Opinion

On March 9 my team was given a directive by the chief medical officer of our health system. We were charged with opening a drive-through COVID-19 testing center for our community in just 2 days’ time. It seemed like an impossible task, involving the mobilization of people, processes, and technology at a scale and speed we had never before achieved. It turned out getting this done was impossible. In spite of our best efforts, we failed to meet the deadline – it actually took us 3 days. Still, by March 12, we had opened the doors on the first community testing site in our area and gained the attention of local and national news outlets for our accomplishment.

Now more than 2 months later, I’m quite proud of what our team was able to achieve for the health system, but I’m still quite frustrated at the state of COVID-19 testing nationwide – there’s simply not enough available, and there is tremendous variability in the reliability of the tests. In this column, we’d like to highlight some of the challenges we’ve faced and reflect on how the shortcomings of modern technology have once again proven that medicine is both a science and an art.
 

Our dangerous lack of preparation

Prior to the coronavirus pandemic, I had never considered surgical masks, face shields, and nasal swabs to be critical components of medical technology. My opinion quickly changed after opening our drive-through COVID-19 site. I now have a much greater appreciation for the importance of personal protective equipment and basic testing supplies.

I was shocked by how difficult obtaining it has been during the past few months. It seems that no one anticipated the possibility of a pandemic on this grand a scale, so stockpiles of equipment were depleted quickly and couldn’t be replenished. Also, most manufacturing occurs outside the United States, which creates additional barriers to controlling the supply chain. One need not look far to find stories of widespread price-gouging, black market racketeering, and even hijackings that have stood in the way of accessing the necessary supplies. Sadly, the lack of equipment is far from the only challenge we’ve faced. In some cases, it has been a mistrust of results that has prevented widespread testing and mitigation.
 

The risks of flying blind

When President Trump touted the introduction of a rapid COVID-19 test at the end of March, many people were excited. Promising positive results in as few as 5 minutes, the assay was granted an Emergency Use Authorization (EUA) by the Food and Drug Administration in order to expedite its availability in the market. According to the FDA’s website, an EUA allows “unapproved medical products or unapproved uses of approved medical products to be used in an emergency to diagnose, treat, or prevent serious or life-threatening diseases or conditions.” This rapid (though untested) approval was all that many health care providers needed to hear – immediately hospitals and physicians scrambled to get their hands on the testing devices. Unfortunately, on May 14th, the FDA issued a press release that raised concerns about that same test because it seemed to be reporting a high number of false-negative results. Just as quickly as the devices had been adopted, health care providers began backing away from them in favor of other assays, and a serious truth about COVID-19 testing was revealed: In many ways, we’re flying blind.

Laboratory manufacturers have been working overtime to create assays for SARS-CoV-2 (the coronavirus that causes COVID-19) and have used different technologies for detection. The most commonly used are polymerase chain reaction (PCR) tests. In these assays, viral RNA is converted to DNA by reverse transcriptase, then amplified through the addition of primers that enable detection. PCR technology has been available for years and is a reliable method for identifying DNA and RNA, but the required heating and cooling process takes time and results can take several hours to return. To address this and expedite testing, other methods of detection have been tried, such as the loop-mediated isothermal amplification (LAMP) technique employed by the rapid assay mentioned above. Regardless of methodology, all laboratory tests have one thing in common: None of them is perfect.

Every assay has a different level of reliability. When screening for a disease such as COVID-19, we are particularly interested in a test’s sensitivity (that is, it’s ability to detect disease); we’d love such a screening test to be 100% sensitive and thereby not miss a single case. In truth, no test’s sensitivity is 100%, and in this particular case even the best assays only score around 98%. This means that out of every 100 patients with COVID-19 who are evaluated, two might test negative for the virus. In a pandemic this can have dire consequences, so health care providers – unable to fully trust their instruments – must employ clinical acumen and years of experience to navigate these cloudy skies. We are hopeful that additional tools will complement our current methods, but with new assays also come new questions.
 

Is anyone safe?

We receive regular questions from physicians about the value of antibody testing, but it’s not yet clear how best to respond. While the assays seem to be reliable, the utility of the results are still ill defined. Antibodies to SARS-CoV-2 (both IgG and IgM) appear to peak about 2-3 weeks after symptom onset, but we don’t yet know if the presence of those antibodies confers long-term immunity. Therefore, patients should not use the information to change their masking or social-distancing practices, nor should they presume that they are safe from becoming reinfected with COVID-19. While new research looks promising, there are still too many unknowns to be able to confidently reassure providers or patients of the true value of antibody testing. This underscores our final point: Medicine remains an art.

As we are regularly reminded, we’ll never fully anticipate the challenges or barriers to success, and technology will never replace the value of clinical judgment and human experience. While the situation is unsettling in many ways, we are reassured and encouraged by the role we still get to play in keeping our patients healthy in this health care crisis, and we’ll continue to do so through whatever the future holds.
 

Dr. Notte is a family physician and chief medical officer of Abington Lansdale (Pa.) Hospital - Jefferson Health. Follow him on Twitter (@doctornotte). Dr. Skolnik is professor of family and community medicine at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, and associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Hospital–Jefferson Health. They have no conflicts related to the content of this piece.
 

On March 9 my team was given a directive by the chief medical officer of our health system. We were charged with opening a drive-through COVID-19 testing center for our community in just 2 days’ time. It seemed like an impossible task, involving the mobilization of people, processes, and technology at a scale and speed we had never before achieved. It turned out getting this done was impossible. In spite of our best efforts, we failed to meet the deadline – it actually took us 3 days. Still, by March 12, we had opened the doors on the first community testing site in our area and gained the attention of local and national news outlets for our accomplishment.

Now more than 2 months later, I’m quite proud of what our team was able to achieve for the health system, but I’m still quite frustrated at the state of COVID-19 testing nationwide – there’s simply not enough available, and there is tremendous variability in the reliability of the tests. In this column, we’d like to highlight some of the challenges we’ve faced and reflect on how the shortcomings of modern technology have once again proven that medicine is both a science and an art.
 

Our dangerous lack of preparation

Prior to the coronavirus pandemic, I had never considered surgical masks, face shields, and nasal swabs to be critical components of medical technology. My opinion quickly changed after opening our drive-through COVID-19 site. I now have a much greater appreciation for the importance of personal protective equipment and basic testing supplies.

I was shocked by how difficult obtaining it has been during the past few months. It seems that no one anticipated the possibility of a pandemic on this grand a scale, so stockpiles of equipment were depleted quickly and couldn’t be replenished. Also, most manufacturing occurs outside the United States, which creates additional barriers to controlling the supply chain. One need not look far to find stories of widespread price-gouging, black market racketeering, and even hijackings that have stood in the way of accessing the necessary supplies. Sadly, the lack of equipment is far from the only challenge we’ve faced. In some cases, it has been a mistrust of results that has prevented widespread testing and mitigation.
 

The risks of flying blind

When President Trump touted the introduction of a rapid COVID-19 test at the end of March, many people were excited. Promising positive results in as few as 5 minutes, the assay was granted an Emergency Use Authorization (EUA) by the Food and Drug Administration in order to expedite its availability in the market. According to the FDA’s website, an EUA allows “unapproved medical products or unapproved uses of approved medical products to be used in an emergency to diagnose, treat, or prevent serious or life-threatening diseases or conditions.” This rapid (though untested) approval was all that many health care providers needed to hear – immediately hospitals and physicians scrambled to get their hands on the testing devices. Unfortunately, on May 14th, the FDA issued a press release that raised concerns about that same test because it seemed to be reporting a high number of false-negative results. Just as quickly as the devices had been adopted, health care providers began backing away from them in favor of other assays, and a serious truth about COVID-19 testing was revealed: In many ways, we’re flying blind.

Laboratory manufacturers have been working overtime to create assays for SARS-CoV-2 (the coronavirus that causes COVID-19) and have used different technologies for detection. The most commonly used are polymerase chain reaction (PCR) tests. In these assays, viral RNA is converted to DNA by reverse transcriptase, then amplified through the addition of primers that enable detection. PCR technology has been available for years and is a reliable method for identifying DNA and RNA, but the required heating and cooling process takes time and results can take several hours to return. To address this and expedite testing, other methods of detection have been tried, such as the loop-mediated isothermal amplification (LAMP) technique employed by the rapid assay mentioned above. Regardless of methodology, all laboratory tests have one thing in common: None of them is perfect.

Every assay has a different level of reliability. When screening for a disease such as COVID-19, we are particularly interested in a test’s sensitivity (that is, it’s ability to detect disease); we’d love such a screening test to be 100% sensitive and thereby not miss a single case. In truth, no test’s sensitivity is 100%, and in this particular case even the best assays only score around 98%. This means that out of every 100 patients with COVID-19 who are evaluated, two might test negative for the virus. In a pandemic this can have dire consequences, so health care providers – unable to fully trust their instruments – must employ clinical acumen and years of experience to navigate these cloudy skies. We are hopeful that additional tools will complement our current methods, but with new assays also come new questions.
 

Is anyone safe?

We receive regular questions from physicians about the value of antibody testing, but it’s not yet clear how best to respond. While the assays seem to be reliable, the utility of the results are still ill defined. Antibodies to SARS-CoV-2 (both IgG and IgM) appear to peak about 2-3 weeks after symptom onset, but we don’t yet know if the presence of those antibodies confers long-term immunity. Therefore, patients should not use the information to change their masking or social-distancing practices, nor should they presume that they are safe from becoming reinfected with COVID-19. While new research looks promising, there are still too many unknowns to be able to confidently reassure providers or patients of the true value of antibody testing. This underscores our final point: Medicine remains an art.

As we are regularly reminded, we’ll never fully anticipate the challenges or barriers to success, and technology will never replace the value of clinical judgment and human experience. While the situation is unsettling in many ways, we are reassured and encouraged by the role we still get to play in keeping our patients healthy in this health care crisis, and we’ll continue to do so through whatever the future holds.
 

Dr. Notte is a family physician and chief medical officer of Abington Lansdale (Pa.) Hospital - Jefferson Health. Follow him on Twitter (@doctornotte). Dr. Skolnik is professor of family and community medicine at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, and associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Hospital–Jefferson Health. They have no conflicts related to the content of this piece.
 

On March 9 my team was given a directive by the chief medical officer of our health system. We were charged with opening a drive-through COVID-19 testing center for our community in just 2 days’ time. It seemed like an impossible task, involving the mobilization of people, processes, and technology at a scale and speed we had never before achieved. It turned out getting this done was impossible. In spite of our best efforts, we failed to meet the deadline – it actually took us 3 days. Still, by March 12, we had opened the doors on the first community testing site in our area and gained the attention of local and national news outlets for our accomplishment.

Now more than 2 months later, I’m quite proud of what our team was able to achieve for the health system, but I’m still quite frustrated at the state of COVID-19 testing nationwide – there’s simply not enough available, and there is tremendous variability in the reliability of the tests. In this column, we’d like to highlight some of the challenges we’ve faced and reflect on how the shortcomings of modern technology have once again proven that medicine is both a science and an art.
 

Our dangerous lack of preparation

Prior to the coronavirus pandemic, I had never considered surgical masks, face shields, and nasal swabs to be critical components of medical technology. My opinion quickly changed after opening our drive-through COVID-19 site. I now have a much greater appreciation for the importance of personal protective equipment and basic testing supplies.

I was shocked by how difficult obtaining it has been during the past few months. It seems that no one anticipated the possibility of a pandemic on this grand a scale, so stockpiles of equipment were depleted quickly and couldn’t be replenished. Also, most manufacturing occurs outside the United States, which creates additional barriers to controlling the supply chain. One need not look far to find stories of widespread price-gouging, black market racketeering, and even hijackings that have stood in the way of accessing the necessary supplies. Sadly, the lack of equipment is far from the only challenge we’ve faced. In some cases, it has been a mistrust of results that has prevented widespread testing and mitigation.
 

The risks of flying blind

When President Trump touted the introduction of a rapid COVID-19 test at the end of March, many people were excited. Promising positive results in as few as 5 minutes, the assay was granted an Emergency Use Authorization (EUA) by the Food and Drug Administration in order to expedite its availability in the market. According to the FDA’s website, an EUA allows “unapproved medical products or unapproved uses of approved medical products to be used in an emergency to diagnose, treat, or prevent serious or life-threatening diseases or conditions.” This rapid (though untested) approval was all that many health care providers needed to hear – immediately hospitals and physicians scrambled to get their hands on the testing devices. Unfortunately, on May 14th, the FDA issued a press release that raised concerns about that same test because it seemed to be reporting a high number of false-negative results. Just as quickly as the devices had been adopted, health care providers began backing away from them in favor of other assays, and a serious truth about COVID-19 testing was revealed: In many ways, we’re flying blind.

Laboratory manufacturers have been working overtime to create assays for SARS-CoV-2 (the coronavirus that causes COVID-19) and have used different technologies for detection. The most commonly used are polymerase chain reaction (PCR) tests. In these assays, viral RNA is converted to DNA by reverse transcriptase, then amplified through the addition of primers that enable detection. PCR technology has been available for years and is a reliable method for identifying DNA and RNA, but the required heating and cooling process takes time and results can take several hours to return. To address this and expedite testing, other methods of detection have been tried, such as the loop-mediated isothermal amplification (LAMP) technique employed by the rapid assay mentioned above. Regardless of methodology, all laboratory tests have one thing in common: None of them is perfect.

Every assay has a different level of reliability. When screening for a disease such as COVID-19, we are particularly interested in a test’s sensitivity (that is, it’s ability to detect disease); we’d love such a screening test to be 100% sensitive and thereby not miss a single case. In truth, no test’s sensitivity is 100%, and in this particular case even the best assays only score around 98%. This means that out of every 100 patients with COVID-19 who are evaluated, two might test negative for the virus. In a pandemic this can have dire consequences, so health care providers – unable to fully trust their instruments – must employ clinical acumen and years of experience to navigate these cloudy skies. We are hopeful that additional tools will complement our current methods, but with new assays also come new questions.
 

Is anyone safe?

We receive regular questions from physicians about the value of antibody testing, but it’s not yet clear how best to respond. While the assays seem to be reliable, the utility of the results are still ill defined. Antibodies to SARS-CoV-2 (both IgG and IgM) appear to peak about 2-3 weeks after symptom onset, but we don’t yet know if the presence of those antibodies confers long-term immunity. Therefore, patients should not use the information to change their masking or social-distancing practices, nor should they presume that they are safe from becoming reinfected with COVID-19. While new research looks promising, there are still too many unknowns to be able to confidently reassure providers or patients of the true value of antibody testing. This underscores our final point: Medicine remains an art.

As we are regularly reminded, we’ll never fully anticipate the challenges or barriers to success, and technology will never replace the value of clinical judgment and human experience. While the situation is unsettling in many ways, we are reassured and encouraged by the role we still get to play in keeping our patients healthy in this health care crisis, and we’ll continue to do so through whatever the future holds.
 

Dr. Notte is a family physician and chief medical officer of Abington Lansdale (Pa.) Hospital - Jefferson Health. Follow him on Twitter (@doctornotte). Dr. Skolnik is professor of family and community medicine at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, and associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Hospital–Jefferson Health. They have no conflicts related to the content of this piece.
 

One of hardest parts of being an obstetrician is taking care of patients who experience a stillbirth. I am very comfortable with the care of a grieving patient and I always have been, although I am not sure why. I have a model of care that I have evolved in my 16 years since medical school graduation. This model is not based on formal instruction because I received none, but on my natural instincts of what a grieving mom and her family need to hear and receive in the worst moments of their lives. All obstetrics providers grieve the loss of the baby, but often not with the patient but on our own. We may do this because we want to respect the patient’s privacy or because we are not sure of the words to say. I hope I can provide some guidance for those who struggle with what to do.

SDI Productions/E+

I delivered my first stillborn baby as a third-year medical student. My mentor, a chief resident, saw something in me and encouraged me to care for this mother. She had twins and one baby was still living, but the prognosis was poor since this was the surviving twin from a monochorionic diamniotic pregnancy. On the day of the mom’s induction, I just pulled up a chair and talked with her. We talked about her life, the loss of the first baby several weeks before, and her hope that her surviving son would be okay. She felt so bonded to me that she refused to push until I was there. Her delivery is still firm in my mind. I still remember 17 years later the room she delivered in.

My first loss (stillbirth) as a resident was my intern year – a beautiful baby named Jude, who was stillborn at 39 weeks. After delivering Jude, I asked the family about the funeral arrangements. Three days later, I attended his funeral. I looked all around for the mother’s attending doctors but none of them were there. I remember thinking then that it was a given that they would be there, but now I know that it is rare. I also learned a lot about the grief a stillborn baby brings while listening to Jude’s father’s eulogy. He talked about how Jude would never bake cookies with Aunt Jane, ride the slide with cousin Chris, or put on a yellow backpack and ride the bus on the first day of school. Because of this eulogy, I understood this unique kind of grief that these losses bring early in my training.

I delivered many losses in my residency. The attendings left soon after the birth and I stayed behind with the family. I sat and counseled the families, and I helped them make memories. I realized that to care for these patients, I would need to trust my instincts because there was no formal and little informal training on how to care for families who lost their babies.

Once I completed residency, I was really able to do my “thing.” At loss deliveries, I was able to model for residents my method of care. I showed them that families want and need attention, support, and guidance. I modeled for them how to deliver and greet the baby. That it is not necessary to leave the room right after the birth, and it is okay to grieve and help families meet their babies. I modeled commenting on the baby’s features, on who they looked like. I showed how laughing about how the baby has grandma’s nose is okay. I showed them that it is okay to ask to hold and get a picture taken with the baby. I showed them that these are the only moments these families will get with their babies, and it is our job to help them do this. The family will have many moments alone in the days and weeks to come. They need our support and guidance. It is a part of being an ob.gyn. to care for families after stillbirths, and we do not want our patients to feel abandoned during this time by those they entrust to care for them.

I also was able to create a model for aftercare. I call my families often after they go home. Sometimes I catch them in the anger stage of the grief process and I let them vent. I work through this with them, and I answer their hardest and sometimes accusatory questions regarding care leading up to the diagnosis. I am not saying this is easy for me or for them. I think fear of these tough conversations is a barrier to giving the emotional support that these families need. I work through this with them in an honest and open manner. I also call to check on the patients as much as possible, especially on anniversaries. I am not saying that all providers must follow this model. This is my passion and is natural for me, but data clearly show that the standard of emotional care we provide is not what patients need at this time. Thankfully, there is an amazing resource of grief counselors, social workers, online resources, and support groups for these families to help them get through the tragedy. These resources, however, are not the provider who spent this precious time with them and their beloved baby, and our emotional support is invaluable.

This past year has been very eventful for me. One of my patients delivered a new baby, after a prior loss, and asked if we could teach together. I had mentioned that everything I do with stillbirths is not based on my residency education, but on my experience and instinctual feeling of what families need. She knew from friends in bereavement circles that they felt that their care was different. We started teaching last summer and have done 10 training sessions to date; hopefully we will continue to teach new groups of nurses, residents, medical students, doulas, and physician assistant students each year.

This year also was eventful because I discovered the Star Legacy Foundation, a national not-for-profit organization with the goal of spreading awareness, education, and prevention regarding stillbirth. I attended their 2019 Summit in Minnesota. I thought I would meet many more doctors and midwives like myself, and I would learn even more about care for bereaved patients. However, that summer I learned preventing stillbirth may be possible from the then chief medical officer of Scotland, Catherine Calderwood, MB ChB. She talked about the preventive protocol she had created that had reduced the stillbirth rate by 23%. Because I was one of only five ob.gyn. nonspeaker attendees in a room of 400, I realized I had a real opportunity to try to bring some model for prevention to the United States. I brought the U.K. protocol to my practice and we have been doing it now for 9 months. (See “Decreased fetal movement: Time to educate patients and ourselves” at mdedge.com/pediatrics.)

I have had a year to think about why the U.S. stillbirth rate is higher than that of many high-income nations and why we have the lowest annual rate of reduction in the 2016 Lancet series among high resource nations.¹ I think it is due to lack of education and training for providers in stillbirth prevention and care, which has led to further marginalization and stigmatization of bereaved moms. This has pushed them further into the shadows and makes it taboo to share their stories. It is providers being fearful to even mention to patients that stillbirth still happens. It is the lack of any protocol on how to educate patients and providers about fetal movement, and what to do if pregnant women complain about a decrease or change in fetal movement. I think a lot of this stems from an innate discomfort that obstetric providers have in the care of these patients. That if women felt cared for and empowered to tell their stories, there would be more efforts at stillbirth education and prevention.

I often think of an experience that the founder of Star Legacy, Lindsey Wimmer, experienced when she lost her son, Garrett, 16 years ago. She told a story in the documentary, “Don’t talk about the baby.” She tells that on the first night of the induction, the nurse came in and told her that the attending wanted to turn off the oxytocin so “she could get her rest.” I heard this and immediately knew the attending’s true reason for turning off the oxytocin. Lindsey then said she knew it was because the attending did not want to wake up to deliver a dead baby. I wrote Lindsey that day and told her I completely agreed and apologized on behalf of my profession for that care. She wrote me back that she had waited 16 years to have a provider validate her feelings about this. I told her I think her doctor was fearful and uncomfortable with this birth and was avoiding it, but I believe with better education and training this can change. I want to deliver babies like Garrett during my shift, because it is giving this vital care that reminds me why I became a doctor in the first place.

Dr. Florescue is an ob.gyn. in private practice at Women Gynecology and Childbirth Associates in Rochester, N.Y. She delivers babies at Highland Hospital in Rochester. She has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her a [email protected].

References

1. “Stillbirths 2016: ending preventable stillbirths.” Series from The Lancet journals. Published: Jan. 20, 2016.

2. BMC Pregnancy Childbirth. 2012 Nov 27. doi: 10.1186/1471-2393-12-137.

One of hardest parts of being an obstetrician is taking care of patients who experience a stillbirth. I am very comfortable with the care of a grieving patient and I always have been, although I am not sure why. I have a model of care that I have evolved in my 16 years since medical school graduation. This model is not based on formal instruction because I received none, but on my natural instincts of what a grieving mom and her family need to hear and receive in the worst moments of their lives. All obstetrics providers grieve the loss of the baby, but often not with the patient but on our own. We may do this because we want to respect the patient’s privacy or because we are not sure of the words to say. I hope I can provide some guidance for those who struggle with what to do.

SDI Productions/E+

I delivered my first stillborn baby as a third-year medical student. My mentor, a chief resident, saw something in me and encouraged me to care for this mother. She had twins and one baby was still living, but the prognosis was poor since this was the surviving twin from a monochorionic diamniotic pregnancy. On the day of the mom’s induction, I just pulled up a chair and talked with her. We talked about her life, the loss of the first baby several weeks before, and her hope that her surviving son would be okay. She felt so bonded to me that she refused to push until I was there. Her delivery is still firm in my mind. I still remember 17 years later the room she delivered in.

My first loss (stillbirth) as a resident was my intern year – a beautiful baby named Jude, who was stillborn at 39 weeks. After delivering Jude, I asked the family about the funeral arrangements. Three days later, I attended his funeral. I looked all around for the mother’s attending doctors but none of them were there. I remember thinking then that it was a given that they would be there, but now I know that it is rare. I also learned a lot about the grief a stillborn baby brings while listening to Jude’s father’s eulogy. He talked about how Jude would never bake cookies with Aunt Jane, ride the slide with cousin Chris, or put on a yellow backpack and ride the bus on the first day of school. Because of this eulogy, I understood this unique kind of grief that these losses bring early in my training.

I delivered many losses in my residency. The attendings left soon after the birth and I stayed behind with the family. I sat and counseled the families, and I helped them make memories. I realized that to care for these patients, I would need to trust my instincts because there was no formal and little informal training on how to care for families who lost their babies.

Once I completed residency, I was really able to do my “thing.” At loss deliveries, I was able to model for residents my method of care. I showed them that families want and need attention, support, and guidance. I modeled for them how to deliver and greet the baby. That it is not necessary to leave the room right after the birth, and it is okay to grieve and help families meet their babies. I modeled commenting on the baby’s features, on who they looked like. I showed how laughing about how the baby has grandma’s nose is okay. I showed them that it is okay to ask to hold and get a picture taken with the baby. I showed them that these are the only moments these families will get with their babies, and it is our job to help them do this. The family will have many moments alone in the days and weeks to come. They need our support and guidance. It is a part of being an ob.gyn. to care for families after stillbirths, and we do not want our patients to feel abandoned during this time by those they entrust to care for them.

I also was able to create a model for aftercare. I call my families often after they go home. Sometimes I catch them in the anger stage of the grief process and I let them vent. I work through this with them, and I answer their hardest and sometimes accusatory questions regarding care leading up to the diagnosis. I am not saying this is easy for me or for them. I think fear of these tough conversations is a barrier to giving the emotional support that these families need. I work through this with them in an honest and open manner. I also call to check on the patients as much as possible, especially on anniversaries. I am not saying that all providers must follow this model. This is my passion and is natural for me, but data clearly show that the standard of emotional care we provide is not what patients need at this time. Thankfully, there is an amazing resource of grief counselors, social workers, online resources, and support groups for these families to help them get through the tragedy. These resources, however, are not the provider who spent this precious time with them and their beloved baby, and our emotional support is invaluable.

This past year has been very eventful for me. One of my patients delivered a new baby, after a prior loss, and asked if we could teach together. I had mentioned that everything I do with stillbirths is not based on my residency education, but on my experience and instinctual feeling of what families need. She knew from friends in bereavement circles that they felt that their care was different. We started teaching last summer and have done 10 training sessions to date; hopefully we will continue to teach new groups of nurses, residents, medical students, doulas, and physician assistant students each year.

This year also was eventful because I discovered the Star Legacy Foundation, a national not-for-profit organization with the goal of spreading awareness, education, and prevention regarding stillbirth. I attended their 2019 Summit in Minnesota. I thought I would meet many more doctors and midwives like myself, and I would learn even more about care for bereaved patients. However, that summer I learned preventing stillbirth may be possible from the then chief medical officer of Scotland, Catherine Calderwood, MB ChB. She talked about the preventive protocol she had created that had reduced the stillbirth rate by 23%. Because I was one of only five ob.gyn. nonspeaker attendees in a room of 400, I realized I had a real opportunity to try to bring some model for prevention to the United States. I brought the U.K. protocol to my practice and we have been doing it now for 9 months. (See “Decreased fetal movement: Time to educate patients and ourselves” at mdedge.com/pediatrics.)

I have had a year to think about why the U.S. stillbirth rate is higher than that of many high-income nations and why we have the lowest annual rate of reduction in the 2016 Lancet series among high resource nations.¹ I think it is due to lack of education and training for providers in stillbirth prevention and care, which has led to further marginalization and stigmatization of bereaved moms. This has pushed them further into the shadows and makes it taboo to share their stories. It is providers being fearful to even mention to patients that stillbirth still happens. It is the lack of any protocol on how to educate patients and providers about fetal movement, and what to do if pregnant women complain about a decrease or change in fetal movement. I think a lot of this stems from an innate discomfort that obstetric providers have in the care of these patients. That if women felt cared for and empowered to tell their stories, there would be more efforts at stillbirth education and prevention.

I often think of an experience that the founder of Star Legacy, Lindsey Wimmer, experienced when she lost her son, Garrett, 16 years ago. She told a story in the documentary, “Don’t talk about the baby.” She tells that on the first night of the induction, the nurse came in and told her that the attending wanted to turn off the oxytocin so “she could get her rest.” I heard this and immediately knew the attending’s true reason for turning off the oxytocin. Lindsey then said she knew it was because the attending did not want to wake up to deliver a dead baby. I wrote Lindsey that day and told her I completely agreed and apologized on behalf of my profession for that care. She wrote me back that she had waited 16 years to have a provider validate her feelings about this. I told her I think her doctor was fearful and uncomfortable with this birth and was avoiding it, but I believe with better education and training this can change. I want to deliver babies like Garrett during my shift, because it is giving this vital care that reminds me why I became a doctor in the first place.

Dr. Florescue is an ob.gyn. in private practice at Women Gynecology and Childbirth Associates in Rochester, N.Y. She delivers babies at Highland Hospital in Rochester. She has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her a [email protected].

References

1. “Stillbirths 2016: ending preventable stillbirths.” Series from The Lancet journals. Published: Jan. 20, 2016.

2. BMC Pregnancy Childbirth. 2012 Nov 27. doi: 10.1186/1471-2393-12-137.

One of hardest parts of being an obstetrician is taking care of patients who experience a stillbirth. I am very comfortable with the care of a grieving patient and I always have been, although I am not sure why. I have a model of care that I have evolved in my 16 years since medical school graduation. This model is not based on formal instruction because I received none, but on my natural instincts of what a grieving mom and her family need to hear and receive in the worst moments of their lives. All obstetrics providers grieve the loss of the baby, but often not with the patient but on our own. We may do this because we want to respect the patient’s privacy or because we are not sure of the words to say. I hope I can provide some guidance for those who struggle with what to do.

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I delivered my first stillborn baby as a third-year medical student. My mentor, a chief resident, saw something in me and encouraged me to care for this mother. She had twins and one baby was still living, but the prognosis was poor since this was the surviving twin from a monochorionic diamniotic pregnancy. On the day of the mom’s induction, I just pulled up a chair and talked with her. We talked about her life, the loss of the first baby several weeks before, and her hope that her surviving son would be okay. She felt so bonded to me that she refused to push until I was there. Her delivery is still firm in my mind. I still remember 17 years later the room she delivered in.

My first loss (stillbirth) as a resident was my intern year – a beautiful baby named Jude, who was stillborn at 39 weeks. After delivering Jude, I asked the family about the funeral arrangements. Three days later, I attended his funeral. I looked all around for the mother’s attending doctors but none of them were there. I remember thinking then that it was a given that they would be there, but now I know that it is rare. I also learned a lot about the grief a stillborn baby brings while listening to Jude’s father’s eulogy. He talked about how Jude would never bake cookies with Aunt Jane, ride the slide with cousin Chris, or put on a yellow backpack and ride the bus on the first day of school. Because of this eulogy, I understood this unique kind of grief that these losses bring early in my training.

I delivered many losses in my residency. The attendings left soon after the birth and I stayed behind with the family. I sat and counseled the families, and I helped them make memories. I realized that to care for these patients, I would need to trust my instincts because there was no formal and little informal training on how to care for families who lost their babies.

Once I completed residency, I was really able to do my “thing.” At loss deliveries, I was able to model for residents my method of care. I showed them that families want and need attention, support, and guidance. I modeled for them how to deliver and greet the baby. That it is not necessary to leave the room right after the birth, and it is okay to grieve and help families meet their babies. I modeled commenting on the baby’s features, on who they looked like. I showed how laughing about how the baby has grandma’s nose is okay. I showed them that it is okay to ask to hold and get a picture taken with the baby. I showed them that these are the only moments these families will get with their babies, and it is our job to help them do this. The family will have many moments alone in the days and weeks to come. They need our support and guidance. It is a part of being an ob.gyn. to care for families after stillbirths, and we do not want our patients to feel abandoned during this time by those they entrust to care for them.

I also was able to create a model for aftercare. I call my families often after they go home. Sometimes I catch them in the anger stage of the grief process and I let them vent. I work through this with them, and I answer their hardest and sometimes accusatory questions regarding care leading up to the diagnosis. I am not saying this is easy for me or for them. I think fear of these tough conversations is a barrier to giving the emotional support that these families need. I work through this with them in an honest and open manner. I also call to check on the patients as much as possible, especially on anniversaries. I am not saying that all providers must follow this model. This is my passion and is natural for me, but data clearly show that the standard of emotional care we provide is not what patients need at this time. Thankfully, there is an amazing resource of grief counselors, social workers, online resources, and support groups for these families to help them get through the tragedy. These resources, however, are not the provider who spent this precious time with them and their beloved baby, and our emotional support is invaluable.

This past year has been very eventful for me. One of my patients delivered a new baby, after a prior loss, and asked if we could teach together. I had mentioned that everything I do with stillbirths is not based on my residency education, but on my experience and instinctual feeling of what families need. She knew from friends in bereavement circles that they felt that their care was different. We started teaching last summer and have done 10 training sessions to date; hopefully we will continue to teach new groups of nurses, residents, medical students, doulas, and physician assistant students each year.

This year also was eventful because I discovered the Star Legacy Foundation, a national not-for-profit organization with the goal of spreading awareness, education, and prevention regarding stillbirth. I attended their 2019 Summit in Minnesota. I thought I would meet many more doctors and midwives like myself, and I would learn even more about care for bereaved patients. However, that summer I learned preventing stillbirth may be possible from the then chief medical officer of Scotland, Catherine Calderwood, MB ChB. She talked about the preventive protocol she had created that had reduced the stillbirth rate by 23%. Because I was one of only five ob.gyn. nonspeaker attendees in a room of 400, I realized I had a real opportunity to try to bring some model for prevention to the United States. I brought the U.K. protocol to my practice and we have been doing it now for 9 months. (See “Decreased fetal movement: Time to educate patients and ourselves” at mdedge.com/pediatrics.)

I have had a year to think about why the U.S. stillbirth rate is higher than that of many high-income nations and why we have the lowest annual rate of reduction in the 2016 Lancet series among high resource nations.¹ I think it is due to lack of education and training for providers in stillbirth prevention and care, which has led to further marginalization and stigmatization of bereaved moms. This has pushed them further into the shadows and makes it taboo to share their stories. It is providers being fearful to even mention to patients that stillbirth still happens. It is the lack of any protocol on how to educate patients and providers about fetal movement, and what to do if pregnant women complain about a decrease or change in fetal movement. I think a lot of this stems from an innate discomfort that obstetric providers have in the care of these patients. That if women felt cared for and empowered to tell their stories, there would be more efforts at stillbirth education and prevention.

I often think of an experience that the founder of Star Legacy, Lindsey Wimmer, experienced when she lost her son, Garrett, 16 years ago. She told a story in the documentary, “Don’t talk about the baby.” She tells that on the first night of the induction, the nurse came in and told her that the attending wanted to turn off the oxytocin so “she could get her rest.” I heard this and immediately knew the attending’s true reason for turning off the oxytocin. Lindsey then said she knew it was because the attending did not want to wake up to deliver a dead baby. I wrote Lindsey that day and told her I completely agreed and apologized on behalf of my profession for that care. She wrote me back that she had waited 16 years to have a provider validate her feelings about this. I told her I think her doctor was fearful and uncomfortable with this birth and was avoiding it, but I believe with better education and training this can change. I want to deliver babies like Garrett during my shift, because it is giving this vital care that reminds me why I became a doctor in the first place.

Dr. Florescue is an ob.gyn. in private practice at Women Gynecology and Childbirth Associates in Rochester, N.Y. She delivers babies at Highland Hospital in Rochester. She has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her a [email protected].

References

1. “Stillbirths 2016: ending preventable stillbirths.” Series from The Lancet journals. Published: Jan. 20, 2016.

2. BMC Pregnancy Childbirth. 2012 Nov 27. doi: 10.1186/1471-2393-12-137.

Substance use disorder and its daily consequences take no breaks even during a pandemic. The stressors created by COVID-19, including deaths of loved ones and the disruptions to normal life from policies aimed at flattening the curve, seem to have increased substance use.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

I practice as a hospitalist with an internal medicine background and specialty in addiction medicine at BronxCare Health System’s inpatient detoxification unit, a 24/7, 20-bed medically-supervised unit in South Bronx in New York City. It is one of the comprehensive services provided by the BronxCare’s life recovery center and addiction services, which also includes an outpatient clinic, opioid treatment program, inpatient rehab, and a half-way house. Inpatient detoxification units like ours are designed to treat serious addictions and chemical dependency and prevent and treat life-threatening withdrawal symptoms and signs or complications. Our patients come from all over the city and its adjoining suburbs, including from emergency room referrals, referral clinics, courts and the justice system, walk-ins, and self-referrals.

At a time when many inpatient detoxification units within the city were temporarily closed due to fear of inpatient spread of the virus or to provide extra COVID beds in anticipation for the peak surge, we have been able to provide a needed service. In fact, several other inpatient detoxification programs within the city have been able to refer their patients to our facility.

Individuals with substance use disorder have historically been a vulnerable and underserved population and possess high risk for multiple health problems as well as preexisting conditions. Many have limited life options financially, educationally, and with housing, and encounter barriers to accessing primary health care services, including preventive services. The introduction of the COVID-19 pandemic into these patients’ precarious health situations only made things worse as many of the limited resources for patients with substance use disorder were diverted to battling the pandemic. Numerous inpatient and outpatient addiction services, for example, were temporarily shut down. This has led to an increase in domestic violence, and psychiatric decompensation, including psychosis, suicidal attempts, and worsening of medical comorbidities in these patients.

Our wake-up call came when the first case of COVID-19 was confirmed in New York in early March. Within a short period of time the state became the epicenter for COVID-19. With the projection of millions of cases being positive and the number of new cases doubling every third day at the onset in New York City, we knew we had a battle brewing and needed to radically transform our mode of operation fast.

Our first task was to ensure the safety of our patients and the dedicated health workers attending to them. Instead of shutting down we decided to focus on education, screening, mask usage, social distancing, and intensifying hygiene. We streamlined the patient point of entry through one screening site, while also brushing up on our history-taking to intently screen for COVID-19. This included not just focusing on travels from China, but from Europe and other parts of the world.

Yes, we did ask patients about cough, fever, shortness of breath or difficulty breathing, feeling fatigued, severe body ache, and possible contact with someone who is sick or has traveled overseas. But we were also attuned to the increased rate of community spread and the presentation of other symptoms, such as loss of taste and smell, early in the process. Hence we were able to triage patients with suspected cases to the appropriate sections of the hospital for further screening, testing, and evaluation, instead of having those patients admitted to the detox unit.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

Dr. Fagbemi is a hospitalist at BronxCare Health System, a not-for-profit health and teaching hospital system serving South and Central Bronx in New York. He has no conflicts of interest to disclose.

Substance use disorder and its daily consequences take no breaks even during a pandemic. The stressors created by COVID-19, including deaths of loved ones and the disruptions to normal life from policies aimed at flattening the curve, seem to have increased substance use.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

I practice as a hospitalist with an internal medicine background and specialty in addiction medicine at BronxCare Health System’s inpatient detoxification unit, a 24/7, 20-bed medically-supervised unit in South Bronx in New York City. It is one of the comprehensive services provided by the BronxCare’s life recovery center and addiction services, which also includes an outpatient clinic, opioid treatment program, inpatient rehab, and a half-way house. Inpatient detoxification units like ours are designed to treat serious addictions and chemical dependency and prevent and treat life-threatening withdrawal symptoms and signs or complications. Our patients come from all over the city and its adjoining suburbs, including from emergency room referrals, referral clinics, courts and the justice system, walk-ins, and self-referrals.

At a time when many inpatient detoxification units within the city were temporarily closed due to fear of inpatient spread of the virus or to provide extra COVID beds in anticipation for the peak surge, we have been able to provide a needed service. In fact, several other inpatient detoxification programs within the city have been able to refer their patients to our facility.

Individuals with substance use disorder have historically been a vulnerable and underserved population and possess high risk for multiple health problems as well as preexisting conditions. Many have limited life options financially, educationally, and with housing, and encounter barriers to accessing primary health care services, including preventive services. The introduction of the COVID-19 pandemic into these patients’ precarious health situations only made things worse as many of the limited resources for patients with substance use disorder were diverted to battling the pandemic. Numerous inpatient and outpatient addiction services, for example, were temporarily shut down. This has led to an increase in domestic violence, and psychiatric decompensation, including psychosis, suicidal attempts, and worsening of medical comorbidities in these patients.

Our wake-up call came when the first case of COVID-19 was confirmed in New York in early March. Within a short period of time the state became the epicenter for COVID-19. With the projection of millions of cases being positive and the number of new cases doubling every third day at the onset in New York City, we knew we had a battle brewing and needed to radically transform our mode of operation fast.

Our first task was to ensure the safety of our patients and the dedicated health workers attending to them. Instead of shutting down we decided to focus on education, screening, mask usage, social distancing, and intensifying hygiene. We streamlined the patient point of entry through one screening site, while also brushing up on our history-taking to intently screen for COVID-19. This included not just focusing on travels from China, but from Europe and other parts of the world.

Yes, we did ask patients about cough, fever, shortness of breath or difficulty breathing, feeling fatigued, severe body ache, and possible contact with someone who is sick or has traveled overseas. But we were also attuned to the increased rate of community spread and the presentation of other symptoms, such as loss of taste and smell, early in the process. Hence we were able to triage patients with suspected cases to the appropriate sections of the hospital for further screening, testing, and evaluation, instead of having those patients admitted to the detox unit.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

Dr. Fagbemi is a hospitalist at BronxCare Health System, a not-for-profit health and teaching hospital system serving South and Central Bronx in New York. He has no conflicts of interest to disclose.

Substance use disorder and its daily consequences take no breaks even during a pandemic. The stressors created by COVID-19, including deaths of loved ones and the disruptions to normal life from policies aimed at flattening the curve, seem to have increased substance use.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

I practice as a hospitalist with an internal medicine background and specialty in addiction medicine at BronxCare Health System’s inpatient detoxification unit, a 24/7, 20-bed medically-supervised unit in South Bronx in New York City. It is one of the comprehensive services provided by the BronxCare’s life recovery center and addiction services, which also includes an outpatient clinic, opioid treatment program, inpatient rehab, and a half-way house. Inpatient detoxification units like ours are designed to treat serious addictions and chemical dependency and prevent and treat life-threatening withdrawal symptoms and signs or complications. Our patients come from all over the city and its adjoining suburbs, including from emergency room referrals, referral clinics, courts and the justice system, walk-ins, and self-referrals.

At a time when many inpatient detoxification units within the city were temporarily closed due to fear of inpatient spread of the virus or to provide extra COVID beds in anticipation for the peak surge, we have been able to provide a needed service. In fact, several other inpatient detoxification programs within the city have been able to refer their patients to our facility.

Individuals with substance use disorder have historically been a vulnerable and underserved population and possess high risk for multiple health problems as well as preexisting conditions. Many have limited life options financially, educationally, and with housing, and encounter barriers to accessing primary health care services, including preventive services. The introduction of the COVID-19 pandemic into these patients’ precarious health situations only made things worse as many of the limited resources for patients with substance use disorder were diverted to battling the pandemic. Numerous inpatient and outpatient addiction services, for example, were temporarily shut down. This has led to an increase in domestic violence, and psychiatric decompensation, including psychosis, suicidal attempts, and worsening of medical comorbidities in these patients.

Our wake-up call came when the first case of COVID-19 was confirmed in New York in early March. Within a short period of time the state became the epicenter for COVID-19. With the projection of millions of cases being positive and the number of new cases doubling every third day at the onset in New York City, we knew we had a battle brewing and needed to radically transform our mode of operation fast.

Our first task was to ensure the safety of our patients and the dedicated health workers attending to them. Instead of shutting down we decided to focus on education, screening, mask usage, social distancing, and intensifying hygiene. We streamlined the patient point of entry through one screening site, while also brushing up on our history-taking to intently screen for COVID-19. This included not just focusing on travels from China, but from Europe and other parts of the world.

Yes, we did ask patients about cough, fever, shortness of breath or difficulty breathing, feeling fatigued, severe body ache, and possible contact with someone who is sick or has traveled overseas. But we were also attuned to the increased rate of community spread and the presentation of other symptoms, such as loss of taste and smell, early in the process. Hence we were able to triage patients with suspected cases to the appropriate sections of the hospital for further screening, testing, and evaluation, instead of having those patients admitted to the detox unit.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

Dr. Fagbemi is a hospitalist at BronxCare Health System, a not-for-profit health and teaching hospital system serving South and Central Bronx in New York. He has no conflicts of interest to disclose.

Author's note: This is the first of a two-part series. In December 2018, Atlanta Gastroenterology Associates partnered with Frazier Healthcare Partners to form the practice management company United Digestive (UD). Since that time, colleagues across the country have evaluated their own private equity prospects and partnerships, as well as monitored the progress of our transition.

Our guiding principle is to provide a best-in-class operational infrastructure, so independent gastroenterologists can focus on delivering the highest quality patient care. Thus, in the first year, significant efforts and capital have been invested into United Digestive’s scalable platform to promote organic growth, as well as facilitate a smooth transition for other groups and physicians joining the team. So how are things going? Enjoy this two-part article where we reached out to several team members from all levels within the organization and asked them to share their personal experiences – both highlights and challenges – during UD’s first year. Here’s what they had to say.
 

During the COVID-19 crisis, how has UD management responded? How has the UD management services organization model affected partner level physician (PLP) compensation?

Dr. Marc Rosenberg, UD Physician Executive Committee member:

• “Immediately, the entire leadership team recognized the threat of COVID to our community, patients, staff, and business. A multidisciplinary task force including clinical and business leaders utilized our PE partner’s vast resources, local hospital expertise, national societal recommendations and colleagues’ experiences from around the country to focus on protocols and procedures to protect our patients and staff. A few of the team’s timely decisions included: closing the majority of our patient fronting services, transitioning to telehealth, hiring an infection control consultant, allowing physical distancing of our staff with off sight work, instituting symptomatic pathways, donating personal protective gear to local hospitals, covering all benefits as well as provided resources to obtain government benefits to furloughed team members, developing a provider wellness program, and encouraging hospital coverage considerations for high risk providers. I also know the team is focusing on how we re-open at the appropriate time with necessary safety considerations, like investigating testing options and ensuring appropriate PPE is in place. The collaboration between clinical and business leadership has been tremendous through this evolving and challenging period. As for UD physician partner compensation, our model is uniquely organized such that the MSO covers all overhead expenses with partners contributing a fixed percentage of a partner’s collections, while others typically share overhead expenses. During uncertain times, like the COVID-19 crisis, it is reassuring to partners to know that they are not responsible for the cost of infrastructure (i.e. leases, capital equipment, EHR system, consultants, etc.) and staffing, including current and new associates.”

With formation of United Digestive as an MSO, has your day-to-day work life changed or your clinical decision-making been impacted?

Dr. Aja McCutchen, UD Physician Executive Committee Member:

• “With the formation of UD, my daily work life has changed very little; however, with their focus on improving “back-office” functions, my schedule is now fully optimized by reducing gaps from cancellations with same-day/next-day scheduling. In addition, the patient experience has been enhanced with decreased wait times, easier appointment scheduling, and quicker access to support staff. The procurement of business intelligence tools, and, more importantly, the implementation of dashboards, has provided much needed visibility across the organization allowing managerial decisions to be driven by accurate data.

From a clinical decision-making standpoint, Atlanta Gastroenterology was already armed with strong clinical teams and committees. We have been able to build upon our pre-existing committees and optimize their ability to steward best practices and develop clinical pathways. This, in turn, translates to consistency across the organization in the delivery of evidence-based, comprehensive GI care.”
 

Kimberly Orleck, PA-C, Advanced Practice Provider (APP) Supervisor:

• “The formation of UD has not affected my clinical decision-making abilities. In fact, this new platform is dedicated to empowering and establishing APPs as independent clinicians with appropriate physician oversight. As a result, I have welcomed more administrative responsibilities and have become more involved in business meetings and decision making. We have worked together to better utilize APPs using data to match supply with demand.”

Physician compensation improvement is typically a key concern for physicians who work with private equity MSOs. How has United Digestive performed for its partner-level physicians in year one?

Dr. Marc Rosenberg:

• “The MSO has helped to improve physician income – slowly at first and now on a steeper trajectory. We have been ahead of expected income improvement based on models we reviewed when evaluating the formations of an MSO in potential partnership with Frazier Healthcare Partners. United Digestive’s EBIDTA, of which each partner-level physician owns a significant percentage through shares from rollover proceeds, has grown impressively in one year. This has been achieved mostly through significant organic growth and to a lesser degree through mergers and acquisitions. UD has helped to enhance the bottom line through increased reimbursements from payor negotiated contracts, new revenue-generating service lines, and operational efficiencies.”

Dr. Patel and Dr. Sonnenshine are with Atlanta Gastroenterology Associates in Atlanta, which is part of United Digestive. They have no conflicts.

*This story was updated on 6/1/2020.

Author's note: This is the first of a two-part series. In December 2018, Atlanta Gastroenterology Associates partnered with Frazier Healthcare Partners to form the practice management company United Digestive (UD). Since that time, colleagues across the country have evaluated their own private equity prospects and partnerships, as well as monitored the progress of our transition.

Our guiding principle is to provide a best-in-class operational infrastructure, so independent gastroenterologists can focus on delivering the highest quality patient care. Thus, in the first year, significant efforts and capital have been invested into United Digestive’s scalable platform to promote organic growth, as well as facilitate a smooth transition for other groups and physicians joining the team. So how are things going? Enjoy this two-part article where we reached out to several team members from all levels within the organization and asked them to share their personal experiences – both highlights and challenges – during UD’s first year. Here’s what they had to say.
 

During the COVID-19 crisis, how has UD management responded? How has the UD management services organization model affected partner level physician (PLP) compensation?

Dr. Marc Rosenberg, UD Physician Executive Committee member:

• “Immediately, the entire leadership team recognized the threat of COVID to our community, patients, staff, and business. A multidisciplinary task force including clinical and business leaders utilized our PE partner’s vast resources, local hospital expertise, national societal recommendations and colleagues’ experiences from around the country to focus on protocols and procedures to protect our patients and staff. A few of the team’s timely decisions included: closing the majority of our patient fronting services, transitioning to telehealth, hiring an infection control consultant, allowing physical distancing of our staff with off sight work, instituting symptomatic pathways, donating personal protective gear to local hospitals, covering all benefits as well as provided resources to obtain government benefits to furloughed team members, developing a provider wellness program, and encouraging hospital coverage considerations for high risk providers. I also know the team is focusing on how we re-open at the appropriate time with necessary safety considerations, like investigating testing options and ensuring appropriate PPE is in place. The collaboration between clinical and business leadership has been tremendous through this evolving and challenging period. As for UD physician partner compensation, our model is uniquely organized such that the MSO covers all overhead expenses with partners contributing a fixed percentage of a partner’s collections, while others typically share overhead expenses. During uncertain times, like the COVID-19 crisis, it is reassuring to partners to know that they are not responsible for the cost of infrastructure (i.e. leases, capital equipment, EHR system, consultants, etc.) and staffing, including current and new associates.”

With formation of United Digestive as an MSO, has your day-to-day work life changed or your clinical decision-making been impacted?

Dr. Aja McCutchen, UD Physician Executive Committee Member:

• “With the formation of UD, my daily work life has changed very little; however, with their focus on improving “back-office” functions, my schedule is now fully optimized by reducing gaps from cancellations with same-day/next-day scheduling. In addition, the patient experience has been enhanced with decreased wait times, easier appointment scheduling, and quicker access to support staff. The procurement of business intelligence tools, and, more importantly, the implementation of dashboards, has provided much needed visibility across the organization allowing managerial decisions to be driven by accurate data.

From a clinical decision-making standpoint, Atlanta Gastroenterology was already armed with strong clinical teams and committees. We have been able to build upon our pre-existing committees and optimize their ability to steward best practices and develop clinical pathways. This, in turn, translates to consistency across the organization in the delivery of evidence-based, comprehensive GI care.”
 

Kimberly Orleck, PA-C, Advanced Practice Provider (APP) Supervisor:

• “The formation of UD has not affected my clinical decision-making abilities. In fact, this new platform is dedicated to empowering and establishing APPs as independent clinicians with appropriate physician oversight. As a result, I have welcomed more administrative responsibilities and have become more involved in business meetings and decision making. We have worked together to better utilize APPs using data to match supply with demand.”

Physician compensation improvement is typically a key concern for physicians who work with private equity MSOs. How has United Digestive performed for its partner-level physicians in year one?

Dr. Marc Rosenberg:

• “The MSO has helped to improve physician income – slowly at first and now on a steeper trajectory. We have been ahead of expected income improvement based on models we reviewed when evaluating the formations of an MSO in potential partnership with Frazier Healthcare Partners. United Digestive’s EBIDTA, of which each partner-level physician owns a significant percentage through shares from rollover proceeds, has grown impressively in one year. This has been achieved mostly through significant organic growth and to a lesser degree through mergers and acquisitions. UD has helped to enhance the bottom line through increased reimbursements from payor negotiated contracts, new revenue-generating service lines, and operational efficiencies.”

Dr. Patel and Dr. Sonnenshine are with Atlanta Gastroenterology Associates in Atlanta, which is part of United Digestive. They have no conflicts.

*This story was updated on 6/1/2020.

Author's note: This is the first of a two-part series. In December 2018, Atlanta Gastroenterology Associates partnered with Frazier Healthcare Partners to form the practice management company United Digestive (UD). Since that time, colleagues across the country have evaluated their own private equity prospects and partnerships, as well as monitored the progress of our transition.

Our guiding principle is to provide a best-in-class operational infrastructure, so independent gastroenterologists can focus on delivering the highest quality patient care. Thus, in the first year, significant efforts and capital have been invested into United Digestive’s scalable platform to promote organic growth, as well as facilitate a smooth transition for other groups and physicians joining the team. So how are things going? Enjoy this two-part article where we reached out to several team members from all levels within the organization and asked them to share their personal experiences – both highlights and challenges – during UD’s first year. Here’s what they had to say.
 

During the COVID-19 crisis, how has UD management responded? How has the UD management services organization model affected partner level physician (PLP) compensation?

Dr. Marc Rosenberg, UD Physician Executive Committee member:

• “Immediately, the entire leadership team recognized the threat of COVID to our community, patients, staff, and business. A multidisciplinary task force including clinical and business leaders utilized our PE partner’s vast resources, local hospital expertise, national societal recommendations and colleagues’ experiences from around the country to focus on protocols and procedures to protect our patients and staff. A few of the team’s timely decisions included: closing the majority of our patient fronting services, transitioning to telehealth, hiring an infection control consultant, allowing physical distancing of our staff with off sight work, instituting symptomatic pathways, donating personal protective gear to local hospitals, covering all benefits as well as provided resources to obtain government benefits to furloughed team members, developing a provider wellness program, and encouraging hospital coverage considerations for high risk providers. I also know the team is focusing on how we re-open at the appropriate time with necessary safety considerations, like investigating testing options and ensuring appropriate PPE is in place. The collaboration between clinical and business leadership has been tremendous through this evolving and challenging period. As for UD physician partner compensation, our model is uniquely organized such that the MSO covers all overhead expenses with partners contributing a fixed percentage of a partner’s collections, while others typically share overhead expenses. During uncertain times, like the COVID-19 crisis, it is reassuring to partners to know that they are not responsible for the cost of infrastructure (i.e. leases, capital equipment, EHR system, consultants, etc.) and staffing, including current and new associates.”

With formation of United Digestive as an MSO, has your day-to-day work life changed or your clinical decision-making been impacted?

Dr. Aja McCutchen, UD Physician Executive Committee Member:

• “With the formation of UD, my daily work life has changed very little; however, with their focus on improving “back-office” functions, my schedule is now fully optimized by reducing gaps from cancellations with same-day/next-day scheduling. In addition, the patient experience has been enhanced with decreased wait times, easier appointment scheduling, and quicker access to support staff. The procurement of business intelligence tools, and, more importantly, the implementation of dashboards, has provided much needed visibility across the organization allowing managerial decisions to be driven by accurate data.

From a clinical decision-making standpoint, Atlanta Gastroenterology was already armed with strong clinical teams and committees. We have been able to build upon our pre-existing committees and optimize their ability to steward best practices and develop clinical pathways. This, in turn, translates to consistency across the organization in the delivery of evidence-based, comprehensive GI care.”
 

Kimberly Orleck, PA-C, Advanced Practice Provider (APP) Supervisor:

• “The formation of UD has not affected my clinical decision-making abilities. In fact, this new platform is dedicated to empowering and establishing APPs as independent clinicians with appropriate physician oversight. As a result, I have welcomed more administrative responsibilities and have become more involved in business meetings and decision making. We have worked together to better utilize APPs using data to match supply with demand.”

Physician compensation improvement is typically a key concern for physicians who work with private equity MSOs. How has United Digestive performed for its partner-level physicians in year one?

Dr. Marc Rosenberg:

• “The MSO has helped to improve physician income – slowly at first and now on a steeper trajectory. We have been ahead of expected income improvement based on models we reviewed when evaluating the formations of an MSO in potential partnership with Frazier Healthcare Partners. United Digestive’s EBIDTA, of which each partner-level physician owns a significant percentage through shares from rollover proceeds, has grown impressively in one year. This has been achieved mostly through significant organic growth and to a lesser degree through mergers and acquisitions. UD has helped to enhance the bottom line through increased reimbursements from payor negotiated contracts, new revenue-generating service lines, and operational efficiencies.”

Dr. Patel and Dr. Sonnenshine are with Atlanta Gastroenterology Associates in Atlanta, which is part of United Digestive. They have no conflicts.

*This story was updated on 6/1/2020.

The current standard frontline therapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, fallopian tube, and primary peritoneal cancer includes a combination of surgical cytoreduction and at least six cycles of platinum-based chemotherapy. While this achieves a complete clinical response (“remission”) in most, 85% of patients will recur and eventually succumb to the disease. This suggests that treatments are good at inducing remission, but poor at eradicating the disease altogether. This has motivated the consideration of maintenance therapy: extended treatment beyond completion of chemotherapy during the period of time when patients are clinically disease free.

Maintenance therapy is an appealing concept for clinicians who desperately want to “hold” their patients in a disease-free state for longer periods. It is also a profitable way to administer therapy as there is more compensation to the pharmaceutical industry from chronic, long-term drug administration rather than episodic treatment courses. However, the following question must be asked: Is this extended therapy worthwhile for all patients, and is it good value?

In the past 12 months, three major industry-sponsored clinical trials have been published (PRIMA, PAOLA-1, and VELIA)which suggest a benefit for all patients with advanced epithelial ovarian cancer in receiving prolonged poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor (PARPi) therapy after primary chemotherapy.^1-3 This has resulted in Food and Drug Administration approval for some of these agents as maintenance therapy. Despite differences in the drugs tested and the timing of therapy, these studies observed that treatment of advanced ovarian cancer with the addition of a PARPi during and/or after carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy for up to an additional 3 years resulted in a longer progression-free survival (PFS) of approximately 6 months. PFS is defined as the time to measurable recurrence or death. However, this positive effect was not equally distributed across the whole population; rather, it appeared to be created by a substantial response in a smaller subgroup.

PARP inhibitor therapies such as olaparib, niraparib, veliparib, and rucaparib target a family of enzymes that repair DNA and stabilize the human genome through the repair of single-stranded DNA breaks. Inhibiting these enzymes facilitates the accumulation of single-stranded breaks, allowing the development of double-strand breaks, which in turn cannot be repaired if the cell has deficient homologous recombination (HRD) such as through a germline or somatic BRCA mutation, or alternative relevant mutation that confers a similar effect. The opportunistic pairing of a drug interaction with a pathway specific to the cancer is an example of a targeted therapy.

In order to improve the value of cancer drug therapy, there has been emphasis by cooperative research groups, such as the Gynecologic Oncology Group, to study the efficacy of targeted therapies, such as PARPi, in patients identified by biomarkers such as tumors that possess germline or somatic HRD in whom they are most likely to work. This approach makes good common sense and promises to deliver a large magnitude of clinical benefit in a smaller focused population. Therefore, even if drug costs are high, the treatment may still have value. Consistent with that principle, the recently published VELIA, PRIMA, and PAOLA-1 trials all showed impressive benefit in PFS (on average 11-12 months) for the subgroup of patients with HRD. However, these studies were designed and funded by the pharmaceutical industry, and abandoned the principle of biomarker-driven targeted therapy. They did not limit their studies to the HRD-positive population most likely to benefit, but instead included and reported on the impact on all-comers (patients with both HRD and HR-proficient tumors). Subsequently their final conclusions could be extrapolated to the general population of ovarian cancer patients, and in doing so, a larger share of the marketplace.

Only 30% of the general population of ovarian, fallopian tube and primary peritoneal cancer patients carry a germline or somatic BRCA mutation and less than half carry this or alternative mutations which confer HRD. The remaining majority are HR-proficient tumors. However, the three study populations in the aforementioned trials were enriched for HRD tumors with 50%-60% subjects carrying germline or somatic HRD. Therefore, it is likely that the observed benefits in the “intent-to-treat” group were larger than what a clinician would observe in their patient population. Additionally, the large (11-12 month) gains in the HRD-positive group may have been so significant that they compensated for the subtle impact in the HR-proficient population (less than 3 months), resulting in an average total effect that, while being statistically significant for “all comers,” was actually only clinically significant for the HRD group. The positive impact for HRD tumors effectively boosted the results for the group as a whole.

The use of PFS as a primary endpoint raises another significant concern with the design of these PARPi maintenance trials. Much has been written about the importance of PFS as an endpoint for ovarian cancer because of confounding effects of subsequent therapy and to minimize the costs and duration of clinical trials.⁴ PFS is a quicker, less expensive endpoint to capture than overall survival. It usually correlates with overall survival, but typically only when there is a large magnitude of benefit in PFS. These arguments are fair when considering episodic drug therapies in the setting of measurable, active disease. However, maintenance therapy is given during a period of what patients think of as remission. Remission is valued by patients because it is a gateway to cure, and also because it is a time devoid of symptoms of disease, toxicity (therapeutic and financial), and the burden of frequent medical visits and interventions. While PFS is a measure of the length of remission, it is not a measure of cure. We should ask: What does it mean to a patient if she has a longer remission but needs to be on drug therapy (with its associated burdens and toxicities) in order to maintain that remission? We know that an increase in PFS with maintenance therapy does not always result in a commensurate increase in survival. One does not always precede the other. An example of this is the use of maintenance bevacizumab following upfront chemotherapy which improves PFS by 4 months, but is not associated with an increase in survival.⁵

When considering the value and ethics of maintenance therapy, it should be associated with a proven survival benefit or an improvement in quality of life. With respect to PARPi maintenance, we lack the data regarding the former, and have contrary evidence regarding the latter. In these three trials, PARPi maintenance was associated with significantly more toxicity than placebo including the commonly observed nausea and fatigue. Most of us would not like to be on a drug therapy for 3 years that made us feel nauseated or fatigued if it didn’t also increase our chance of cure or a longer life. While the significant PFS benefit of maintenance PARPi that is consistently observed in HRD-positive ovarian cancers suggests there will also likely be a clinically significant improvement in survival and cure in that specific subpopulation, this is less likely true for the majority of women with HR-proficient ovarian cancers. Time will tell this story, but as yet, we don’t know.

The use of maintenance PARPi therapy during and/or after primary cytotoxic chemotherapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, primary peritoneal, and fallopian tube cancer is associated with a substantial benefit in time to recurrence in a population with HRD tumors and a small benefit among the majority who don’t. However, it comes at the cost of toxicity at a time when patients would otherwise be free of disease and treatment. I propose that, until a survival benefit for all women has been observed, we should consider a targeted and biomarker-driven approach to maintenance PARPi prescription, favoring prescription for those with germline or somatic HRD mutations.

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email Dr. Rossi at [email protected].

References

1. González-Martín A et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2391-402.

2. Ray-Coquard I et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2416-28.

3. Coleman RL et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2403-15.

4. Herzog TJ et al. Gynecol Oncol. 2014 Jan;132(1):8-17.

5. Tewari KS et al. J Clin Oncol. 2019 Sep 10;37(26):2317-28.

The current standard frontline therapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, fallopian tube, and primary peritoneal cancer includes a combination of surgical cytoreduction and at least six cycles of platinum-based chemotherapy. While this achieves a complete clinical response (“remission”) in most, 85% of patients will recur and eventually succumb to the disease. This suggests that treatments are good at inducing remission, but poor at eradicating the disease altogether. This has motivated the consideration of maintenance therapy: extended treatment beyond completion of chemotherapy during the period of time when patients are clinically disease free.

Maintenance therapy is an appealing concept for clinicians who desperately want to “hold” their patients in a disease-free state for longer periods. It is also a profitable way to administer therapy as there is more compensation to the pharmaceutical industry from chronic, long-term drug administration rather than episodic treatment courses. However, the following question must be asked: Is this extended therapy worthwhile for all patients, and is it good value?

In the past 12 months, three major industry-sponsored clinical trials have been published (PRIMA, PAOLA-1, and VELIA)which suggest a benefit for all patients with advanced epithelial ovarian cancer in receiving prolonged poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor (PARPi) therapy after primary chemotherapy.^1-3 This has resulted in Food and Drug Administration approval for some of these agents as maintenance therapy. Despite differences in the drugs tested and the timing of therapy, these studies observed that treatment of advanced ovarian cancer with the addition of a PARPi during and/or after carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy for up to an additional 3 years resulted in a longer progression-free survival (PFS) of approximately 6 months. PFS is defined as the time to measurable recurrence or death. However, this positive effect was not equally distributed across the whole population; rather, it appeared to be created by a substantial response in a smaller subgroup.

PARP inhibitor therapies such as olaparib, niraparib, veliparib, and rucaparib target a family of enzymes that repair DNA and stabilize the human genome through the repair of single-stranded DNA breaks. Inhibiting these enzymes facilitates the accumulation of single-stranded breaks, allowing the development of double-strand breaks, which in turn cannot be repaired if the cell has deficient homologous recombination (HRD) such as through a germline or somatic BRCA mutation, or alternative relevant mutation that confers a similar effect. The opportunistic pairing of a drug interaction with a pathway specific to the cancer is an example of a targeted therapy.

In order to improve the value of cancer drug therapy, there has been emphasis by cooperative research groups, such as the Gynecologic Oncology Group, to study the efficacy of targeted therapies, such as PARPi, in patients identified by biomarkers such as tumors that possess germline or somatic HRD in whom they are most likely to work. This approach makes good common sense and promises to deliver a large magnitude of clinical benefit in a smaller focused population. Therefore, even if drug costs are high, the treatment may still have value. Consistent with that principle, the recently published VELIA, PRIMA, and PAOLA-1 trials all showed impressive benefit in PFS (on average 11-12 months) for the subgroup of patients with HRD. However, these studies were designed and funded by the pharmaceutical industry, and abandoned the principle of biomarker-driven targeted therapy. They did not limit their studies to the HRD-positive population most likely to benefit, but instead included and reported on the impact on all-comers (patients with both HRD and HR-proficient tumors). Subsequently their final conclusions could be extrapolated to the general population of ovarian cancer patients, and in doing so, a larger share of the marketplace.

Only 30% of the general population of ovarian, fallopian tube and primary peritoneal cancer patients carry a germline or somatic BRCA mutation and less than half carry this or alternative mutations which confer HRD. The remaining majority are HR-proficient tumors. However, the three study populations in the aforementioned trials were enriched for HRD tumors with 50%-60% subjects carrying germline or somatic HRD. Therefore, it is likely that the observed benefits in the “intent-to-treat” group were larger than what a clinician would observe in their patient population. Additionally, the large (11-12 month) gains in the HRD-positive group may have been so significant that they compensated for the subtle impact in the HR-proficient population (less than 3 months), resulting in an average total effect that, while being statistically significant for “all comers,” was actually only clinically significant for the HRD group. The positive impact for HRD tumors effectively boosted the results for the group as a whole.

The use of PFS as a primary endpoint raises another significant concern with the design of these PARPi maintenance trials. Much has been written about the importance of PFS as an endpoint for ovarian cancer because of confounding effects of subsequent therapy and to minimize the costs and duration of clinical trials.⁴ PFS is a quicker, less expensive endpoint to capture than overall survival. It usually correlates with overall survival, but typically only when there is a large magnitude of benefit in PFS. These arguments are fair when considering episodic drug therapies in the setting of measurable, active disease. However, maintenance therapy is given during a period of what patients think of as remission. Remission is valued by patients because it is a gateway to cure, and also because it is a time devoid of symptoms of disease, toxicity (therapeutic and financial), and the burden of frequent medical visits and interventions. While PFS is a measure of the length of remission, it is not a measure of cure. We should ask: What does it mean to a patient if she has a longer remission but needs to be on drug therapy (with its associated burdens and toxicities) in order to maintain that remission? We know that an increase in PFS with maintenance therapy does not always result in a commensurate increase in survival. One does not always precede the other. An example of this is the use of maintenance bevacizumab following upfront chemotherapy which improves PFS by 4 months, but is not associated with an increase in survival.⁵

When considering the value and ethics of maintenance therapy, it should be associated with a proven survival benefit or an improvement in quality of life. With respect to PARPi maintenance, we lack the data regarding the former, and have contrary evidence regarding the latter. In these three trials, PARPi maintenance was associated with significantly more toxicity than placebo including the commonly observed nausea and fatigue. Most of us would not like to be on a drug therapy for 3 years that made us feel nauseated or fatigued if it didn’t also increase our chance of cure or a longer life. While the significant PFS benefit of maintenance PARPi that is consistently observed in HRD-positive ovarian cancers suggests there will also likely be a clinically significant improvement in survival and cure in that specific subpopulation, this is less likely true for the majority of women with HR-proficient ovarian cancers. Time will tell this story, but as yet, we don’t know.

The use of maintenance PARPi therapy during and/or after primary cytotoxic chemotherapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, primary peritoneal, and fallopian tube cancer is associated with a substantial benefit in time to recurrence in a population with HRD tumors and a small benefit among the majority who don’t. However, it comes at the cost of toxicity at a time when patients would otherwise be free of disease and treatment. I propose that, until a survival benefit for all women has been observed, we should consider a targeted and biomarker-driven approach to maintenance PARPi prescription, favoring prescription for those with germline or somatic HRD mutations.

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email Dr. Rossi at [email protected].

References

1. González-Martín A et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2391-402.

2. Ray-Coquard I et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2416-28.

3. Coleman RL et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2403-15.

4. Herzog TJ et al. Gynecol Oncol. 2014 Jan;132(1):8-17.

5. Tewari KS et al. J Clin Oncol. 2019 Sep 10;37(26):2317-28.

The current standard frontline therapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, fallopian tube, and primary peritoneal cancer includes a combination of surgical cytoreduction and at least six cycles of platinum-based chemotherapy. While this achieves a complete clinical response (“remission”) in most, 85% of patients will recur and eventually succumb to the disease. This suggests that treatments are good at inducing remission, but poor at eradicating the disease altogether. This has motivated the consideration of maintenance therapy: extended treatment beyond completion of chemotherapy during the period of time when patients are clinically disease free.

Maintenance therapy is an appealing concept for clinicians who desperately want to “hold” their patients in a disease-free state for longer periods. It is also a profitable way to administer therapy as there is more compensation to the pharmaceutical industry from chronic, long-term drug administration rather than episodic treatment courses. However, the following question must be asked: Is this extended therapy worthwhile for all patients, and is it good value?

In the past 12 months, three major industry-sponsored clinical trials have been published (PRIMA, PAOLA-1, and VELIA)which suggest a benefit for all patients with advanced epithelial ovarian cancer in receiving prolonged poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor (PARPi) therapy after primary chemotherapy.^1-3 This has resulted in Food and Drug Administration approval for some of these agents as maintenance therapy. Despite differences in the drugs tested and the timing of therapy, these studies observed that treatment of advanced ovarian cancer with the addition of a PARPi during and/or after carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy for up to an additional 3 years resulted in a longer progression-free survival (PFS) of approximately 6 months. PFS is defined as the time to measurable recurrence or death. However, this positive effect was not equally distributed across the whole population; rather, it appeared to be created by a substantial response in a smaller subgroup.

PARP inhibitor therapies such as olaparib, niraparib, veliparib, and rucaparib target a family of enzymes that repair DNA and stabilize the human genome through the repair of single-stranded DNA breaks. Inhibiting these enzymes facilitates the accumulation of single-stranded breaks, allowing the development of double-strand breaks, which in turn cannot be repaired if the cell has deficient homologous recombination (HRD) such as through a germline or somatic BRCA mutation, or alternative relevant mutation that confers a similar effect. The opportunistic pairing of a drug interaction with a pathway specific to the cancer is an example of a targeted therapy.

In order to improve the value of cancer drug therapy, there has been emphasis by cooperative research groups, such as the Gynecologic Oncology Group, to study the efficacy of targeted therapies, such as PARPi, in patients identified by biomarkers such as tumors that possess germline or somatic HRD in whom they are most likely to work. This approach makes good common sense and promises to deliver a large magnitude of clinical benefit in a smaller focused population. Therefore, even if drug costs are high, the treatment may still have value. Consistent with that principle, the recently published VELIA, PRIMA, and PAOLA-1 trials all showed impressive benefit in PFS (on average 11-12 months) for the subgroup of patients with HRD. However, these studies were designed and funded by the pharmaceutical industry, and abandoned the principle of biomarker-driven targeted therapy. They did not limit their studies to the HRD-positive population most likely to benefit, but instead included and reported on the impact on all-comers (patients with both HRD and HR-proficient tumors). Subsequently their final conclusions could be extrapolated to the general population of ovarian cancer patients, and in doing so, a larger share of the marketplace.

Only 30% of the general population of ovarian, fallopian tube and primary peritoneal cancer patients carry a germline or somatic BRCA mutation and less than half carry this or alternative mutations which confer HRD. The remaining majority are HR-proficient tumors. However, the three study populations in the aforementioned trials were enriched for HRD tumors with 50%-60% subjects carrying germline or somatic HRD. Therefore, it is likely that the observed benefits in the “intent-to-treat” group were larger than what a clinician would observe in their patient population. Additionally, the large (11-12 month) gains in the HRD-positive group may have been so significant that they compensated for the subtle impact in the HR-proficient population (less than 3 months), resulting in an average total effect that, while being statistically significant for “all comers,” was actually only clinically significant for the HRD group. The positive impact for HRD tumors effectively boosted the results for the group as a whole.

The use of PFS as a primary endpoint raises another significant concern with the design of these PARPi maintenance trials. Much has been written about the importance of PFS as an endpoint for ovarian cancer because of confounding effects of subsequent therapy and to minimize the costs and duration of clinical trials.⁴ PFS is a quicker, less expensive endpoint to capture than overall survival. It usually correlates with overall survival, but typically only when there is a large magnitude of benefit in PFS. These arguments are fair when considering episodic drug therapies in the setting of measurable, active disease. However, maintenance therapy is given during a period of what patients think of as remission. Remission is valued by patients because it is a gateway to cure, and also because it is a time devoid of symptoms of disease, toxicity (therapeutic and financial), and the burden of frequent medical visits and interventions. While PFS is a measure of the length of remission, it is not a measure of cure. We should ask: What does it mean to a patient if she has a longer remission but needs to be on drug therapy (with its associated burdens and toxicities) in order to maintain that remission? We know that an increase in PFS with maintenance therapy does not always result in a commensurate increase in survival. One does not always precede the other. An example of this is the use of maintenance bevacizumab following upfront chemotherapy which improves PFS by 4 months, but is not associated with an increase in survival.⁵

When considering the value and ethics of maintenance therapy, it should be associated with a proven survival benefit or an improvement in quality of life. With respect to PARPi maintenance, we lack the data regarding the former, and have contrary evidence regarding the latter. In these three trials, PARPi maintenance was associated with significantly more toxicity than placebo including the commonly observed nausea and fatigue. Most of us would not like to be on a drug therapy for 3 years that made us feel nauseated or fatigued if it didn’t also increase our chance of cure or a longer life. While the significant PFS benefit of maintenance PARPi that is consistently observed in HRD-positive ovarian cancers suggests there will also likely be a clinically significant improvement in survival and cure in that specific subpopulation, this is less likely true for the majority of women with HR-proficient ovarian cancers. Time will tell this story, but as yet, we don’t know.

The use of maintenance PARPi therapy during and/or after primary cytotoxic chemotherapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, primary peritoneal, and fallopian tube cancer is associated with a substantial benefit in time to recurrence in a population with HRD tumors and a small benefit among the majority who don’t. However, it comes at the cost of toxicity at a time when patients would otherwise be free of disease and treatment. I propose that, until a survival benefit for all women has been observed, we should consider a targeted and biomarker-driven approach to maintenance PARPi prescription, favoring prescription for those with germline or somatic HRD mutations.

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email Dr. Rossi at [email protected].

References

1. González-Martín A et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2391-402.

2. Ray-Coquard I et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2416-28.

3. Coleman RL et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2403-15.

4. Herzog TJ et al. Gynecol Oncol. 2014 Jan;132(1):8-17.

5. Tewari KS et al. J Clin Oncol. 2019 Sep 10;37(26):2317-28.

Clinicians and pregnant women are less likely to prescribe and undergo the oral glucose tolerance test (OGTT) to diagnose gestational diabetes in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, according to a review by H. David McIntyre, MD, of the University of Queensland, Brisbane, Australia, and Robert G. Moses, MD, of Wollongong (Australia) Hospital.

National and international discussions of whether a one- or two-step test for gestational diabetes mellitus (GDM) is optimal, and which women should be tested are ongoing, but the potential for exposure risks to COVID-19 are impacting the test process, they wrote in a commentary published in Diabetes Care.

“Any national or local guidelines should be developed with the primary aim of being protective for pregnant women and workable in the current health crisis,” they wrote.

Key concerns expressed by women and health care providers include the need for travel to be tested, the possible need for two visits, and the several hours spent in a potentially high-risk specimen collection center.

“Further, a GDM diagnosis generally involves additional health service visits for diabetes education, glucose monitoring review, and fetal ultrasonography, all of which carry exposure risks during a pandemic,” Dr. McIntyre and Dr. Moses noted.

Professional societies in the United Kingdom, Canada, and Australia have issued guidance to clinicians for modifying GDM diagnoses criteria during the pandemic that aim to reduce the need for the oral glucose tolerance test both during and after pregnancy.

Pandemic guidelines for all three of these countries support the identification of GDM using early pregnancy hemoglobin A_1c (HbA_1c) of at least 41 mmol/mol (5.9%).

Then, professionals in the United Kingdom recommend testing based on risk factors and diagnosing GDM based on any of these criteria: HbA_1c of at least 39 mmol/mol (5.7%), fasting venous plasma glucose of at least 5.6 mmol/L (preferred), or random VPG of at least 9.0 mmol/L.

The revised testing pathway for Canada accepts an HbA_1c of at least 39 mmol/mol (5.7%) and/or random VPG of at least 11.1 mmol/L.

“The revised Australian pathway does not include HbA_1c but recommends a fasting VPG with progression to OGTT only if this result is 4.7-5.0 mmol/L,” Dr. McIntyre and Dr. Moses explained.

Overall, the revised guidelines for GDM testing will likely miss some women and only identify those with higher levels of hyperglycemia, the authors wrote. In addition, “the evidence base for these revised pathways is limited and that each alternative strategy should be evaluated over the course of the current pandemic.”

Validation of new testing strategies are needed, and the pandemic may provide and opportunity to adopt an alternative to the OGTT. The World Health Organization has not issued revised guidance for other methods of testing, but fasting VPG alone may be the simplest and most cost effective, at least for the short term, they noted.

“In this ‘new COVID world,’ GDM should not be ignored but pragmatically merits a lower priority than the avoidance of exposure to the COVID-19 virus,” although no single alternative strategy applies in all countries and situations, the authors concluded. Pragmatic measures and documentation of outcomes at the local level will offer the “least worst” solution while the pandemic continues.

The authors had no relevant financial disclosures.

SOURCE: McIntyre HD, Moses RG. Diabetes Care. 2020 May. doi: 10.2337/dci20-0026.

Clinicians and pregnant women are less likely to prescribe and undergo the oral glucose tolerance test (OGTT) to diagnose gestational diabetes in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, according to a review by H. David McIntyre, MD, of the University of Queensland, Brisbane, Australia, and Robert G. Moses, MD, of Wollongong (Australia) Hospital.

National and international discussions of whether a one- or two-step test for gestational diabetes mellitus (GDM) is optimal, and which women should be tested are ongoing, but the potential for exposure risks to COVID-19 are impacting the test process, they wrote in a commentary published in Diabetes Care.

“Any national or local guidelines should be developed with the primary aim of being protective for pregnant women and workable in the current health crisis,” they wrote.

Key concerns expressed by women and health care providers include the need for travel to be tested, the possible need for two visits, and the several hours spent in a potentially high-risk specimen collection center.

“Further, a GDM diagnosis generally involves additional health service visits for diabetes education, glucose monitoring review, and fetal ultrasonography, all of which carry exposure risks during a pandemic,” Dr. McIntyre and Dr. Moses noted.

Professional societies in the United Kingdom, Canada, and Australia have issued guidance to clinicians for modifying GDM diagnoses criteria during the pandemic that aim to reduce the need for the oral glucose tolerance test both during and after pregnancy.

Pandemic guidelines for all three of these countries support the identification of GDM using early pregnancy hemoglobin A_1c (HbA_1c) of at least 41 mmol/mol (5.9%).

Then, professionals in the United Kingdom recommend testing based on risk factors and diagnosing GDM based on any of these criteria: HbA_1c of at least 39 mmol/mol (5.7%), fasting venous plasma glucose of at least 5.6 mmol/L (preferred), or random VPG of at least 9.0 mmol/L.

The revised testing pathway for Canada accepts an HbA_1c of at least 39 mmol/mol (5.7%) and/or random VPG of at least 11.1 mmol/L.

“The revised Australian pathway does not include HbA_1c but recommends a fasting VPG with progression to OGTT only if this result is 4.7-5.0 mmol/L,” Dr. McIntyre and Dr. Moses explained.

Overall, the revised guidelines for GDM testing will likely miss some women and only identify those with higher levels of hyperglycemia, the authors wrote. In addition, “the evidence base for these revised pathways is limited and that each alternative strategy should be evaluated over the course of the current pandemic.”

Validation of new testing strategies are needed, and the pandemic may provide and opportunity to adopt an alternative to the OGTT. The World Health Organization has not issued revised guidance for other methods of testing, but fasting VPG alone may be the simplest and most cost effective, at least for the short term, they noted.

“In this ‘new COVID world,’ GDM should not be ignored but pragmatically merits a lower priority than the avoidance of exposure to the COVID-19 virus,” although no single alternative strategy applies in all countries and situations, the authors concluded. Pragmatic measures and documentation of outcomes at the local level will offer the “least worst” solution while the pandemic continues.

The authors had no relevant financial disclosures.

SOURCE: McIntyre HD, Moses RG. Diabetes Care. 2020 May. doi: 10.2337/dci20-0026.

Clinicians and pregnant women are less likely to prescribe and undergo the oral glucose tolerance test (OGTT) to diagnose gestational diabetes in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, according to a review by H. David McIntyre, MD, of the University of Queensland, Brisbane, Australia, and Robert G. Moses, MD, of Wollongong (Australia) Hospital.

National and international discussions of whether a one- or two-step test for gestational diabetes mellitus (GDM) is optimal, and which women should be tested are ongoing, but the potential for exposure risks to COVID-19 are impacting the test process, they wrote in a commentary published in Diabetes Care.

“Any national or local guidelines should be developed with the primary aim of being protective for pregnant women and workable in the current health crisis,” they wrote.

Key concerns expressed by women and health care providers include the need for travel to be tested, the possible need for two visits, and the several hours spent in a potentially high-risk specimen collection center.

“Further, a GDM diagnosis generally involves additional health service visits for diabetes education, glucose monitoring review, and fetal ultrasonography, all of which carry exposure risks during a pandemic,” Dr. McIntyre and Dr. Moses noted.

Professional societies in the United Kingdom, Canada, and Australia have issued guidance to clinicians for modifying GDM diagnoses criteria during the pandemic that aim to reduce the need for the oral glucose tolerance test both during and after pregnancy.

Pandemic guidelines for all three of these countries support the identification of GDM using early pregnancy hemoglobin A_1c (HbA_1c) of at least 41 mmol/mol (5.9%).

Then, professionals in the United Kingdom recommend testing based on risk factors and diagnosing GDM based on any of these criteria: HbA_1c of at least 39 mmol/mol (5.7%), fasting venous plasma glucose of at least 5.6 mmol/L (preferred), or random VPG of at least 9.0 mmol/L.

The revised testing pathway for Canada accepts an HbA_1c of at least 39 mmol/mol (5.7%) and/or random VPG of at least 11.1 mmol/L.

“The revised Australian pathway does not include HbA_1c but recommends a fasting VPG with progression to OGTT only if this result is 4.7-5.0 mmol/L,” Dr. McIntyre and Dr. Moses explained.

Overall, the revised guidelines for GDM testing will likely miss some women and only identify those with higher levels of hyperglycemia, the authors wrote. In addition, “the evidence base for these revised pathways is limited and that each alternative strategy should be evaluated over the course of the current pandemic.”

Validation of new testing strategies are needed, and the pandemic may provide and opportunity to adopt an alternative to the OGTT. The World Health Organization has not issued revised guidance for other methods of testing, but fasting VPG alone may be the simplest and most cost effective, at least for the short term, they noted.

“In this ‘new COVID world,’ GDM should not be ignored but pragmatically merits a lower priority than the avoidance of exposure to the COVID-19 virus,” although no single alternative strategy applies in all countries and situations, the authors concluded. Pragmatic measures and documentation of outcomes at the local level will offer the “least worst” solution while the pandemic continues.

The authors had no relevant financial disclosures.

SOURCE: McIntyre HD, Moses RG. Diabetes Care. 2020 May. doi: 10.2337/dci20-0026.

As an addiction psychiatrist specializing in the use of ketamine-assisted psychotherapy, both in patients with mood disorders and substance use disorders, I would like to offer some perspective about limits and possibilities of ketamine and esketamine.

Single infusions of ketamine targeting unipolar mood symptoms indeed yield initial 24-hour response rates of about 60%-70%, though those rates fall precipitously with time.¹ Where single treatments fall short in terms of durability of benefit, a series of multiple treatments – modeled around electroconvulsive therapy and pending a noninferiority study to compare the two² – provide for more robust and durable results.³

Esketamine nasal spray, recently approved by the Food and Drug Administration for treatment-resistant major depressive disorder, consists of one of the component stereoisomers of ketamine and is administered at first twice weekly and then less frequently with time. It now, like off-label ketamine,⁴ sees clinical use as monotherapy for MDD, as an alternative for patients who have intolerance or lack of response to first-line treatments such as SSRIs.

Ketamine, while perhaps less directly validated and more stigmatized for psychiatric use, recently has been demonstrated in a rigorous trial as noninferior in terms of antidepressant benefit at 24 hours,⁵ and a multitude of published case studies document maintenance of benefit with repeat doses over a period of months.⁶ Ketamine notably enjoys several advantages over esketamine as a treatment option: a cost one to two orders of magnitude lower⁷ (esketamine nasal spray sees a wholesale price of $600-$900 per dose), greater versatility in dose, and lack of a restrictive REMS program.⁸ The $1-$2 cost of a dose of ketamine means that the clinical barrier of prior authorizations is largely a nonissue and may in and of itself vastly improve access to this novel and efficacious treatment.

My clinical experience involves providing ketamine as an intramuscular bolus along with contemporaneous psychotherapy; such combination of medication and psychotherapy intervention may be more effective than ketamine alone⁹ and has seen impressive initial results in the treatment of alcohol use disorder, termed ketamine psychedelic therapy.¹⁰ I can affirm these hopeful initial findings in the treatment of both mood and substance use disorders, and have observed maintained response from mood symptoms for a period of 1-4 years in several patients, with such sessions provided approximately monthly.¹¹

I hope these preliminary data inform more rigorous study of long-term ketamine as a treatment for psychiatric indications.

Dr. Ryan is a board-certified psychiatrist and addiction psychiatrist who practices in Los Angeles. He has written several articles and a book chapter on ketamine. Dr. Ryan has no disclosures.

References

1. Murrough JW et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2013;170(10):1134-42.

2. Mathew SJ et al. Contemp Clin Trials. 2019;77:19-26.

3. Singh JB et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2016;173(8):816-26.

4. Calabrese L. Int J Psychiatr Res. 2019; 2(5):1-12.

5. Correia-Melo FS et al. J Affect Disord. 2020;264:527-34.

6. Ryan WC, Marta CJ, Koek RJ. Ketamine and depression, in “The Ketamine Papers: Science, Therapy, and Transformation.” Santa Cruz, Calif.: Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, 2016.

7. Institute for Clinical and Economic Review. “Esketamine for the Treatment of Treatment-Resistant Depression: Effectiveness and Value.” Final report. 2019 Jun 20.

8. Spravato package insert. Titusville, N.J.: Janssen Pharmaceuticals.

9. Dore J et al. J Psychoactive Drugs. 2019;51(2):189-98.

10. Krupitsky EM and Grinenko AY. J Psychoactive Drugs. 1997;29(2):165-83.

11. Ryan WC. Ketamine-assisted psychotherapy: Theory and chart review. KRIYA Ketamine Research Institute Conference. Hillsborough, Calif. 2019. Nov 9.

As an addiction psychiatrist specializing in the use of ketamine-assisted psychotherapy, both in patients with mood disorders and substance use disorders, I would like to offer some perspective about limits and possibilities of ketamine and esketamine.

Single infusions of ketamine targeting unipolar mood symptoms indeed yield initial 24-hour response rates of about 60%-70%, though those rates fall precipitously with time.¹ Where single treatments fall short in terms of durability of benefit, a series of multiple treatments – modeled around electroconvulsive therapy and pending a noninferiority study to compare the two² – provide for more robust and durable results.³

Esketamine nasal spray, recently approved by the Food and Drug Administration for treatment-resistant major depressive disorder, consists of one of the component stereoisomers of ketamine and is administered at first twice weekly and then less frequently with time. It now, like off-label ketamine,⁴ sees clinical use as monotherapy for MDD, as an alternative for patients who have intolerance or lack of response to first-line treatments such as SSRIs.

Ketamine, while perhaps less directly validated and more stigmatized for psychiatric use, recently has been demonstrated in a rigorous trial as noninferior in terms of antidepressant benefit at 24 hours,⁵ and a multitude of published case studies document maintenance of benefit with repeat doses over a period of months.⁶ Ketamine notably enjoys several advantages over esketamine as a treatment option: a cost one to two orders of magnitude lower⁷ (esketamine nasal spray sees a wholesale price of $600-$900 per dose), greater versatility in dose, and lack of a restrictive REMS program.⁸ The $1-$2 cost of a dose of ketamine means that the clinical barrier of prior authorizations is largely a nonissue and may in and of itself vastly improve access to this novel and efficacious treatment.

My clinical experience involves providing ketamine as an intramuscular bolus along with contemporaneous psychotherapy; such combination of medication and psychotherapy intervention may be more effective than ketamine alone⁹ and has seen impressive initial results in the treatment of alcohol use disorder, termed ketamine psychedelic therapy.¹⁰ I can affirm these hopeful initial findings in the treatment of both mood and substance use disorders, and have observed maintained response from mood symptoms for a period of 1-4 years in several patients, with such sessions provided approximately monthly.¹¹

I hope these preliminary data inform more rigorous study of long-term ketamine as a treatment for psychiatric indications.

Dr. Ryan is a board-certified psychiatrist and addiction psychiatrist who practices in Los Angeles. He has written several articles and a book chapter on ketamine. Dr. Ryan has no disclosures.

References

1. Murrough JW et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2013;170(10):1134-42.

2. Mathew SJ et al. Contemp Clin Trials. 2019;77:19-26.

3. Singh JB et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2016;173(8):816-26.

4. Calabrese L. Int J Psychiatr Res. 2019; 2(5):1-12.

5. Correia-Melo FS et al. J Affect Disord. 2020;264:527-34.

6. Ryan WC, Marta CJ, Koek RJ. Ketamine and depression, in “The Ketamine Papers: Science, Therapy, and Transformation.” Santa Cruz, Calif.: Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, 2016.

7. Institute for Clinical and Economic Review. “Esketamine for the Treatment of Treatment-Resistant Depression: Effectiveness and Value.” Final report. 2019 Jun 20.

8. Spravato package insert. Titusville, N.J.: Janssen Pharmaceuticals.

9. Dore J et al. J Psychoactive Drugs. 2019;51(2):189-98.

10. Krupitsky EM and Grinenko AY. J Psychoactive Drugs. 1997;29(2):165-83.

11. Ryan WC. Ketamine-assisted psychotherapy: Theory and chart review. KRIYA Ketamine Research Institute Conference. Hillsborough, Calif. 2019. Nov 9.

As an addiction psychiatrist specializing in the use of ketamine-assisted psychotherapy, both in patients with mood disorders and substance use disorders, I would like to offer some perspective about limits and possibilities of ketamine and esketamine.

Single infusions of ketamine targeting unipolar mood symptoms indeed yield initial 24-hour response rates of about 60%-70%, though those rates fall precipitously with time.¹ Where single treatments fall short in terms of durability of benefit, a series of multiple treatments – modeled around electroconvulsive therapy and pending a noninferiority study to compare the two² – provide for more robust and durable results.³

Esketamine nasal spray, recently approved by the Food and Drug Administration for treatment-resistant major depressive disorder, consists of one of the component stereoisomers of ketamine and is administered at first twice weekly and then less frequently with time. It now, like off-label ketamine,⁴ sees clinical use as monotherapy for MDD, as an alternative for patients who have intolerance or lack of response to first-line treatments such as SSRIs.

Ketamine, while perhaps less directly validated and more stigmatized for psychiatric use, recently has been demonstrated in a rigorous trial as noninferior in terms of antidepressant benefit at 24 hours,⁵ and a multitude of published case studies document maintenance of benefit with repeat doses over a period of months.⁶ Ketamine notably enjoys several advantages over esketamine as a treatment option: a cost one to two orders of magnitude lower⁷ (esketamine nasal spray sees a wholesale price of $600-$900 per dose), greater versatility in dose, and lack of a restrictive REMS program.⁸ The $1-$2 cost of a dose of ketamine means that the clinical barrier of prior authorizations is largely a nonissue and may in and of itself vastly improve access to this novel and efficacious treatment.

My clinical experience involves providing ketamine as an intramuscular bolus along with contemporaneous psychotherapy; such combination of medication and psychotherapy intervention may be more effective than ketamine alone⁹ and has seen impressive initial results in the treatment of alcohol use disorder, termed ketamine psychedelic therapy.¹⁰ I can affirm these hopeful initial findings in the treatment of both mood and substance use disorders, and have observed maintained response from mood symptoms for a period of 1-4 years in several patients, with such sessions provided approximately monthly.¹¹

I hope these preliminary data inform more rigorous study of long-term ketamine as a treatment for psychiatric indications.

Dr. Ryan is a board-certified psychiatrist and addiction psychiatrist who practices in Los Angeles. He has written several articles and a book chapter on ketamine. Dr. Ryan has no disclosures.

References

1. Murrough JW et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2013;170(10):1134-42.

2. Mathew SJ et al. Contemp Clin Trials. 2019;77:19-26.

3. Singh JB et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2016;173(8):816-26.

4. Calabrese L. Int J Psychiatr Res. 2019; 2(5):1-12.

5. Correia-Melo FS et al. J Affect Disord. 2020;264:527-34.

6. Ryan WC, Marta CJ, Koek RJ. Ketamine and depression, in “The Ketamine Papers: Science, Therapy, and Transformation.” Santa Cruz, Calif.: Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, 2016.

7. Institute for Clinical and Economic Review. “Esketamine for the Treatment of Treatment-Resistant Depression: Effectiveness and Value.” Final report. 2019 Jun 20.

8. Spravato package insert. Titusville, N.J.: Janssen Pharmaceuticals.

9. Dore J et al. J Psychoactive Drugs. 2019;51(2):189-98.

10. Krupitsky EM and Grinenko AY. J Psychoactive Drugs. 1997;29(2):165-83.

11. Ryan WC. Ketamine-assisted psychotherapy: Theory and chart review. KRIYA Ketamine Research Institute Conference. Hillsborough, Calif. 2019. Nov 9.

I am SO done with telemedicine.

In mid-March, as quarantine restrictions began, I embraced it. I frantically learned which insurances would and wouldn’t allow it, what billing codes had to be used (which varied wildly between plans), and what communication systems were and weren’t allowed.

For most of us it was a way to continue caring for patients and at least keep a trickle of revenue coming in. We could still go over test results face to face, see how a treatment plan was working, and check in with established patients before sending in refills. It seemed like a great solution. For the first 2-3 weeks I was thinking this was the way to go even after the pandemic calmed down.

Then it became increasingly problematic. New patients wanted to be seen remotely. No, I wasn’t doing that. It upset some, but I didn’t care. A neurologic exam is still a critical part of me assessing someone for the first time.

The next problem that came up was in routine check-ins with established patients. Headaches had recently gotten worse, but now I couldn’t do a fundoscopic exam. A stable seizure patient mentioned he’d had a month of worsening lumbar pain and right-leg weakness, but I can’t really check strength, reflexes, or sensation remotely. A lady I saw last year for a diabetic neuropathy is now being referred back to me for possible Parkinson’s disease. While hypomimia or shuffling gait can be seen on camera, you can’t check for rigidity and cogwheeling that way.

So my use of telemedicine has begun to decrease, and as the pandemic fades will hopefully stop entirely. Currently I’m only using it for recently seen patients to review test results or for established patients doing routine check-ins for stable issues. My secretary asks if they have any new issues to discuss with me when she sets up the appointment, and if they say yes she tells them it has to be in person.

This isn’t, as some will claim, a matter of my trying to increase revenue. It’s about practicing good medicine.

Neurology is a contact sport. We spend years learning to recognize minutiae from the moment we first see a patient. The way they speak, and walk, and move. The details of the exam. These are not, for the most part, things you can do with a camera. Other specialties may be less exam dependent, but not mine, and definitely not me. I’d be practicing substandard care if I did otherwise.

Not only that, but it becomes a liability issue. In a legal action you won’t get a pass if you miss something via remote appointment because it was a pandemic. The daily practice of medicine is full of minefields as it is. I don’t want to add another one.

When things return to normal – whatever the new normal is – I’m hoping to put my webcam away for good. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but in reality is only useful in a handful of cases. For all others, my patients deserve better neurologic care than it lets me provide.

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

I am SO done with telemedicine.

In mid-March, as quarantine restrictions began, I embraced it. I frantically learned which insurances would and wouldn’t allow it, what billing codes had to be used (which varied wildly between plans), and what communication systems were and weren’t allowed.

For most of us it was a way to continue caring for patients and at least keep a trickle of revenue coming in. We could still go over test results face to face, see how a treatment plan was working, and check in with established patients before sending in refills. It seemed like a great solution. For the first 2-3 weeks I was thinking this was the way to go even after the pandemic calmed down.

Then it became increasingly problematic. New patients wanted to be seen remotely. No, I wasn’t doing that. It upset some, but I didn’t care. A neurologic exam is still a critical part of me assessing someone for the first time.

The next problem that came up was in routine check-ins with established patients. Headaches had recently gotten worse, but now I couldn’t do a fundoscopic exam. A stable seizure patient mentioned he’d had a month of worsening lumbar pain and right-leg weakness, but I can’t really check strength, reflexes, or sensation remotely. A lady I saw last year for a diabetic neuropathy is now being referred back to me for possible Parkinson’s disease. While hypomimia or shuffling gait can be seen on camera, you can’t check for rigidity and cogwheeling that way.

So my use of telemedicine has begun to decrease, and as the pandemic fades will hopefully stop entirely. Currently I’m only using it for recently seen patients to review test results or for established patients doing routine check-ins for stable issues. My secretary asks if they have any new issues to discuss with me when she sets up the appointment, and if they say yes she tells them it has to be in person.

This isn’t, as some will claim, a matter of my trying to increase revenue. It’s about practicing good medicine.

Neurology is a contact sport. We spend years learning to recognize minutiae from the moment we first see a patient. The way they speak, and walk, and move. The details of the exam. These are not, for the most part, things you can do with a camera. Other specialties may be less exam dependent, but not mine, and definitely not me. I’d be practicing substandard care if I did otherwise.

Not only that, but it becomes a liability issue. In a legal action you won’t get a pass if you miss something via remote appointment because it was a pandemic. The daily practice of medicine is full of minefields as it is. I don’t want to add another one.

When things return to normal – whatever the new normal is – I’m hoping to put my webcam away for good. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but in reality is only useful in a handful of cases. For all others, my patients deserve better neurologic care than it lets me provide.

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

I am SO done with telemedicine.

In mid-March, as quarantine restrictions began, I embraced it. I frantically learned which insurances would and wouldn’t allow it, what billing codes had to be used (which varied wildly between plans), and what communication systems were and weren’t allowed.

For most of us it was a way to continue caring for patients and at least keep a trickle of revenue coming in. We could still go over test results face to face, see how a treatment plan was working, and check in with established patients before sending in refills. It seemed like a great solution. For the first 2-3 weeks I was thinking this was the way to go even after the pandemic calmed down.

Then it became increasingly problematic. New patients wanted to be seen remotely. No, I wasn’t doing that. It upset some, but I didn’t care. A neurologic exam is still a critical part of me assessing someone for the first time.

The next problem that came up was in routine check-ins with established patients. Headaches had recently gotten worse, but now I couldn’t do a fundoscopic exam. A stable seizure patient mentioned he’d had a month of worsening lumbar pain and right-leg weakness, but I can’t really check strength, reflexes, or sensation remotely. A lady I saw last year for a diabetic neuropathy is now being referred back to me for possible Parkinson’s disease. While hypomimia or shuffling gait can be seen on camera, you can’t check for rigidity and cogwheeling that way.

So my use of telemedicine has begun to decrease, and as the pandemic fades will hopefully stop entirely. Currently I’m only using it for recently seen patients to review test results or for established patients doing routine check-ins for stable issues. My secretary asks if they have any new issues to discuss with me when she sets up the appointment, and if they say yes she tells them it has to be in person.

This isn’t, as some will claim, a matter of my trying to increase revenue. It’s about practicing good medicine.

Neurology is a contact sport. We spend years learning to recognize minutiae from the moment we first see a patient. The way they speak, and walk, and move. The details of the exam. These are not, for the most part, things you can do with a camera. Other specialties may be less exam dependent, but not mine, and definitely not me. I’d be practicing substandard care if I did otherwise.

Not only that, but it becomes a liability issue. In a legal action you won’t get a pass if you miss something via remote appointment because it was a pandemic. The daily practice of medicine is full of minefields as it is. I don’t want to add another one.

When things return to normal – whatever the new normal is – I’m hoping to put my webcam away for good. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but in reality is only useful in a handful of cases. For all others, my patients deserve better neurologic care than it lets me provide.

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

In December 1917, a large part of Halifax was destroyed when an ammunition ship exploded.

In the wake of the explosion large parts of the city were burning. Surrounding communities’ fire departments raced to the scene, only to find their efforts thwarted by a lack of uniform standards for hydrant-hose-nozzle connectors. With no way to tap into Halifax’s water supply, their hoses were worthless.

In the aftermath of WWI, this led to a standardization of fire hose connectors across multiple countries, to ensure it wouldn’t happen again. Sometimes it takes a disaster to bring such problems to the forefront so they can be fixed.

One issue that has come up repeatedly in talking to other physicians is the complete lack of uniformity in telemedicine billing codes. While not a new issue, the coronavirus pandemic has brought it into focus here, and it’s time to fix it.

Here’s an example of information I’ve found about telemedicine billing codes (Note: I have no idea if any of this is correct, so don’t rely on it in your own billing).

• Aetna: Point of service 02
• Cigna: Point of service 02 with modifier 95.
• BCBS Anthem Point of Service 02 with modifier GT.
• Medicare: Point of service 02 OR Point of service 11 with modifier 95 (I’ve seen conflicting reports).

And that’s just a sample. BCBS, for example, seems to vary by state and sub-network.

This is ridiculous. Even with different plans, the CPT and ICD10 codes are standardized, so why not things such as POS codes and modifiers? The only ones benefiting from this are insurance companies, who get to deny claims on grounds that they weren’t billed correctly.

This is, allegedly, the Internet age. Medical bills are submitted electronically, and often paid the same way. If such a complicated system can be made to work in so many other ways, it should be standardized to benefit all involved. Including those doing our best to care for patients in this challenging time – and at all times.
 

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

In December 1917, a large part of Halifax was destroyed when an ammunition ship exploded.

In the wake of the explosion large parts of the city were burning. Surrounding communities’ fire departments raced to the scene, only to find their efforts thwarted by a lack of uniform standards for hydrant-hose-nozzle connectors. With no way to tap into Halifax’s water supply, their hoses were worthless.

In the aftermath of WWI, this led to a standardization of fire hose connectors across multiple countries, to ensure it wouldn’t happen again. Sometimes it takes a disaster to bring such problems to the forefront so they can be fixed.

One issue that has come up repeatedly in talking to other physicians is the complete lack of uniformity in telemedicine billing codes. While not a new issue, the coronavirus pandemic has brought it into focus here, and it’s time to fix it.

Here’s an example of information I’ve found about telemedicine billing codes (Note: I have no idea if any of this is correct, so don’t rely on it in your own billing).

• Aetna: Point of service 02
• Cigna: Point of service 02 with modifier 95.
• BCBS Anthem Point of Service 02 with modifier GT.
• Medicare: Point of service 02 OR Point of service 11 with modifier 95 (I’ve seen conflicting reports).

And that’s just a sample. BCBS, for example, seems to vary by state and sub-network.

This is ridiculous. Even with different plans, the CPT and ICD10 codes are standardized, so why not things such as POS codes and modifiers? The only ones benefiting from this are insurance companies, who get to deny claims on grounds that they weren’t billed correctly.

This is, allegedly, the Internet age. Medical bills are submitted electronically, and often paid the same way. If such a complicated system can be made to work in so many other ways, it should be standardized to benefit all involved. Including those doing our best to care for patients in this challenging time – and at all times.
 

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

In December 1917, a large part of Halifax was destroyed when an ammunition ship exploded.

In the wake of the explosion large parts of the city were burning. Surrounding communities’ fire departments raced to the scene, only to find their efforts thwarted by a lack of uniform standards for hydrant-hose-nozzle connectors. With no way to tap into Halifax’s water supply, their hoses were worthless.

In the aftermath of WWI, this led to a standardization of fire hose connectors across multiple countries, to ensure it wouldn’t happen again. Sometimes it takes a disaster to bring such problems to the forefront so they can be fixed.

One issue that has come up repeatedly in talking to other physicians is the complete lack of uniformity in telemedicine billing codes. While not a new issue, the coronavirus pandemic has brought it into focus here, and it’s time to fix it.

Here’s an example of information I’ve found about telemedicine billing codes (Note: I have no idea if any of this is correct, so don’t rely on it in your own billing).

• Aetna: Point of service 02
• Cigna: Point of service 02 with modifier 95.
• BCBS Anthem Point of Service 02 with modifier GT.
• Medicare: Point of service 02 OR Point of service 11 with modifier 95 (I’ve seen conflicting reports).

And that’s just a sample. BCBS, for example, seems to vary by state and sub-network.

This is ridiculous. Even with different plans, the CPT and ICD10 codes are standardized, so why not things such as POS codes and modifiers? The only ones benefiting from this are insurance companies, who get to deny claims on grounds that they weren’t billed correctly.

This is, allegedly, the Internet age. Medical bills are submitted electronically, and often paid the same way. If such a complicated system can be made to work in so many other ways, it should be standardized to benefit all involved. Including those doing our best to care for patients in this challenging time – and at all times.
 

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

Ignorance may be bliss for some. But as I sit here in my scenic social isolation on the Maine coast I find that, like most people, what I don’t know unsettles me. How is the COVID-19 virus spread? Does my wife’s wipe down of the doorknobs after I return from the grocery store really make us any less likely to contract the virus? Is wearing my homemade bandana face mask doing anything to protect me? I suspect not, but I wear it as a statement of courtesy and solidarity to my fellow community members.

zimmytws/Thinkstock

Does the 6-foot rule make any sense? I’ve read that it is based on a study dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen images of the 25-foot droplet plume blasting out from a sneeze and understand that, as a bicyclist, I may be generating a shower of droplets in my wake. But, are those droplets a threat to anyone I pedal by if I am symptom free? What does being a carrier mean when we are talking about COVID-19?

What makes me more vulnerable to this particular virus as an apparently healthy septuagenarian? What collection of misfortunes have fallen on those younger victims of the pandemic? How often was it genetic?

Of course, none of us has the information yet that can provide us answers. This vacuum has attracted scores of “experts” bold enough or careless enough to venture an opinion. They may have also issued a caveat, but how often have the media failed to include it in the report or buried it in the fine print at the end of the story?

My discomfort with this information void has left me and you and everyone else to our imaginations to craft our own explanations. So, I try to piece together a construct based on what I can glean from what I read and see in the news because like most people I fortunately have no first-hand information about even a single case. The number of deaths is horrifying, but may not have hit close to home and given most of us a real personal sense of the illness and its character.

Maine is a small state with just over a million inhabitants, and most of us have some connection to one another. It may be that a person is the second cousin of someone who used to live 2 miles down the road. But, there is some feeling of familiarity. We have had deaths related to COVID-19, but very scanty information other than the county about where they occurred and whether the victim was a resident of an extended care facility. We are told very little if any details about exposure as officials invoke HIPAA regulations that leave us in the dark. Other than one vague reference to a “traveling salesman” who may have introduced the virus to several nursing homes, there has been very little information about how the virus may have been spread here in Maine. Even national reports of the deaths of high-profile entertainers and retired athletes are usually draped in the same haze of privacy.

Most of us don’t need to know the names and street addresses of the victims but a few anonymous narratives that include some general information on how epidemiologists believe clusters began and propagated would help us understand our risks with just a glimmer of clarity.

Of course the epidemiologists may not have the answers we are seeking because they too are struggling to untangle connections hampered by concerns of privacy. There is no question that privacy must remain an important part of the physician-patient relationship. But a pandemic has thrown us into a situation where common sense demands that HIPAA be interpreted with an emphasis on the greater good. Finding that balance between privacy and public knowledge will continue to be one of our greatest challenges.

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].

Ignorance may be bliss for some. But as I sit here in my scenic social isolation on the Maine coast I find that, like most people, what I don’t know unsettles me. How is the COVID-19 virus spread? Does my wife’s wipe down of the doorknobs after I return from the grocery store really make us any less likely to contract the virus? Is wearing my homemade bandana face mask doing anything to protect me? I suspect not, but I wear it as a statement of courtesy and solidarity to my fellow community members.

zimmytws/Thinkstock

Does the 6-foot rule make any sense? I’ve read that it is based on a study dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen images of the 25-foot droplet plume blasting out from a sneeze and understand that, as a bicyclist, I may be generating a shower of droplets in my wake. But, are those droplets a threat to anyone I pedal by if I am symptom free? What does being a carrier mean when we are talking about COVID-19?

What makes me more vulnerable to this particular virus as an apparently healthy septuagenarian? What collection of misfortunes have fallen on those younger victims of the pandemic? How often was it genetic?

Of course, none of us has the information yet that can provide us answers. This vacuum has attracted scores of “experts” bold enough or careless enough to venture an opinion. They may have also issued a caveat, but how often have the media failed to include it in the report or buried it in the fine print at the end of the story?

My discomfort with this information void has left me and you and everyone else to our imaginations to craft our own explanations. So, I try to piece together a construct based on what I can glean from what I read and see in the news because like most people I fortunately have no first-hand information about even a single case. The number of deaths is horrifying, but may not have hit close to home and given most of us a real personal sense of the illness and its character.

Maine is a small state with just over a million inhabitants, and most of us have some connection to one another. It may be that a person is the second cousin of someone who used to live 2 miles down the road. But, there is some feeling of familiarity. We have had deaths related to COVID-19, but very scanty information other than the county about where they occurred and whether the victim was a resident of an extended care facility. We are told very little if any details about exposure as officials invoke HIPAA regulations that leave us in the dark. Other than one vague reference to a “traveling salesman” who may have introduced the virus to several nursing homes, there has been very little information about how the virus may have been spread here in Maine. Even national reports of the deaths of high-profile entertainers and retired athletes are usually draped in the same haze of privacy.

Most of us don’t need to know the names and street addresses of the victims but a few anonymous narratives that include some general information on how epidemiologists believe clusters began and propagated would help us understand our risks with just a glimmer of clarity.

Of course the epidemiologists may not have the answers we are seeking because they too are struggling to untangle connections hampered by concerns of privacy. There is no question that privacy must remain an important part of the physician-patient relationship. But a pandemic has thrown us into a situation where common sense demands that HIPAA be interpreted with an emphasis on the greater good. Finding that balance between privacy and public knowledge will continue to be one of our greatest challenges.

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].

Ignorance may be bliss for some. But as I sit here in my scenic social isolation on the Maine coast I find that, like most people, what I don’t know unsettles me. How is the COVID-19 virus spread? Does my wife’s wipe down of the doorknobs after I return from the grocery store really make us any less likely to contract the virus? Is wearing my homemade bandana face mask doing anything to protect me? I suspect not, but I wear it as a statement of courtesy and solidarity to my fellow community members.

zimmytws/Thinkstock

Does the 6-foot rule make any sense? I’ve read that it is based on a study dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen images of the 25-foot droplet plume blasting out from a sneeze and understand that, as a bicyclist, I may be generating a shower of droplets in my wake. But, are those droplets a threat to anyone I pedal by if I am symptom free? What does being a carrier mean when we are talking about COVID-19?

What makes me more vulnerable to this particular virus as an apparently healthy septuagenarian? What collection of misfortunes have fallen on those younger victims of the pandemic? How often was it genetic?

Of course, none of us has the information yet that can provide us answers. This vacuum has attracted scores of “experts” bold enough or careless enough to venture an opinion. They may have also issued a caveat, but how often have the media failed to include it in the report or buried it in the fine print at the end of the story?

My discomfort with this information void has left me and you and everyone else to our imaginations to craft our own explanations. So, I try to piece together a construct based on what I can glean from what I read and see in the news because like most people I fortunately have no first-hand information about even a single case. The number of deaths is horrifying, but may not have hit close to home and given most of us a real personal sense of the illness and its character.

Maine is a small state with just over a million inhabitants, and most of us have some connection to one another. It may be that a person is the second cousin of someone who used to live 2 miles down the road. But, there is some feeling of familiarity. We have had deaths related to COVID-19, but very scanty information other than the county about where they occurred and whether the victim was a resident of an extended care facility. We are told very little if any details about exposure as officials invoke HIPAA regulations that leave us in the dark. Other than one vague reference to a “traveling salesman” who may have introduced the virus to several nursing homes, there has been very little information about how the virus may have been spread here in Maine. Even national reports of the deaths of high-profile entertainers and retired athletes are usually draped in the same haze of privacy.

Most of us don’t need to know the names and street addresses of the victims but a few anonymous narratives that include some general information on how epidemiologists believe clusters began and propagated would help us understand our risks with just a glimmer of clarity.

Of course the epidemiologists may not have the answers we are seeking because they too are struggling to untangle connections hampered by concerns of privacy. There is no question that privacy must remain an important part of the physician-patient relationship. But a pandemic has thrown us into a situation where common sense demands that HIPAA be interpreted with an emphasis on the greater good. Finding that balance between privacy and public knowledge will continue to be one of our greatest challenges.

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].