivers seem to cope with parenting about as well as parents.”
As pediatricians we must continue to reach out to grandmothers and grandfathers who are caring for some of our most challenged patients. They need our medical advice but even more they need our compassion and emotional support. Over the last 5 decades I’ve come to learn that, although there are some grandmothers who can be meddlesome dispensers of old wives’ tales, many are the backbone of families in need.
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].
I had been in practice only 6 or 7 years when I got the itch to do some writing. I had been exchanging letters with my father since I left for college. He was a professional writer but I had never done more than was required to get through school. What motivated me to sit down at the keyboard of his old hand-me-down portable typewriter was my frustration with grandmothers, as nearly every day I found myself struggling to counter some grandmother’s well-intentioned but somewhat off-the-mark childrearing advice.
Occasionally this would be during a face-to-face encounter with a grandmother who had tagged along to the well-baby visit. More often, I was trying to arm a mother or father with the “facts” (at least as I understood them) that they could carry home and use to defend my position as the child care expert for the family.
These were not knock-down-drag-out disagreements but I always felt badly that I might be tarnishing a grandmother’s reputation. Grandfathers seemed to have learned it was best to keep silent on childrearing. I knew from my own family that most grandmothers had years of experience raising children that, if properly delivered, could make childrearing a more positive experience for new parents. My father, whose mother was widowed when he was an infant, was raised by his grandmother. However, too often I found that grandmotherly advice came packaged with just enough old wives’ tales and factually incorrect medical information to be dangerous.
The title of my opus would be “The Good Grandmother Handbook” and it would be an effort to update grandmothers with the latest information on childrearing from a recently trained and cocky board-certified pediatrician with only 6 years’ practice under his belt. The book would reassure grandmothers that, although some of the things they had done as parents are now frowned upon, most of what they did has stood the test of time and probably is worth sharing.
The final chapter of the book would be about grandparent etiquette. How to deal with the fact that there is another set of grandparents who have opinions and would like to have time with their grandchildren. When and how to give advice: Basically, only if asked or you feel your grandchild’s life is at stake. And, finally, how to deal with the disappointment of not being asked for advice and not being involved.
Not surprisingly that sophomoric and condescending effort never got further than the first draft. It reflected my early experiences in a minimally diverse and relatively affluent community. As my world view broadened, I realized that for many families it’s not a question of how to deal with a grandmother’s unsolicited advice. There are numerous grandparents who have been forced to become safe havens in which a family in distress can ride out the turbulent economic times and societal upheaval.
A Pediatrics article estimates that 2% of children in this country are being raised by their grandparents. And, it turns out that grandparents are doing a surprisingly good job. The researchers concluded that: “Despite caring for children with greater developmental problems and poorer temperament grandparent caregivers seem to cope with parenting about as well as parents.”
As pediatricians we must continue to reach out to grandmothers and grandfathers who are caring for some of our most challenged patients. They need our medical advice but even more they need our compassion and emotional support. Over the last 5 decades I’ve come to learn that, although there are some grandmothers who can be meddlesome dispensers of old wives’ tales, many are the backbone of families in need.
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].
I had been in practice only 6 or 7 years when I got the itch to do some writing. I had been exchanging letters with my father since I left for college. He was a professional writer but I had never done more than was required to get through school. What motivated me to sit down at the keyboard of his old hand-me-down portable typewriter was my frustration with grandmothers, as nearly every day I found myself struggling to counter some grandmother’s well-intentioned but somewhat off-the-mark childrearing advice.
Occasionally this would be during a face-to-face encounter with a grandmother who had tagged along to the well-baby visit. More often, I was trying to arm a mother or father with the “facts” (at least as I understood them) that they could carry home and use to defend my position as the child care expert for the family.
These were not knock-down-drag-out disagreements but I always felt badly that I might be tarnishing a grandmother’s reputation. Grandfathers seemed to have learned it was best to keep silent on childrearing. I knew from my own family that most grandmothers had years of experience raising children that, if properly delivered, could make childrearing a more positive experience for new parents. My father, whose mother was widowed when he was an infant, was raised by his grandmother. However, too often I found that grandmotherly advice came packaged with just enough old wives’ tales and factually incorrect medical information to be dangerous.
The title of my opus would be “The Good Grandmother Handbook” and it would be an effort to update grandmothers with the latest information on childrearing from a recently trained and cocky board-certified pediatrician with only 6 years’ practice under his belt. The book would reassure grandmothers that, although some of the things they had done as parents are now frowned upon, most of what they did has stood the test of time and probably is worth sharing.
The final chapter of the book would be about grandparent etiquette. How to deal with the fact that there is another set of grandparents who have opinions and would like to have time with their grandchildren. When and how to give advice: Basically, only if asked or you feel your grandchild’s life is at stake. And, finally, how to deal with the disappointment of not being asked for advice and not being involved.
Not surprisingly that sophomoric and condescending effort never got further than the first draft. It reflected my early experiences in a minimally diverse and relatively affluent community. As my world view broadened, I realized that for many families it’s not a question of how to deal with a grandmother’s unsolicited advice. There are numerous grandparents who have been forced to become safe havens in which a family in distress can ride out the turbulent economic times and societal upheaval.
A Pediatrics article estimates that 2% of children in this country are being raised by their grandparents. And, it turns out that grandparents are doing a surprisingly good job. The researchers concluded that: “Despite caring for children with greater developmental problems and poorer temperament grandparent caregivers seem to cope with parenting about as well as parents.”
As pediatricians we must continue to reach out to grandmothers and grandfathers who are caring for some of our most challenged patients. They need our medical advice but even more they need our compassion and emotional support. Over the last 5 decades I’ve come to learn that, although there are some grandmothers who can be meddlesome dispensers of old wives’ tales, many are the backbone of families in need.
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].
Too many patient call messages
In a recent study published in the Journal of the American Medical Informatics Association that used EHR logs, researchers found that “Clinicians with the highest volume of patient call messages have almost 4 times the odds of burnout compared with clinicians with the fewest.” And they discovered that “No other workload measures were significantly associated with burnout.” Like the majority of papers I skim through, it states the obvious. Doesn’t it makes sense that the busiest of providers should be more vulnerable to stress related symptoms? But is that really true for every provider? Being “busy” doesn’t guarantee that you are productive nor does it mean that the stuff you are doing while you are busy is fulfilling or rewarding either emotionally or financially. Certainly, slogging through a long list of patient call messages at the end of the day does qualify as being busy, but it is more likely to generate anger and frustration than it is fulfillment.
Just because you have a large practice, does that mean that you will necessarily have more messages to review and calls to return than a provider with a smaller practice. Maybe you manage your practice and your time so well that you actually have fewer messages and calls to return and, therefore, are less vulnerable to burnout.
There are three general strategies that you might be employing that result in fewer messages and calls that require your response. It may be that you have developed a handbook of frequently asked questions and trained your staff to use it as a reference in a way that reduces the number of messages that filter to you. Creating this triage book and finding the right personnel took time, but it didn’t necessarily mean that you had to hire staff with extensive training, which can be expensive. In-house training of raw talent that has demonstrated common sense and good communication skills can be cost effective and rewarding. You probably already have discovered that continued attention to quality control is an important part of this strategy. Included in your handbook you may have included a clearcut triage system for the questions that the staff can’t answer. Is it a question you must answer (a) as soon as you finish with this patient, (b) before lunch, or (c) at the end of the day? (Category (c) is of course strongly discouraged).
The second general group of strategies you may be using to keep your calls and messages to a minimum is anticipatory guidance. As you wrap up each visit, are you anticipating what calls it might generate? This of course depends on the nature of the problem and the personality of the patient. From your experience you can probably predict most of the questions that are likely going to crop up after the patient arrives home. Preemptively answering these before patients leave and providing a personalized handout that you discuss with them may easily be saving you two or three calls a day. Because you can’t anticipate every question, you have found that promising a follow-up call in a day or 2 encourages the patients to hold their questions and wait for you or your assistant to call.
Finally, you may have discovered long ago that in many cases it is easier and more efficient to see the patient rather than having your staff spend half their time building and maintaining a communication wall around you. This is particularly true if, during the initial contact with your office, the patients have made it clear that they would like to be seen. This strategy is based on commons sense, but for many physicians and their office staff it may require a dramatic shift in attitude. You may have needed to become more comfortable squeezing in short visits at which the goal is to simply begin the dual processes of anxiety relief and diagnosis. In the beginning, you may have had to frequently remind your staff that their primary goal is patient satisfaction and not protecting you from seeing “too many” patients. Ironically, by being over protective, they may have been contributing to burnout when simply cutting to the chase and having the patient come in to be seen would have generated fewer stress-producing calls and messages.
Enabling a system that generates an excess of patient messages is looking for trouble.
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].
In a recent study published in the Journal of the American Medical Informatics Association that used EHR logs, researchers found that “Clinicians with the highest volume of patient call messages have almost 4 times the odds of burnout compared with clinicians with the fewest.” And they discovered that “No other workload measures were significantly associated with burnout.” Like the majority of papers I skim through, it states the obvious. Doesn’t it makes sense that the busiest of providers should be more vulnerable to stress related symptoms? But is that really true for every provider? Being “busy” doesn’t guarantee that you are productive nor does it mean that the stuff you are doing while you are busy is fulfilling or rewarding either emotionally or financially. Certainly, slogging through a long list of patient call messages at the end of the day does qualify as being busy, but it is more likely to generate anger and frustration than it is fulfillment.
Just because you have a large practice, does that mean that you will necessarily have more messages to review and calls to return than a provider with a smaller practice. Maybe you manage your practice and your time so well that you actually have fewer messages and calls to return and, therefore, are less vulnerable to burnout.
There are three general strategies that you might be employing that result in fewer messages and calls that require your response. It may be that you have developed a handbook of frequently asked questions and trained your staff to use it as a reference in a way that reduces the number of messages that filter to you. Creating this triage book and finding the right personnel took time, but it didn’t necessarily mean that you had to hire staff with extensive training, which can be expensive. In-house training of raw talent that has demonstrated common sense and good communication skills can be cost effective and rewarding. You probably already have discovered that continued attention to quality control is an important part of this strategy. Included in your handbook you may have included a clearcut triage system for the questions that the staff can’t answer. Is it a question you must answer (a) as soon as you finish with this patient, (b) before lunch, or (c) at the end of the day? (Category (c) is of course strongly discouraged).
The second general group of strategies you may be using to keep your calls and messages to a minimum is anticipatory guidance. As you wrap up each visit, are you anticipating what calls it might generate? This of course depends on the nature of the problem and the personality of the patient. From your experience you can probably predict most of the questions that are likely going to crop up after the patient arrives home. Preemptively answering these before patients leave and providing a personalized handout that you discuss with them may easily be saving you two or three calls a day. Because you can’t anticipate every question, you have found that promising a follow-up call in a day or 2 encourages the patients to hold their questions and wait for you or your assistant to call.
Finally, you may have discovered long ago that in many cases it is easier and more efficient to see the patient rather than having your staff spend half their time building and maintaining a communication wall around you. This is particularly true if, during the initial contact with your office, the patients have made it clear that they would like to be seen. This strategy is based on commons sense, but for many physicians and their office staff it may require a dramatic shift in attitude. You may have needed to become more comfortable squeezing in short visits at which the goal is to simply begin the dual processes of anxiety relief and diagnosis. In the beginning, you may have had to frequently remind your staff that their primary goal is patient satisfaction and not protecting you from seeing “too many” patients. Ironically, by being over protective, they may have been contributing to burnout when simply cutting to the chase and having the patient come in to be seen would have generated fewer stress-producing calls and messages.
Enabling a system that generates an excess of patient messages is looking for trouble.
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].
In a recent study published in the Journal of the American Medical Informatics Association that used EHR logs, researchers found that “Clinicians with the highest volume of patient call messages have almost 4 times the odds of burnout compared with clinicians with the fewest.” And they discovered that “No other workload measures were significantly associated with burnout.” Like the majority of papers I skim through, it states the obvious. Doesn’t it makes sense that the busiest of providers should be more vulnerable to stress related symptoms? But is that really true for every provider? Being “busy” doesn’t guarantee that you are productive nor does it mean that the stuff you are doing while you are busy is fulfilling or rewarding either emotionally or financially. Certainly, slogging through a long list of patient call messages at the end of the day does qualify as being busy, but it is more likely to generate anger and frustration than it is fulfillment.
Just because you have a large practice, does that mean that you will necessarily have more messages to review and calls to return than a provider with a smaller practice. Maybe you manage your practice and your time so well that you actually have fewer messages and calls to return and, therefore, are less vulnerable to burnout.
There are three general strategies that you might be employing that result in fewer messages and calls that require your response. It may be that you have developed a handbook of frequently asked questions and trained your staff to use it as a reference in a way that reduces the number of messages that filter to you. Creating this triage book and finding the right personnel took time, but it didn’t necessarily mean that you had to hire staff with extensive training, which can be expensive. In-house training of raw talent that has demonstrated common sense and good communication skills can be cost effective and rewarding. You probably already have discovered that continued attention to quality control is an important part of this strategy. Included in your handbook you may have included a clearcut triage system for the questions that the staff can’t answer. Is it a question you must answer (a) as soon as you finish with this patient, (b) before lunch, or (c) at the end of the day? (Category (c) is of course strongly discouraged).
The second general group of strategies you may be using to keep your calls and messages to a minimum is anticipatory guidance. As you wrap up each visit, are you anticipating what calls it might generate? This of course depends on the nature of the problem and the personality of the patient. From your experience you can probably predict most of the questions that are likely going to crop up after the patient arrives home. Preemptively answering these before patients leave and providing a personalized handout that you discuss with them may easily be saving you two or three calls a day. Because you can’t anticipate every question, you have found that promising a follow-up call in a day or 2 encourages the patients to hold their questions and wait for you or your assistant to call.
Finally, you may have discovered long ago that in many cases it is easier and more efficient to see the patient rather than having your staff spend half their time building and maintaining a communication wall around you. This is particularly true if, during the initial contact with your office, the patients have made it clear that they would like to be seen. This strategy is based on commons sense, but for many physicians and their office staff it may require a dramatic shift in attitude. You may have needed to become more comfortable squeezing in short visits at which the goal is to simply begin the dual processes of anxiety relief and diagnosis. In the beginning, you may have had to frequently remind your staff that their primary goal is patient satisfaction and not protecting you from seeing “too many” patients. Ironically, by being over protective, they may have been contributing to burnout when simply cutting to the chase and having the patient come in to be seen would have generated fewer stress-producing calls and messages.
Enabling a system that generates an excess of patient messages is looking for trouble.
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].
When you see something ...
Over the last several decades science has fallen off this country’s radar screen. Yes, STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) has recently had a brief moment in the spotlight as a buzzword de jour. But the critical importance of careful and systematic investigation into the world around us using observation and trial and error is a tough sell to a large segment of our population.
The COVID-19 pandemic is providing an excellent opportunity for science and medicine to showcase their star qualities. Of course some people in leadership positions persist in disregarding the value of scientific investigation. But I get the feeling that the fear generated by the pandemic is creating some converts among many previous science skeptics. This gathering enthusiasm among the general population is a predictably slow process because that’s the way science works. It often doesn’t provide quick answers. And it is difficult for the nonscientist to see the beauty in the reality that the things we thought were true 2 months ago are likely to be proven wrong today as more observations accumulate.
A recent New York Times article examines the career of one such unscrupulous physician/scientist whose recent exploits threaten to undo much of the positive image the pandemic has cast on science (“The Doctor Behind the Disputed Covid Data,” by Ellen Gabler and Roni Caryn Rabin, The New York Times, July 27, 2020). The subject of the article is the physician who was responsible for providing some of the large data sets on which several papers were published about the apparent ineffectiveness and danger of using hydroxychloroquine in COVID-19 patients. The authenticity of the data sets recently has been seriously questioned, and the articles have been retracted by the journals in which they had appeared.
Based on numerous interviews with coworkers, the Times reporters present a strong case that this individual’s long history of unreliability make his association with allegedly fraudulent data set not surprising but maybe even predictable. At one point in his training, there appears to have been serious questions about advancing the physician to the next level. Despite these concerns, he was allowed to continue and complete his specialty training. It is of note that in his last year of clinical practice, the physician became the subject of three serious malpractice claims that question his competence.
I suspect that some of you have crossed paths with physicians whose competence and/or moral character you found concerning. Were they peers? Were you the individual’s supervisor or was he or she your mentor? How did you respond? Did anyone respond at all?
There has been a lot written and said in recent months about how and when to respond to respond to sexual harassment in the workplace. But I don’t recall reading any articles that discuss how one should respond to incompetence. Of course competency can be a relative term, but in most cases significant incompetence is hard to miss because it tends to be repeated.
It is easy for the airports and subway systems to post signs that say “If you see something say something.” It’s a different story for hospitals and medical schools that may have systems in place for reporting and following up on poor practice. But my sense is that there are too many cases that slip through the cracks.
This is another example of a problem for which I don’t have a solution. However, if this column prompts just one of you who sees something to say something then I have had a good day.
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].
Over the last several decades science has fallen off this country’s radar screen. Yes, STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) has recently had a brief moment in the spotlight as a buzzword de jour. But the critical importance of careful and systematic investigation into the world around us using observation and trial and error is a tough sell to a large segment of our population.
The COVID-19 pandemic is providing an excellent opportunity for science and medicine to showcase their star qualities. Of course some people in leadership positions persist in disregarding the value of scientific investigation. But I get the feeling that the fear generated by the pandemic is creating some converts among many previous science skeptics. This gathering enthusiasm among the general population is a predictably slow process because that’s the way science works. It often doesn’t provide quick answers. And it is difficult for the nonscientist to see the beauty in the reality that the things we thought were true 2 months ago are likely to be proven wrong today as more observations accumulate.
A recent New York Times article examines the career of one such unscrupulous physician/scientist whose recent exploits threaten to undo much of the positive image the pandemic has cast on science (“The Doctor Behind the Disputed Covid Data,” by Ellen Gabler and Roni Caryn Rabin, The New York Times, July 27, 2020). The subject of the article is the physician who was responsible for providing some of the large data sets on which several papers were published about the apparent ineffectiveness and danger of using hydroxychloroquine in COVID-19 patients. The authenticity of the data sets recently has been seriously questioned, and the articles have been retracted by the journals in which they had appeared.
Based on numerous interviews with coworkers, the Times reporters present a strong case that this individual’s long history of unreliability make his association with allegedly fraudulent data set not surprising but maybe even predictable. At one point in his training, there appears to have been serious questions about advancing the physician to the next level. Despite these concerns, he was allowed to continue and complete his specialty training. It is of note that in his last year of clinical practice, the physician became the subject of three serious malpractice claims that question his competence.
I suspect that some of you have crossed paths with physicians whose competence and/or moral character you found concerning. Were they peers? Were you the individual’s supervisor or was he or she your mentor? How did you respond? Did anyone respond at all?
There has been a lot written and said in recent months about how and when to respond to respond to sexual harassment in the workplace. But I don’t recall reading any articles that discuss how one should respond to incompetence. Of course competency can be a relative term, but in most cases significant incompetence is hard to miss because it tends to be repeated.
It is easy for the airports and subway systems to post signs that say “If you see something say something.” It’s a different story for hospitals and medical schools that may have systems in place for reporting and following up on poor practice. But my sense is that there are too many cases that slip through the cracks.
This is another example of a problem for which I don’t have a solution. However, if this column prompts just one of you who sees something to say something then I have had a good day.
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].
Over the last several decades science has fallen off this country’s radar screen. Yes, STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) has recently had a brief moment in the spotlight as a buzzword de jour. But the critical importance of careful and systematic investigation into the world around us using observation and trial and error is a tough sell to a large segment of our population.
The COVID-19 pandemic is providing an excellent opportunity for science and medicine to showcase their star qualities. Of course some people in leadership positions persist in disregarding the value of scientific investigation. But I get the feeling that the fear generated by the pandemic is creating some converts among many previous science skeptics. This gathering enthusiasm among the general population is a predictably slow process because that’s the way science works. It often doesn’t provide quick answers. And it is difficult for the nonscientist to see the beauty in the reality that the things we thought were true 2 months ago are likely to be proven wrong today as more observations accumulate.
A recent New York Times article examines the career of one such unscrupulous physician/scientist whose recent exploits threaten to undo much of the positive image the pandemic has cast on science (“The Doctor Behind the Disputed Covid Data,” by Ellen Gabler and Roni Caryn Rabin, The New York Times, July 27, 2020). The subject of the article is the physician who was responsible for providing some of the large data sets on which several papers were published about the apparent ineffectiveness and danger of using hydroxychloroquine in COVID-19 patients. The authenticity of the data sets recently has been seriously questioned, and the articles have been retracted by the journals in which they had appeared.
Based on numerous interviews with coworkers, the Times reporters present a strong case that this individual’s long history of unreliability make his association with allegedly fraudulent data set not surprising but maybe even predictable. At one point in his training, there appears to have been serious questions about advancing the physician to the next level. Despite these concerns, he was allowed to continue and complete his specialty training. It is of note that in his last year of clinical practice, the physician became the subject of three serious malpractice claims that question his competence.
I suspect that some of you have crossed paths with physicians whose competence and/or moral character you found concerning. Were they peers? Were you the individual’s supervisor or was he or she your mentor? How did you respond? Did anyone respond at all?
There has been a lot written and said in recent months about how and when to respond to respond to sexual harassment in the workplace. But I don’t recall reading any articles that discuss how one should respond to incompetence. Of course competency can be a relative term, but in most cases significant incompetence is hard to miss because it tends to be repeated.
It is easy for the airports and subway systems to post signs that say “If you see something say something.” It’s a different story for hospitals and medical schools that may have systems in place for reporting and following up on poor practice. But my sense is that there are too many cases that slip through the cracks.
This is another example of a problem for which I don’t have a solution. However, if this column prompts just one of you who sees something to say something then I have had a good day.
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].
Are you SARS-CoV-2 vaccine hesitant?
When the pandemic was just emerging from its infancy and we were just beginning to think about social distancing, I was sitting around enjoying an adult beverage and some gluten free (not my choice) snacks with some friends. A retired nurse who had just celebrated her 80th birthday said, “I can’t wait until they’ve developed a vaccine.” A former electrical engineer sitting just short of 2 meters to her left responded, “Don’t save me a place near the front of the line for something that is being developed in a program called Warp Speed.”
How do you feel about the potential SARS-CoV-2 vaccine? Are you going to roll up your sleeve as soon as the vaccine becomes available in your community? What are you going to suggest to your patients, your children? I suspect many of you will answer, “It depends.”
Will it make any difference to you which biochemical-immune-bending strategy is being used to make the vaccine? All of them will probably be the result of a clever sounding but novel technique, all of them with a track record that is measured in months and not years. Will you be swayed by how large the trials were? Or how long the follow-up lasted? How effective must the vaccine be to convince you that it is worth receiving or recommending? Do you have the tools and experience to make a decision like that? I know I don’t. And should you and I even be put in a position to make that decision?
In the past, you and I may have relied on the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for advice. But given the somewhat murky and stormy relationship between the CDC and the president, the vaccine recommendation may be issued by the White House and not the CDC.
For those of us who were practicing medicine during the Swine Flu fiasco of 1976, the pace and the politics surrounding the development of a SARS-CoV-2 vaccine has a discomforting déjà vu quality about it. The fact that like this year 1976 was an election year that infused the development process with a sense of urgency above and beyond any of the concerns about the pandemic that never happened. Although causality was never proven, there was a surge in Guillain-Barré syndrome cases that had been linked temporally to the vaccine.
Of course, our pandemic is real, and it would be imprudent to wait a year or more to watch for long-term vaccine sequelae. However, I am more than a little concerned that fast tracking the development process may result in unfortunate consequences in the short term that could have been avoided with a more measured approach to trialing the vaccines.
The sad reality is that as a nation we tend to be impatient. We are drawn to quick fixes that come in a vial or a capsule. We are learning that simple measures like mask wearing and social distancing can make a difference in slowing the spread of the virus. It would be tragic to rush a vaccine into production that at best turns out to simply be an expensive alternative to the measures that we know work or at worst injures more of us than it saves.
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].
When the pandemic was just emerging from its infancy and we were just beginning to think about social distancing, I was sitting around enjoying an adult beverage and some gluten free (not my choice) snacks with some friends. A retired nurse who had just celebrated her 80th birthday said, “I can’t wait until they’ve developed a vaccine.” A former electrical engineer sitting just short of 2 meters to her left responded, “Don’t save me a place near the front of the line for something that is being developed in a program called Warp Speed.”
How do you feel about the potential SARS-CoV-2 vaccine? Are you going to roll up your sleeve as soon as the vaccine becomes available in your community? What are you going to suggest to your patients, your children? I suspect many of you will answer, “It depends.”
Will it make any difference to you which biochemical-immune-bending strategy is being used to make the vaccine? All of them will probably be the result of a clever sounding but novel technique, all of them with a track record that is measured in months and not years. Will you be swayed by how large the trials were? Or how long the follow-up lasted? How effective must the vaccine be to convince you that it is worth receiving or recommending? Do you have the tools and experience to make a decision like that? I know I don’t. And should you and I even be put in a position to make that decision?
In the past, you and I may have relied on the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for advice. But given the somewhat murky and stormy relationship between the CDC and the president, the vaccine recommendation may be issued by the White House and not the CDC.
For those of us who were practicing medicine during the Swine Flu fiasco of 1976, the pace and the politics surrounding the development of a SARS-CoV-2 vaccine has a discomforting déjà vu quality about it. The fact that like this year 1976 was an election year that infused the development process with a sense of urgency above and beyond any of the concerns about the pandemic that never happened. Although causality was never proven, there was a surge in Guillain-Barré syndrome cases that had been linked temporally to the vaccine.
Of course, our pandemic is real, and it would be imprudent to wait a year or more to watch for long-term vaccine sequelae. However, I am more than a little concerned that fast tracking the development process may result in unfortunate consequences in the short term that could have been avoided with a more measured approach to trialing the vaccines.
The sad reality is that as a nation we tend to be impatient. We are drawn to quick fixes that come in a vial or a capsule. We are learning that simple measures like mask wearing and social distancing can make a difference in slowing the spread of the virus. It would be tragic to rush a vaccine into production that at best turns out to simply be an expensive alternative to the measures that we know work or at worst injures more of us than it saves.
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].
When the pandemic was just emerging from its infancy and we were just beginning to think about social distancing, I was sitting around enjoying an adult beverage and some gluten free (not my choice) snacks with some friends. A retired nurse who had just celebrated her 80th birthday said, “I can’t wait until they’ve developed a vaccine.” A former electrical engineer sitting just short of 2 meters to her left responded, “Don’t save me a place near the front of the line for something that is being developed in a program called Warp Speed.”
How do you feel about the potential SARS-CoV-2 vaccine? Are you going to roll up your sleeve as soon as the vaccine becomes available in your community? What are you going to suggest to your patients, your children? I suspect many of you will answer, “It depends.”
Will it make any difference to you which biochemical-immune-bending strategy is being used to make the vaccine? All of them will probably be the result of a clever sounding but novel technique, all of them with a track record that is measured in months and not years. Will you be swayed by how large the trials were? Or how long the follow-up lasted? How effective must the vaccine be to convince you that it is worth receiving or recommending? Do you have the tools and experience to make a decision like that? I know I don’t. And should you and I even be put in a position to make that decision?
In the past, you and I may have relied on the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for advice. But given the somewhat murky and stormy relationship between the CDC and the president, the vaccine recommendation may be issued by the White House and not the CDC.
For those of us who were practicing medicine during the Swine Flu fiasco of 1976, the pace and the politics surrounding the development of a SARS-CoV-2 vaccine has a discomforting déjà vu quality about it. The fact that like this year 1976 was an election year that infused the development process with a sense of urgency above and beyond any of the concerns about the pandemic that never happened. Although causality was never proven, there was a surge in Guillain-Barré syndrome cases that had been linked temporally to the vaccine.
Of course, our pandemic is real, and it would be imprudent to wait a year or more to watch for long-term vaccine sequelae. However, I am more than a little concerned that fast tracking the development process may result in unfortunate consequences in the short term that could have been avoided with a more measured approach to trialing the vaccines.
The sad reality is that as a nation we tend to be impatient. We are drawn to quick fixes that come in a vial or a capsule. We are learning that simple measures like mask wearing and social distancing can make a difference in slowing the spread of the virus. It would be tragic to rush a vaccine into production that at best turns out to simply be an expensive alternative to the measures that we know work or at worst injures more of us than it saves.
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].