Mixed Topics

As an undergraduate student at Northeastern University in Boston, Meghan Chin spent her summers working for a day program in Rhode Island. Her charges were adults with various forms of intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD).

“I was very much a caretaker,” Ms. Chin, now 29, said. “It was everything from helping them get dressed in the morning to getting them to medical appointments.”

During one such visit Ms. Chin got a lesson about how health care looks from the viewpoint of someone with an IDD.

The patient was a woman in her 60s and she was having gastrointestinal issues; symptoms she could have articulated, if asked. “She was perfectly capable of telling a clinician where it hurt, how long she had experienced the problem, and what she had done or not done to alleviate it,” Ms. Chin said.

And of comprehending a response. But she was not given the opportunity.

“She would explain what was going on to the clinician,” Ms. Chin recalled. “And the clinician would turn to me and answer. It was this weird three-way conversation – as if she wasn’t even there in the room with us.”

Ms. Chin was incensed at the rude and disrespectful way the patient had been treated. But her charge didn’t seem upset or surprised. Just resigned. “Sadly, she had become used to this,” Ms. Chin said. 

For the young aide, however, the experience was searing. “It didn’t seem right to me,” Ms. Chin said. “That’s why, when I went to medical school, I knew I wanted to do better for this population.”

Serendipity led her to Georgetown University, Washington, where she met Kim Bullock, MD, one of the country’s leading advocates for improved health care delivery to those with IDDs.

Dr. Bullock, an associate professor of family medicine, seeks to create better training and educational opportunities for medical students who will likely encounter patients with these disabilities in their practices.

When Dr. Bullock heard Ms. Chin’s story about the patient being ignored, she was not surprised.

“This is not an unusual or unique situation,” said Dr. Bullock, who is also director of Georgetown’s community health division and a faculty member of the university’s Center for Excellence for Developmental Disabilities. “In fact, it’s quite common and is part of what spurred my own interest in educating pre-med and medical students about effective communication techniques, particularly when addressing neurodiverse patients.”

More than 13% of Americans, or roughly 44 million people, have some form of disability, according to the National Institute on Disability at the University of New Hampshire, a figure that does not include those who are institutionalized. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimates that 17% of children aged 3-17 years have a developmental disability.

Even so, many physicians feel ill-prepared to care for disabled patients. A survey of physicians, published in the journal Health Affairs, found that some lacked the resources and training to properly care for patients with disabilities, or that they struggled to coordinate care for such individuals. Some said they did not know which types of accessible equipment, like adjustable tables and chair scales, were needed or how to use them. And some said they actively try to avoid treating patients with disabilities.
 

Don’t assume

The first step at correcting the problem, Dr. Bullock said, is to not assume that all IDD patients are incapable of communicating. By talking not to the patient but to their caregiver or spouse or child, as the clinician did with Ms. Chin years ago, “we are taking away their agency, their autonomy to speak for and about themselves.”

Change involves altering physicians’ attitudes and assumptions toward this population, through education. But how?

“The medical school curriculum is tight as it is,” Dr. Bullock acknowledged. “There’s a lot of things students have to learn. People wonder: where we will add this?”

Her suggestion: Incorporate IDD all along the way, through programs or experiences that will enable medical students to see such patients “not as something separate, but as people that have special needs just as other populations have.”

Case in point: Operation House Call, a program in Massachusetts designed to support young health care professionals, by building “confidence, interest, and sensitivity” toward individuals with IDD.

Eight medical and allied health schools, including those at Harvard Medical School and Yale School of Nursing, participate in the program, the centerpiece of which is time spent by teams of medical students in the homes of families with neurodiverse members. “It’s transformational,” said Susan Feeney, DNP, NP-C, director of adult gerontology and family nurse practitioner programs at the graduate school of nursing at the University of Massachusetts, Worcester. “They spend a few hours at the homes of these families, have this interaction with them, and journal about their experiences.”

Dr. Feeney described as “transformational” the experience of the students after getting to know these families. “They all come back profoundly changed,” she told this news organization. “As a medical or health care professional, you meet people in an artificial environment of the clinic and hospital. Here, they become human, like you. It takes the stigma away.”

One area of medicine in which this is an exception is pediatrics, where interaction with children with IDD and their families is common – and close. “They’re going to be much more attuned to this,” Dr. Feeney said. “The problem is primary care or internal medicine. Once these children get into their mid and later 20s, and they need a practitioner to talk to about adult concerns.”

And with adulthood come other medical needs, as the physical demands of age fall no less heavily on individuals with IDDs than those without. For example: “Neurodiverse people get pregnant,” Dr. Bullock said. They also can get heart disease as they age; or require the care of a rheumatologist, a neurologist, an orthopedic surgeon, or any other medical specialty.

Generation gap

Fortunately, the next generation of physicians may be more open to this more inclusionary approach toward a widely misunderstood population.

Like Ms. Chin, Sarah Bdeir had experience with this population prior to beginning her training in medicine. She had volunteered at a school for people with IDD.

“It was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had,” Ms. Bdeir, now 23 and a first-year medical student at Wayne State University, Detroit, said. She found that the neurodiverse individuals she worked with had as many abilities as disabilities. “They are capable of learning, but they do it differently,” she said. “You have to adjust to the way they learn. And you have to step out of your own box.”

Ms. Bdeir also heard about Dr. Bullock’s work and is assisting her in a research project on how to better improve nutritional education for people with IDDs. And although she said it may take time for curriculum boards at medical schools to integrate this kind of training into their programs, she believes they will, in part because the rising cohort of medical students today have an eagerness to engage with and learn more about IDD patients.

As does Ms. Chin.

“When I talk to my peers about this, they’re very receptive,” Ms. Chin said. “They want to learn how to better support the IDD population. And they will learn. I believe in my generation of future doctors.”

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

As an undergraduate student at Northeastern University in Boston, Meghan Chin spent her summers working for a day program in Rhode Island. Her charges were adults with various forms of intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD).

“I was very much a caretaker,” Ms. Chin, now 29, said. “It was everything from helping them get dressed in the morning to getting them to medical appointments.”

During one such visit Ms. Chin got a lesson about how health care looks from the viewpoint of someone with an IDD.

The patient was a woman in her 60s and she was having gastrointestinal issues; symptoms she could have articulated, if asked. “She was perfectly capable of telling a clinician where it hurt, how long she had experienced the problem, and what she had done or not done to alleviate it,” Ms. Chin said.

And of comprehending a response. But she was not given the opportunity.

“She would explain what was going on to the clinician,” Ms. Chin recalled. “And the clinician would turn to me and answer. It was this weird three-way conversation – as if she wasn’t even there in the room with us.”

Ms. Chin was incensed at the rude and disrespectful way the patient had been treated. But her charge didn’t seem upset or surprised. Just resigned. “Sadly, she had become used to this,” Ms. Chin said. 

For the young aide, however, the experience was searing. “It didn’t seem right to me,” Ms. Chin said. “That’s why, when I went to medical school, I knew I wanted to do better for this population.”

Serendipity led her to Georgetown University, Washington, where she met Kim Bullock, MD, one of the country’s leading advocates for improved health care delivery to those with IDDs.

Dr. Bullock, an associate professor of family medicine, seeks to create better training and educational opportunities for medical students who will likely encounter patients with these disabilities in their practices.

When Dr. Bullock heard Ms. Chin’s story about the patient being ignored, she was not surprised.

“This is not an unusual or unique situation,” said Dr. Bullock, who is also director of Georgetown’s community health division and a faculty member of the university’s Center for Excellence for Developmental Disabilities. “In fact, it’s quite common and is part of what spurred my own interest in educating pre-med and medical students about effective communication techniques, particularly when addressing neurodiverse patients.”

More than 13% of Americans, or roughly 44 million people, have some form of disability, according to the National Institute on Disability at the University of New Hampshire, a figure that does not include those who are institutionalized. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimates that 17% of children aged 3-17 years have a developmental disability.

Even so, many physicians feel ill-prepared to care for disabled patients. A survey of physicians, published in the journal Health Affairs, found that some lacked the resources and training to properly care for patients with disabilities, or that they struggled to coordinate care for such individuals. Some said they did not know which types of accessible equipment, like adjustable tables and chair scales, were needed or how to use them. And some said they actively try to avoid treating patients with disabilities.
 

Don’t assume

The first step at correcting the problem, Dr. Bullock said, is to not assume that all IDD patients are incapable of communicating. By talking not to the patient but to their caregiver or spouse or child, as the clinician did with Ms. Chin years ago, “we are taking away their agency, their autonomy to speak for and about themselves.”

Change involves altering physicians’ attitudes and assumptions toward this population, through education. But how?

“The medical school curriculum is tight as it is,” Dr. Bullock acknowledged. “There’s a lot of things students have to learn. People wonder: where we will add this?”

Her suggestion: Incorporate IDD all along the way, through programs or experiences that will enable medical students to see such patients “not as something separate, but as people that have special needs just as other populations have.”

Case in point: Operation House Call, a program in Massachusetts designed to support young health care professionals, by building “confidence, interest, and sensitivity” toward individuals with IDD.

Eight medical and allied health schools, including those at Harvard Medical School and Yale School of Nursing, participate in the program, the centerpiece of which is time spent by teams of medical students in the homes of families with neurodiverse members. “It’s transformational,” said Susan Feeney, DNP, NP-C, director of adult gerontology and family nurse practitioner programs at the graduate school of nursing at the University of Massachusetts, Worcester. “They spend a few hours at the homes of these families, have this interaction with them, and journal about their experiences.”

Dr. Feeney described as “transformational” the experience of the students after getting to know these families. “They all come back profoundly changed,” she told this news organization. “As a medical or health care professional, you meet people in an artificial environment of the clinic and hospital. Here, they become human, like you. It takes the stigma away.”

One area of medicine in which this is an exception is pediatrics, where interaction with children with IDD and their families is common – and close. “They’re going to be much more attuned to this,” Dr. Feeney said. “The problem is primary care or internal medicine. Once these children get into their mid and later 20s, and they need a practitioner to talk to about adult concerns.”

And with adulthood come other medical needs, as the physical demands of age fall no less heavily on individuals with IDDs than those without. For example: “Neurodiverse people get pregnant,” Dr. Bullock said. They also can get heart disease as they age; or require the care of a rheumatologist, a neurologist, an orthopedic surgeon, or any other medical specialty.

Generation gap

Fortunately, the next generation of physicians may be more open to this more inclusionary approach toward a widely misunderstood population.

Like Ms. Chin, Sarah Bdeir had experience with this population prior to beginning her training in medicine. She had volunteered at a school for people with IDD.

“It was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had,” Ms. Bdeir, now 23 and a first-year medical student at Wayne State University, Detroit, said. She found that the neurodiverse individuals she worked with had as many abilities as disabilities. “They are capable of learning, but they do it differently,” she said. “You have to adjust to the way they learn. And you have to step out of your own box.”

Ms. Bdeir also heard about Dr. Bullock’s work and is assisting her in a research project on how to better improve nutritional education for people with IDDs. And although she said it may take time for curriculum boards at medical schools to integrate this kind of training into their programs, she believes they will, in part because the rising cohort of medical students today have an eagerness to engage with and learn more about IDD patients.

As does Ms. Chin.

“When I talk to my peers about this, they’re very receptive,” Ms. Chin said. “They want to learn how to better support the IDD population. And they will learn. I believe in my generation of future doctors.”

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

As an undergraduate student at Northeastern University in Boston, Meghan Chin spent her summers working for a day program in Rhode Island. Her charges were adults with various forms of intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD).

“I was very much a caretaker,” Ms. Chin, now 29, said. “It was everything from helping them get dressed in the morning to getting them to medical appointments.”

During one such visit Ms. Chin got a lesson about how health care looks from the viewpoint of someone with an IDD.

The patient was a woman in her 60s and she was having gastrointestinal issues; symptoms she could have articulated, if asked. “She was perfectly capable of telling a clinician where it hurt, how long she had experienced the problem, and what she had done or not done to alleviate it,” Ms. Chin said.

And of comprehending a response. But she was not given the opportunity.

“She would explain what was going on to the clinician,” Ms. Chin recalled. “And the clinician would turn to me and answer. It was this weird three-way conversation – as if she wasn’t even there in the room with us.”

Ms. Chin was incensed at the rude and disrespectful way the patient had been treated. But her charge didn’t seem upset or surprised. Just resigned. “Sadly, she had become used to this,” Ms. Chin said. 

For the young aide, however, the experience was searing. “It didn’t seem right to me,” Ms. Chin said. “That’s why, when I went to medical school, I knew I wanted to do better for this population.”

Serendipity led her to Georgetown University, Washington, where she met Kim Bullock, MD, one of the country’s leading advocates for improved health care delivery to those with IDDs.

Dr. Bullock, an associate professor of family medicine, seeks to create better training and educational opportunities for medical students who will likely encounter patients with these disabilities in their practices.

When Dr. Bullock heard Ms. Chin’s story about the patient being ignored, she was not surprised.

“This is not an unusual or unique situation,” said Dr. Bullock, who is also director of Georgetown’s community health division and a faculty member of the university’s Center for Excellence for Developmental Disabilities. “In fact, it’s quite common and is part of what spurred my own interest in educating pre-med and medical students about effective communication techniques, particularly when addressing neurodiverse patients.”

More than 13% of Americans, or roughly 44 million people, have some form of disability, according to the National Institute on Disability at the University of New Hampshire, a figure that does not include those who are institutionalized. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimates that 17% of children aged 3-17 years have a developmental disability.

Even so, many physicians feel ill-prepared to care for disabled patients. A survey of physicians, published in the journal Health Affairs, found that some lacked the resources and training to properly care for patients with disabilities, or that they struggled to coordinate care for such individuals. Some said they did not know which types of accessible equipment, like adjustable tables and chair scales, were needed or how to use them. And some said they actively try to avoid treating patients with disabilities.
 

Don’t assume

The first step at correcting the problem, Dr. Bullock said, is to not assume that all IDD patients are incapable of communicating. By talking not to the patient but to their caregiver or spouse or child, as the clinician did with Ms. Chin years ago, “we are taking away their agency, their autonomy to speak for and about themselves.”

Change involves altering physicians’ attitudes and assumptions toward this population, through education. But how?

“The medical school curriculum is tight as it is,” Dr. Bullock acknowledged. “There’s a lot of things students have to learn. People wonder: where we will add this?”

Her suggestion: Incorporate IDD all along the way, through programs or experiences that will enable medical students to see such patients “not as something separate, but as people that have special needs just as other populations have.”

Case in point: Operation House Call, a program in Massachusetts designed to support young health care professionals, by building “confidence, interest, and sensitivity” toward individuals with IDD.

Eight medical and allied health schools, including those at Harvard Medical School and Yale School of Nursing, participate in the program, the centerpiece of which is time spent by teams of medical students in the homes of families with neurodiverse members. “It’s transformational,” said Susan Feeney, DNP, NP-C, director of adult gerontology and family nurse practitioner programs at the graduate school of nursing at the University of Massachusetts, Worcester. “They spend a few hours at the homes of these families, have this interaction with them, and journal about their experiences.”

Dr. Feeney described as “transformational” the experience of the students after getting to know these families. “They all come back profoundly changed,” she told this news organization. “As a medical or health care professional, you meet people in an artificial environment of the clinic and hospital. Here, they become human, like you. It takes the stigma away.”

One area of medicine in which this is an exception is pediatrics, where interaction with children with IDD and their families is common – and close. “They’re going to be much more attuned to this,” Dr. Feeney said. “The problem is primary care or internal medicine. Once these children get into their mid and later 20s, and they need a practitioner to talk to about adult concerns.”

And with adulthood come other medical needs, as the physical demands of age fall no less heavily on individuals with IDDs than those without. For example: “Neurodiverse people get pregnant,” Dr. Bullock said. They also can get heart disease as they age; or require the care of a rheumatologist, a neurologist, an orthopedic surgeon, or any other medical specialty.

Generation gap

Fortunately, the next generation of physicians may be more open to this more inclusionary approach toward a widely misunderstood population.

Like Ms. Chin, Sarah Bdeir had experience with this population prior to beginning her training in medicine. She had volunteered at a school for people with IDD.

“It was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had,” Ms. Bdeir, now 23 and a first-year medical student at Wayne State University, Detroit, said. She found that the neurodiverse individuals she worked with had as many abilities as disabilities. “They are capable of learning, but they do it differently,” she said. “You have to adjust to the way they learn. And you have to step out of your own box.”

Ms. Bdeir also heard about Dr. Bullock’s work and is assisting her in a research project on how to better improve nutritional education for people with IDDs. And although she said it may take time for curriculum boards at medical schools to integrate this kind of training into their programs, she believes they will, in part because the rising cohort of medical students today have an eagerness to engage with and learn more about IDD patients.

As does Ms. Chin.

“When I talk to my peers about this, they’re very receptive,” Ms. Chin said. “They want to learn how to better support the IDD population. And they will learn. I believe in my generation of future doctors.”

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

Listening to birdsong appears to have a positive and significant impact on mental health and mood, new research suggests.

Investigators found that people who listened to recordings of birds singing experienced a significant reduction in anxiety and paranoia. In contrast, the researchers also found that recordings of traffic noises, including car engines, sirens, and construction, increased depressive states.

“The results suggest that it may be worthwhile to investigate the targeted use of natural sounds such as birdsong in a clinical setting – for example, in hospital waiting rooms or in psychiatric settings,” study investigator Emil Stobbe, MSc, a predoctoral fellow at the Max Planck Institute for Human Development, Berlin, said in an interview.

“If someone is seeking an easily accessible intervention to lower distress, listening to an audio clip of birds singing might be a great option,” he added.

The study was published online in Scientific Reports.
 

Nature’s calming effect

The aim of the research was “to investigate how the physical environment impact brain and mental health,” Mr. Stobbe said.

Mr. Stobbe said that there is significantly more research examining visual properties of the physical environment but that the auditory domain is not as well researched, although, he added, that the beneficial effects of interactions with nature are “well studied.”

He noted that anxiety and paranoia can be experienced by many individuals even though they may be unaware that they are experiencing these states.

“We wanted to investigate if the beneficial effects of nature can also exert their impact on these states. In theory, birds can be representational for natural and vital environment, which, in turn, transfer the positive effects of nature on birdsong listeners,” he said.

A previous study compared nature versus city soundscape conditions and showed that the nature soundscape improved participants’ cognitive performance but did not improve mood. The present study added diversity to the soundscapes and focused not only on cognition and general mood but also on state paranoia, “which can be measured in a change-sensitive manner” and “has been shown to increase in response to traffic noise.”

The researchers hypothesized that birdsong would have a greater beneficial effect on mood and paranoia and on cognitive performance compared with traffic noise. They also investigated whether greater versus lower diversity of bird species or noise sources within the soundscapes “would be a relevant factor modulating the effects.”

The researchers recruited participants (n = 295) from a crowdsourcing platform. Participants’ mean age was late 20s (standard deviations ranged from 6.30 to 7.72), with a greater proportion of male versus female participants.

To be included, participants were required to have no history of mental illness, hearing difficulties, substance/drug intake, or suicidal thoughts/tendencies.

The outcomes of interest (mood, paranoia, cognitive performance) were measured before and after soundscape exposure and each soundscape had a low- versus high-diversity version. This resulted in several analyses that compared two types of sounds (birdsongs vs. traffic noise) x two levels of diversity (low vs. high diversity) and two time points (pre- vs. post exposure).

The exposure to sounds lasted for 6 minutes, after which they were asked to report (on a 0-100 visual scale) how diverse/monotone, beautiful, and pleasant they perceived the soundscape to be.
 

Reduction in depressive symptoms

Participants were divided into four groups: low-diversity traffic noise soundscape (n = 83), high-diversity traffic noise soundscape (n = 60), low-diversity birdsong soundscape (n = 63), and high-diversity birdsong soundscape (n = 80)

In addition to listening to the sounds, participants completed questionnaires measuring mood (depression and anxiety) and paranoia as well as a test of digit span cognitive performance (both the forward and the backward versions).

The type, diversity, and type x diversity all revealed significant effect sizes (F[3, 276] = 78.6; P < .001; eta-squared = 0.461; F[3, 276] = 3.16; P = .025; eta-squared = 0.033; and F[3, 276] = 2.66; P = .028, respectively), “suggesting that all of these factors, as well as their interaction, had a significant impact on the perception of soundscapes (that is, ratings on monotony/diversity, beauty, and pleasantness).”

A post hoc examination showed that depressive symptoms significantly increased within the low- and high-diversity urban soundscapes but decreased significantly in the high-diversity birdsong soundscapes (T[1, 60] = –2.57; P = .012; d = –0.29).

For anxiety, the post hoc within-group analyses found no effects within low- and high-diversity traffic noise conditions (T[1, 82] = –1.37; P = .174; d = –0.15 and T[1, 68] = 0.49; P = .629; d = 0.06, respectively). By contrast, there were significant declines in both birdsong conditions (low diversity: T[1, 62] = –6.13; P < .001; d = –0.77; high diversity: T[1, 60] = –6.32; P < .001; d =  –0.70).

Similarly, there were no changes in participants with paranoia when they listened to either low- or high-diversity traffic noises (T[1, 82] = –0.55; P = .583; d = –0.06 and T[1, 68] = 0.67; P = .507; d = 0.08, respectively). On the other hand, both birdsong conditions yielded reductions in paranoia (low diversity: T[1, 62] = –5.90; P < .001; d = –0.74; high diversity: T[1, 60] =  –4.11; P < .001; d = –0.46).

None of the soundscapes had any effect on cognition.

“In theory, birds can be representational for natural and vital environments which, in turn, transfer the positive effects of nature on birdsong listeners,” said Mr. Stobbe.

“Taken together, the findings of the current study provide another facet of why interactions with nature can be beneficial for our mental health, and it is highly important to preserve nature,” he added.

Mr. Stobbe said that future research should focus on investigating mixed soundscapes including examining whether the presence of natural sounds in urban settings lower stressors such as traffic noise.
 

An understudied area

Commenting for this article, Ken Duckworth, MD, chief medical officer of the National Alliance on Mental Illness called the study “interesting but limited.”

Dr. Duckworth, who was not involved in the research said that the “benefits of nature are understudied” and agreed with the investigators that it is potentially important to study the use of birdsongs in psychiatric facilities. “Future studies could also correlate the role of birdsong with the mental health benefits/aspects of ‘being in nature,’ which has been found to have some effect.”

Open Access funding was enabled and organized by Projekt DEAL. The authors and Dr. Duckworth declared no competing interests.

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

Listening to birdsong appears to have a positive and significant impact on mental health and mood, new research suggests.

Investigators found that people who listened to recordings of birds singing experienced a significant reduction in anxiety and paranoia. In contrast, the researchers also found that recordings of traffic noises, including car engines, sirens, and construction, increased depressive states.

“The results suggest that it may be worthwhile to investigate the targeted use of natural sounds such as birdsong in a clinical setting – for example, in hospital waiting rooms or in psychiatric settings,” study investigator Emil Stobbe, MSc, a predoctoral fellow at the Max Planck Institute for Human Development, Berlin, said in an interview.

“If someone is seeking an easily accessible intervention to lower distress, listening to an audio clip of birds singing might be a great option,” he added.

The study was published online in Scientific Reports.
 

Nature’s calming effect

The aim of the research was “to investigate how the physical environment impact brain and mental health,” Mr. Stobbe said.

Mr. Stobbe said that there is significantly more research examining visual properties of the physical environment but that the auditory domain is not as well researched, although, he added, that the beneficial effects of interactions with nature are “well studied.”

He noted that anxiety and paranoia can be experienced by many individuals even though they may be unaware that they are experiencing these states.

“We wanted to investigate if the beneficial effects of nature can also exert their impact on these states. In theory, birds can be representational for natural and vital environment, which, in turn, transfer the positive effects of nature on birdsong listeners,” he said.

A previous study compared nature versus city soundscape conditions and showed that the nature soundscape improved participants’ cognitive performance but did not improve mood. The present study added diversity to the soundscapes and focused not only on cognition and general mood but also on state paranoia, “which can be measured in a change-sensitive manner” and “has been shown to increase in response to traffic noise.”

The researchers hypothesized that birdsong would have a greater beneficial effect on mood and paranoia and on cognitive performance compared with traffic noise. They also investigated whether greater versus lower diversity of bird species or noise sources within the soundscapes “would be a relevant factor modulating the effects.”

The researchers recruited participants (n = 295) from a crowdsourcing platform. Participants’ mean age was late 20s (standard deviations ranged from 6.30 to 7.72), with a greater proportion of male versus female participants.

To be included, participants were required to have no history of mental illness, hearing difficulties, substance/drug intake, or suicidal thoughts/tendencies.

The outcomes of interest (mood, paranoia, cognitive performance) were measured before and after soundscape exposure and each soundscape had a low- versus high-diversity version. This resulted in several analyses that compared two types of sounds (birdsongs vs. traffic noise) x two levels of diversity (low vs. high diversity) and two time points (pre- vs. post exposure).

The exposure to sounds lasted for 6 minutes, after which they were asked to report (on a 0-100 visual scale) how diverse/monotone, beautiful, and pleasant they perceived the soundscape to be.
 

Reduction in depressive symptoms

Participants were divided into four groups: low-diversity traffic noise soundscape (n = 83), high-diversity traffic noise soundscape (n = 60), low-diversity birdsong soundscape (n = 63), and high-diversity birdsong soundscape (n = 80)

In addition to listening to the sounds, participants completed questionnaires measuring mood (depression and anxiety) and paranoia as well as a test of digit span cognitive performance (both the forward and the backward versions).

The type, diversity, and type x diversity all revealed significant effect sizes (F[3, 276] = 78.6; P < .001; eta-squared = 0.461; F[3, 276] = 3.16; P = .025; eta-squared = 0.033; and F[3, 276] = 2.66; P = .028, respectively), “suggesting that all of these factors, as well as their interaction, had a significant impact on the perception of soundscapes (that is, ratings on monotony/diversity, beauty, and pleasantness).”

A post hoc examination showed that depressive symptoms significantly increased within the low- and high-diversity urban soundscapes but decreased significantly in the high-diversity birdsong soundscapes (T[1, 60] = –2.57; P = .012; d = –0.29).

For anxiety, the post hoc within-group analyses found no effects within low- and high-diversity traffic noise conditions (T[1, 82] = –1.37; P = .174; d = –0.15 and T[1, 68] = 0.49; P = .629; d = 0.06, respectively). By contrast, there were significant declines in both birdsong conditions (low diversity: T[1, 62] = –6.13; P < .001; d = –0.77; high diversity: T[1, 60] = –6.32; P < .001; d =  –0.70).

Similarly, there were no changes in participants with paranoia when they listened to either low- or high-diversity traffic noises (T[1, 82] = –0.55; P = .583; d = –0.06 and T[1, 68] = 0.67; P = .507; d = 0.08, respectively). On the other hand, both birdsong conditions yielded reductions in paranoia (low diversity: T[1, 62] = –5.90; P < .001; d = –0.74; high diversity: T[1, 60] =  –4.11; P < .001; d = –0.46).

None of the soundscapes had any effect on cognition.

“In theory, birds can be representational for natural and vital environments which, in turn, transfer the positive effects of nature on birdsong listeners,” said Mr. Stobbe.

“Taken together, the findings of the current study provide another facet of why interactions with nature can be beneficial for our mental health, and it is highly important to preserve nature,” he added.

Mr. Stobbe said that future research should focus on investigating mixed soundscapes including examining whether the presence of natural sounds in urban settings lower stressors such as traffic noise.
 

An understudied area

Commenting for this article, Ken Duckworth, MD, chief medical officer of the National Alliance on Mental Illness called the study “interesting but limited.”

Dr. Duckworth, who was not involved in the research said that the “benefits of nature are understudied” and agreed with the investigators that it is potentially important to study the use of birdsongs in psychiatric facilities. “Future studies could also correlate the role of birdsong with the mental health benefits/aspects of ‘being in nature,’ which has been found to have some effect.”

Open Access funding was enabled and organized by Projekt DEAL. The authors and Dr. Duckworth declared no competing interests.

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

Listening to birdsong appears to have a positive and significant impact on mental health and mood, new research suggests.

Investigators found that people who listened to recordings of birds singing experienced a significant reduction in anxiety and paranoia. In contrast, the researchers also found that recordings of traffic noises, including car engines, sirens, and construction, increased depressive states.

“The results suggest that it may be worthwhile to investigate the targeted use of natural sounds such as birdsong in a clinical setting – for example, in hospital waiting rooms or in psychiatric settings,” study investigator Emil Stobbe, MSc, a predoctoral fellow at the Max Planck Institute for Human Development, Berlin, said in an interview.

“If someone is seeking an easily accessible intervention to lower distress, listening to an audio clip of birds singing might be a great option,” he added.

The study was published online in Scientific Reports.
 

Nature’s calming effect

The aim of the research was “to investigate how the physical environment impact brain and mental health,” Mr. Stobbe said.

Mr. Stobbe said that there is significantly more research examining visual properties of the physical environment but that the auditory domain is not as well researched, although, he added, that the beneficial effects of interactions with nature are “well studied.”

He noted that anxiety and paranoia can be experienced by many individuals even though they may be unaware that they are experiencing these states.

“We wanted to investigate if the beneficial effects of nature can also exert their impact on these states. In theory, birds can be representational for natural and vital environment, which, in turn, transfer the positive effects of nature on birdsong listeners,” he said.

A previous study compared nature versus city soundscape conditions and showed that the nature soundscape improved participants’ cognitive performance but did not improve mood. The present study added diversity to the soundscapes and focused not only on cognition and general mood but also on state paranoia, “which can be measured in a change-sensitive manner” and “has been shown to increase in response to traffic noise.”

The researchers hypothesized that birdsong would have a greater beneficial effect on mood and paranoia and on cognitive performance compared with traffic noise. They also investigated whether greater versus lower diversity of bird species or noise sources within the soundscapes “would be a relevant factor modulating the effects.”

The researchers recruited participants (n = 295) from a crowdsourcing platform. Participants’ mean age was late 20s (standard deviations ranged from 6.30 to 7.72), with a greater proportion of male versus female participants.

To be included, participants were required to have no history of mental illness, hearing difficulties, substance/drug intake, or suicidal thoughts/tendencies.

The outcomes of interest (mood, paranoia, cognitive performance) were measured before and after soundscape exposure and each soundscape had a low- versus high-diversity version. This resulted in several analyses that compared two types of sounds (birdsongs vs. traffic noise) x two levels of diversity (low vs. high diversity) and two time points (pre- vs. post exposure).

The exposure to sounds lasted for 6 minutes, after which they were asked to report (on a 0-100 visual scale) how diverse/monotone, beautiful, and pleasant they perceived the soundscape to be.
 

Reduction in depressive symptoms

Participants were divided into four groups: low-diversity traffic noise soundscape (n = 83), high-diversity traffic noise soundscape (n = 60), low-diversity birdsong soundscape (n = 63), and high-diversity birdsong soundscape (n = 80)

In addition to listening to the sounds, participants completed questionnaires measuring mood (depression and anxiety) and paranoia as well as a test of digit span cognitive performance (both the forward and the backward versions).

The type, diversity, and type x diversity all revealed significant effect sizes (F[3, 276] = 78.6; P < .001; eta-squared = 0.461; F[3, 276] = 3.16; P = .025; eta-squared = 0.033; and F[3, 276] = 2.66; P = .028, respectively), “suggesting that all of these factors, as well as their interaction, had a significant impact on the perception of soundscapes (that is, ratings on monotony/diversity, beauty, and pleasantness).”

A post hoc examination showed that depressive symptoms significantly increased within the low- and high-diversity urban soundscapes but decreased significantly in the high-diversity birdsong soundscapes (T[1, 60] = –2.57; P = .012; d = –0.29).

For anxiety, the post hoc within-group analyses found no effects within low- and high-diversity traffic noise conditions (T[1, 82] = –1.37; P = .174; d = –0.15 and T[1, 68] = 0.49; P = .629; d = 0.06, respectively). By contrast, there were significant declines in both birdsong conditions (low diversity: T[1, 62] = –6.13; P < .001; d = –0.77; high diversity: T[1, 60] = –6.32; P < .001; d =  –0.70).

Similarly, there were no changes in participants with paranoia when they listened to either low- or high-diversity traffic noises (T[1, 82] = –0.55; P = .583; d = –0.06 and T[1, 68] = 0.67; P = .507; d = 0.08, respectively). On the other hand, both birdsong conditions yielded reductions in paranoia (low diversity: T[1, 62] = –5.90; P < .001; d = –0.74; high diversity: T[1, 60] =  –4.11; P < .001; d = –0.46).

None of the soundscapes had any effect on cognition.

“In theory, birds can be representational for natural and vital environments which, in turn, transfer the positive effects of nature on birdsong listeners,” said Mr. Stobbe.

“Taken together, the findings of the current study provide another facet of why interactions with nature can be beneficial for our mental health, and it is highly important to preserve nature,” he added.

Mr. Stobbe said that future research should focus on investigating mixed soundscapes including examining whether the presence of natural sounds in urban settings lower stressors such as traffic noise.
 

An understudied area

Commenting for this article, Ken Duckworth, MD, chief medical officer of the National Alliance on Mental Illness called the study “interesting but limited.”

Dr. Duckworth, who was not involved in the research said that the “benefits of nature are understudied” and agreed with the investigators that it is potentially important to study the use of birdsongs in psychiatric facilities. “Future studies could also correlate the role of birdsong with the mental health benefits/aspects of ‘being in nature,’ which has been found to have some effect.”

Open Access funding was enabled and organized by Projekt DEAL. The authors and Dr. Duckworth declared no competing interests.

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

Psychiatric patients with impaired communication abilities were significantly more likely to be admitted involuntarily to inpatient care and to experience coercive measures after admission, based on data from more than 1,500 individuals.

Despite improvements in reducing coercive measures in psychiatric inpatient care, both involuntary admission and coercive measures remain in use in many countries worldwide, wrote Celline Cole, MSc, a doctoral candidate at Charité Universitätsmedizin, Berlin, and colleagues. Such measures are considered “severe violations of a person’s rights to self-determination and personal freedom,” they wrote.

Previous studies have identified characteristics that increase the risk of involuntary inpatient admission, but the association between patients’ communication ability and coercive measures has not been explored, they noted.

In a study published in the Journal of Psychiatric Research, the investigators reviewed data from 1,556 adults who were admitted to psychiatric inpatient care at a single center in Germany in 2019. Patients’ communication ability was defined and recorded as one of the following: perfect; limited because of language or other reasons; or impossible because of language or other reasons (no communication).

Overall, 23% of patients were admitted involuntarily; the most common reasons for referral to inpatient care in the study population were physical aggression against individuals (8%) or objects (4%), and verbal aggression (7%). A total of 1,085 patients (70%) were able or willing to communicate.

Patients with limited or no communication ability because of language issues were three to four times more likely to be admitted involuntarily (odds ratios, 3.08 and 4.02, respectively), while those with limited or no communication ability because of nonlanguage issues were even more likely to be admitted involuntarily (ORs, 3.10 and 13.71, respectively), compared with patients without communication problems.

Patients with limited communication ability because of language issues also were significantly more likely than those without communication issues to experience coercive measures (OR, 4.53), as were patients with either limited or no communication ability because of no-language issues (ORs, 1.58 and 3.55, respectively).

Involuntary admission was defined as provisional detention, detention initiated by the patient’s legal guardian followed by a court order, or detention by court order “according to the Mental Health Law of the State of Berlin,” the researchers said. The average length of inpatient stay was 19 days. The age of the patients ranged from 18 to 96 years, with a mean age of 41.5 years, and 63% identified as male. Approximately two-thirds (62%) were unemployed or job-seeking during their treatment period, 38% were living alone, and 17% were homeless.

Although most of the study population (84%) was of German nationality, nearly half (48%) had a first- or second-generation migration background, the researchers noted.

“When thinking about effectively targeting this issue it is crucial to consider the different reasons why patients are limited in their ability to communicate,” the researchers wrote in their discussion. “Considering the rising numbers of refugees and persons with a migration background in Germany and many other countries worldwide, it is likely that more and more individuals with a language barrier will present at psychiatric emergency rooms,” they emphasized.

The findings were limited by several factors including the retrospective design, the relatively small number of patients with limitations or complete inability to communicate, and the use of data from a single hospital, and the incomplete data on nonlanguage reasons for limited or no communication ability, the researchers noted. Future studies should include more complete measures for recording these reasons, and data on forced medication, they added.

However, the results were strengthened by the range of sociodemographic, clinical, and admission-related variables in a large and representative sample, and highlight the need for appropriate interventions for patients with communication challenges, they said.

“Adequate financial and human resources need to be allocated to psychiatric hospitals that allow for high quality, available, and accessible interpretation services as well as mobilization of patients’ support networks during and after admission,” they concluded.

The study received no outside funding. The researchers had no financial conflicts to disclose.

Psychiatric patients with impaired communication abilities were significantly more likely to be admitted involuntarily to inpatient care and to experience coercive measures after admission, based on data from more than 1,500 individuals.

Despite improvements in reducing coercive measures in psychiatric inpatient care, both involuntary admission and coercive measures remain in use in many countries worldwide, wrote Celline Cole, MSc, a doctoral candidate at Charité Universitätsmedizin, Berlin, and colleagues. Such measures are considered “severe violations of a person’s rights to self-determination and personal freedom,” they wrote.

Previous studies have identified characteristics that increase the risk of involuntary inpatient admission, but the association between patients’ communication ability and coercive measures has not been explored, they noted.

In a study published in the Journal of Psychiatric Research, the investigators reviewed data from 1,556 adults who were admitted to psychiatric inpatient care at a single center in Germany in 2019. Patients’ communication ability was defined and recorded as one of the following: perfect; limited because of language or other reasons; or impossible because of language or other reasons (no communication).

Overall, 23% of patients were admitted involuntarily; the most common reasons for referral to inpatient care in the study population were physical aggression against individuals (8%) or objects (4%), and verbal aggression (7%). A total of 1,085 patients (70%) were able or willing to communicate.

Patients with limited or no communication ability because of language issues were three to four times more likely to be admitted involuntarily (odds ratios, 3.08 and 4.02, respectively), while those with limited or no communication ability because of nonlanguage issues were even more likely to be admitted involuntarily (ORs, 3.10 and 13.71, respectively), compared with patients without communication problems.

Patients with limited communication ability because of language issues also were significantly more likely than those without communication issues to experience coercive measures (OR, 4.53), as were patients with either limited or no communication ability because of no-language issues (ORs, 1.58 and 3.55, respectively).

Involuntary admission was defined as provisional detention, detention initiated by the patient’s legal guardian followed by a court order, or detention by court order “according to the Mental Health Law of the State of Berlin,” the researchers said. The average length of inpatient stay was 19 days. The age of the patients ranged from 18 to 96 years, with a mean age of 41.5 years, and 63% identified as male. Approximately two-thirds (62%) were unemployed or job-seeking during their treatment period, 38% were living alone, and 17% were homeless.

Although most of the study population (84%) was of German nationality, nearly half (48%) had a first- or second-generation migration background, the researchers noted.

“When thinking about effectively targeting this issue it is crucial to consider the different reasons why patients are limited in their ability to communicate,” the researchers wrote in their discussion. “Considering the rising numbers of refugees and persons with a migration background in Germany and many other countries worldwide, it is likely that more and more individuals with a language barrier will present at psychiatric emergency rooms,” they emphasized.

The findings were limited by several factors including the retrospective design, the relatively small number of patients with limitations or complete inability to communicate, and the use of data from a single hospital, and the incomplete data on nonlanguage reasons for limited or no communication ability, the researchers noted. Future studies should include more complete measures for recording these reasons, and data on forced medication, they added.

However, the results were strengthened by the range of sociodemographic, clinical, and admission-related variables in a large and representative sample, and highlight the need for appropriate interventions for patients with communication challenges, they said.

“Adequate financial and human resources need to be allocated to psychiatric hospitals that allow for high quality, available, and accessible interpretation services as well as mobilization of patients’ support networks during and after admission,” they concluded.

The study received no outside funding. The researchers had no financial conflicts to disclose.

Psychiatric patients with impaired communication abilities were significantly more likely to be admitted involuntarily to inpatient care and to experience coercive measures after admission, based on data from more than 1,500 individuals.

Despite improvements in reducing coercive measures in psychiatric inpatient care, both involuntary admission and coercive measures remain in use in many countries worldwide, wrote Celline Cole, MSc, a doctoral candidate at Charité Universitätsmedizin, Berlin, and colleagues. Such measures are considered “severe violations of a person’s rights to self-determination and personal freedom,” they wrote.

Previous studies have identified characteristics that increase the risk of involuntary inpatient admission, but the association between patients’ communication ability and coercive measures has not been explored, they noted.

In a study published in the Journal of Psychiatric Research, the investigators reviewed data from 1,556 adults who were admitted to psychiatric inpatient care at a single center in Germany in 2019. Patients’ communication ability was defined and recorded as one of the following: perfect; limited because of language or other reasons; or impossible because of language or other reasons (no communication).

Overall, 23% of patients were admitted involuntarily; the most common reasons for referral to inpatient care in the study population were physical aggression against individuals (8%) or objects (4%), and verbal aggression (7%). A total of 1,085 patients (70%) were able or willing to communicate.

Patients with limited or no communication ability because of language issues were three to four times more likely to be admitted involuntarily (odds ratios, 3.08 and 4.02, respectively), while those with limited or no communication ability because of nonlanguage issues were even more likely to be admitted involuntarily (ORs, 3.10 and 13.71, respectively), compared with patients without communication problems.

Patients with limited communication ability because of language issues also were significantly more likely than those without communication issues to experience coercive measures (OR, 4.53), as were patients with either limited or no communication ability because of no-language issues (ORs, 1.58 and 3.55, respectively).

Involuntary admission was defined as provisional detention, detention initiated by the patient’s legal guardian followed by a court order, or detention by court order “according to the Mental Health Law of the State of Berlin,” the researchers said. The average length of inpatient stay was 19 days. The age of the patients ranged from 18 to 96 years, with a mean age of 41.5 years, and 63% identified as male. Approximately two-thirds (62%) were unemployed or job-seeking during their treatment period, 38% were living alone, and 17% were homeless.

Although most of the study population (84%) was of German nationality, nearly half (48%) had a first- or second-generation migration background, the researchers noted.

“When thinking about effectively targeting this issue it is crucial to consider the different reasons why patients are limited in their ability to communicate,” the researchers wrote in their discussion. “Considering the rising numbers of refugees and persons with a migration background in Germany and many other countries worldwide, it is likely that more and more individuals with a language barrier will present at psychiatric emergency rooms,” they emphasized.

The findings were limited by several factors including the retrospective design, the relatively small number of patients with limitations or complete inability to communicate, and the use of data from a single hospital, and the incomplete data on nonlanguage reasons for limited or no communication ability, the researchers noted. Future studies should include more complete measures for recording these reasons, and data on forced medication, they added.

However, the results were strengthened by the range of sociodemographic, clinical, and admission-related variables in a large and representative sample, and highlight the need for appropriate interventions for patients with communication challenges, they said.

“Adequate financial and human resources need to be allocated to psychiatric hospitals that allow for high quality, available, and accessible interpretation services as well as mobilization of patients’ support networks during and after admission,” they concluded.

The study received no outside funding. The researchers had no financial conflicts to disclose.

DENVER – Patients who continued to undergo routine minimally invasive cosmetic procedures during the COVID-19 Omicron outbreak in 2021 were happier and more satisfied with life overall compared with the general population, according to a study of 42 individuals. However, these treatments did not improve their baseline happiness or life satisfaction scores at follow-up.

Those are key findings from the study that lead author Rishi Chopra, MD, MS, presented during an oral abstract session at the annual meeting of the American Society for Dermatologic Surgery.

“These are interesting and surprising results,” said Dr. Chopra, a dermatologist and laser and cosmetic dermatologic surgery fellow at Harvard Medical School and Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. “Patients are seeking consultations with us with the hope that the treatments we offer may potentially help them feel happier, but are we really delivering on that?”

In a pivotal 2018 study that examined patient motivations for undergoing cosmetic dermatology procedures, investigators found that 67.2% did so to “feel happier and more confident or improve total quality of life”. Moreover, 38.5% cited the desire to “feel happier, better overall, or improve total quality of life” as the key reason for pursuing cosmetic procedures.

Prior published evidence validates this benefit of procedures, as neuromodulators have repeatedly demonstrated to improve mood and depression, including a 2020 randomized, single-blind crossover study that examined the impact of neuromodulators on mood and appearance during the COVID-19 pandemic. It found that patients who received treatment with neuromodulators prior to the pandemic, stopped during the pandemic, and restarted again, reported increased happiness, self-satisfaction with appearance, and overall treatment satisfaction.

“However, studies evaluating the effect of filler on happiness have failed to demonstrate an impact,” Dr. Chopra said. “Thus, the jury is still out.”

Study evaluated 42 patients

In what he said is the first study of its kind, he and his colleagues evaluated the impact of minimally invasive cosmetic procedures on the happiness of 42 treatment non-naive patients (those who regularly undergo cosmetic procedures) with a mean age of 47 years who were surveyed in November and December of 2021 during the COVID-19 Omicron subvariant outbreak at the cosmetic dermatology practices of Sabrina G. Fabi, MD, in San Diego, and Nicole Kanaris, MBBCh, in Johannesburg, South Africa.

“On average, these patients were undergoing six treatments per year during four visits per year, so these were frequent flyers,” Dr. Chopra said. “We set out to assess: Are patients who seek cosmetic procedures happy at baseline? And, do cosmetic procedures make us happier or more satisfied with life?”

Prior to treatment, patients completed the Subjective Happiness Scale (SHS) and Satisfaction With Life Scale (SWLS). Three weeks later, patients completed the SHS, SWLS, the Global Aesthetic Improvement Scale (GAIS) and a 5-point satisfaction score. The researchers used paired and unpaired t-tests, independent sample t-tests, and Spearman rank correlations to conduct statistical analyses.

The baseline SHS score of study participants was an average of 5.87, which Dr. Chopra said is higher than the worldwide population range between 4.57 and 5.33, and 5.05 in the U.S. population. “The patients in our study were very happy to begin with,” an important point to consider, he said. Following their treatments, respondents felt “improved” or “much improved” on the GAIS (a mean score of 3.64) and “somewhat satisfied” or “very satisfied” based on the SWLS (a mean score of 4.4). “So overall, they viewed their treatments as a success,” Dr. Chopra said.

In terms of happiness, however, the researchers observed no significant differences between pre- and posttreatment scores on the SHS (a mean of 5.87 vs. 6.61, respectively; P = .634) nor on the SWLS (a mean of 29.62 vs. 29.1; P = .709). On stratified analysis, no significant differences in the SHS, SWLS, and the GAIS were observed when the researchers accounted for the aggressiveness of the procedure, the number of treatments, the number of sites treated, the type of treatment, and whether the respondents were happier or sadder at baseline. “Surprisingly, this had no effect whatsoever on happiness,” he said. “Not only that, these factors didn’t improve a patient’s perception of the efficacy or satisfaction with a treatment either.”

“In addition, only two locations were surveyed, so the results could have location bias. I think it would be a great idea to replicate this survey of experienced cosmetic treatment patients with many locations and to include survey responses based on the procedure that was done. That said, it is interesting that overall, investigator satisfaction did not correlate with patient happiness from the treatments.”

Dr. Chopra reported having no financial disclosures. Dr. Green disclosed that he is a speaker, consultant, or investigator for numerous pharmaceutical companies.

DENVER – Patients who continued to undergo routine minimally invasive cosmetic procedures during the COVID-19 Omicron outbreak in 2021 were happier and more satisfied with life overall compared with the general population, according to a study of 42 individuals. However, these treatments did not improve their baseline happiness or life satisfaction scores at follow-up.

Those are key findings from the study that lead author Rishi Chopra, MD, MS, presented during an oral abstract session at the annual meeting of the American Society for Dermatologic Surgery.

“These are interesting and surprising results,” said Dr. Chopra, a dermatologist and laser and cosmetic dermatologic surgery fellow at Harvard Medical School and Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. “Patients are seeking consultations with us with the hope that the treatments we offer may potentially help them feel happier, but are we really delivering on that?”

In a pivotal 2018 study that examined patient motivations for undergoing cosmetic dermatology procedures, investigators found that 67.2% did so to “feel happier and more confident or improve total quality of life”. Moreover, 38.5% cited the desire to “feel happier, better overall, or improve total quality of life” as the key reason for pursuing cosmetic procedures.

Prior published evidence validates this benefit of procedures, as neuromodulators have repeatedly demonstrated to improve mood and depression, including a 2020 randomized, single-blind crossover study that examined the impact of neuromodulators on mood and appearance during the COVID-19 pandemic. It found that patients who received treatment with neuromodulators prior to the pandemic, stopped during the pandemic, and restarted again, reported increased happiness, self-satisfaction with appearance, and overall treatment satisfaction.

“However, studies evaluating the effect of filler on happiness have failed to demonstrate an impact,” Dr. Chopra said. “Thus, the jury is still out.”

Study evaluated 42 patients

In what he said is the first study of its kind, he and his colleagues evaluated the impact of minimally invasive cosmetic procedures on the happiness of 42 treatment non-naive patients (those who regularly undergo cosmetic procedures) with a mean age of 47 years who were surveyed in November and December of 2021 during the COVID-19 Omicron subvariant outbreak at the cosmetic dermatology practices of Sabrina G. Fabi, MD, in San Diego, and Nicole Kanaris, MBBCh, in Johannesburg, South Africa.

“On average, these patients were undergoing six treatments per year during four visits per year, so these were frequent flyers,” Dr. Chopra said. “We set out to assess: Are patients who seek cosmetic procedures happy at baseline? And, do cosmetic procedures make us happier or more satisfied with life?”

Prior to treatment, patients completed the Subjective Happiness Scale (SHS) and Satisfaction With Life Scale (SWLS). Three weeks later, patients completed the SHS, SWLS, the Global Aesthetic Improvement Scale (GAIS) and a 5-point satisfaction score. The researchers used paired and unpaired t-tests, independent sample t-tests, and Spearman rank correlations to conduct statistical analyses.

The baseline SHS score of study participants was an average of 5.87, which Dr. Chopra said is higher than the worldwide population range between 4.57 and 5.33, and 5.05 in the U.S. population. “The patients in our study were very happy to begin with,” an important point to consider, he said. Following their treatments, respondents felt “improved” or “much improved” on the GAIS (a mean score of 3.64) and “somewhat satisfied” or “very satisfied” based on the SWLS (a mean score of 4.4). “So overall, they viewed their treatments as a success,” Dr. Chopra said.

In terms of happiness, however, the researchers observed no significant differences between pre- and posttreatment scores on the SHS (a mean of 5.87 vs. 6.61, respectively; P = .634) nor on the SWLS (a mean of 29.62 vs. 29.1; P = .709). On stratified analysis, no significant differences in the SHS, SWLS, and the GAIS were observed when the researchers accounted for the aggressiveness of the procedure, the number of treatments, the number of sites treated, the type of treatment, and whether the respondents were happier or sadder at baseline. “Surprisingly, this had no effect whatsoever on happiness,” he said. “Not only that, these factors didn’t improve a patient’s perception of the efficacy or satisfaction with a treatment either.”

“In addition, only two locations were surveyed, so the results could have location bias. I think it would be a great idea to replicate this survey of experienced cosmetic treatment patients with many locations and to include survey responses based on the procedure that was done. That said, it is interesting that overall, investigator satisfaction did not correlate with patient happiness from the treatments.”

Dr. Chopra reported having no financial disclosures. Dr. Green disclosed that he is a speaker, consultant, or investigator for numerous pharmaceutical companies.

DENVER – Patients who continued to undergo routine minimally invasive cosmetic procedures during the COVID-19 Omicron outbreak in 2021 were happier and more satisfied with life overall compared with the general population, according to a study of 42 individuals. However, these treatments did not improve their baseline happiness or life satisfaction scores at follow-up.

Those are key findings from the study that lead author Rishi Chopra, MD, MS, presented during an oral abstract session at the annual meeting of the American Society for Dermatologic Surgery.

“These are interesting and surprising results,” said Dr. Chopra, a dermatologist and laser and cosmetic dermatologic surgery fellow at Harvard Medical School and Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. “Patients are seeking consultations with us with the hope that the treatments we offer may potentially help them feel happier, but are we really delivering on that?”

In a pivotal 2018 study that examined patient motivations for undergoing cosmetic dermatology procedures, investigators found that 67.2% did so to “feel happier and more confident or improve total quality of life”. Moreover, 38.5% cited the desire to “feel happier, better overall, or improve total quality of life” as the key reason for pursuing cosmetic procedures.

Prior published evidence validates this benefit of procedures, as neuromodulators have repeatedly demonstrated to improve mood and depression, including a 2020 randomized, single-blind crossover study that examined the impact of neuromodulators on mood and appearance during the COVID-19 pandemic. It found that patients who received treatment with neuromodulators prior to the pandemic, stopped during the pandemic, and restarted again, reported increased happiness, self-satisfaction with appearance, and overall treatment satisfaction.

“However, studies evaluating the effect of filler on happiness have failed to demonstrate an impact,” Dr. Chopra said. “Thus, the jury is still out.”

Study evaluated 42 patients

In what he said is the first study of its kind, he and his colleagues evaluated the impact of minimally invasive cosmetic procedures on the happiness of 42 treatment non-naive patients (those who regularly undergo cosmetic procedures) with a mean age of 47 years who were surveyed in November and December of 2021 during the COVID-19 Omicron subvariant outbreak at the cosmetic dermatology practices of Sabrina G. Fabi, MD, in San Diego, and Nicole Kanaris, MBBCh, in Johannesburg, South Africa.

“On average, these patients were undergoing six treatments per year during four visits per year, so these were frequent flyers,” Dr. Chopra said. “We set out to assess: Are patients who seek cosmetic procedures happy at baseline? And, do cosmetic procedures make us happier or more satisfied with life?”

Prior to treatment, patients completed the Subjective Happiness Scale (SHS) and Satisfaction With Life Scale (SWLS). Three weeks later, patients completed the SHS, SWLS, the Global Aesthetic Improvement Scale (GAIS) and a 5-point satisfaction score. The researchers used paired and unpaired t-tests, independent sample t-tests, and Spearman rank correlations to conduct statistical analyses.

The baseline SHS score of study participants was an average of 5.87, which Dr. Chopra said is higher than the worldwide population range between 4.57 and 5.33, and 5.05 in the U.S. population. “The patients in our study were very happy to begin with,” an important point to consider, he said. Following their treatments, respondents felt “improved” or “much improved” on the GAIS (a mean score of 3.64) and “somewhat satisfied” or “very satisfied” based on the SWLS (a mean score of 4.4). “So overall, they viewed their treatments as a success,” Dr. Chopra said.

In terms of happiness, however, the researchers observed no significant differences between pre- and posttreatment scores on the SHS (a mean of 5.87 vs. 6.61, respectively; P = .634) nor on the SWLS (a mean of 29.62 vs. 29.1; P = .709). On stratified analysis, no significant differences in the SHS, SWLS, and the GAIS were observed when the researchers accounted for the aggressiveness of the procedure, the number of treatments, the number of sites treated, the type of treatment, and whether the respondents were happier or sadder at baseline. “Surprisingly, this had no effect whatsoever on happiness,” he said. “Not only that, these factors didn’t improve a patient’s perception of the efficacy or satisfaction with a treatment either.”

“In addition, only two locations were surveyed, so the results could have location bias. I think it would be a great idea to replicate this survey of experienced cosmetic treatment patients with many locations and to include survey responses based on the procedure that was done. That said, it is interesting that overall, investigator satisfaction did not correlate with patient happiness from the treatments.”

Dr. Chopra reported having no financial disclosures. Dr. Green disclosed that he is a speaker, consultant, or investigator for numerous pharmaceutical companies.

Smokers who quit before age 35 showed a "substantial" reduction in risk, compared with people who never smoked, according to a new national study.

Researchers also quantified the benefit of quitting for those older than 35. The added risk of death associated with smoking was reduced by 90% for those who quit before age 45 and 66% for those who quit at ages 45 to 64.

“The distal nature of the health consequences for young smokers is a challenge for professionals trying to motivate quitting in younger age groups. Without a proximal goal, it is tempting for smokers to abandon a quit attempt with cognitions such as ‘I don’t really need to do it just now,’ ” John P. Pierce, PhD, director for Population Sciences at UC-San Diego’s Moores Cancer Center, wrote in a commentary. 

Current smokers were twice as likely to die from any cause during the study, compared with the group researchers called “never smokers,” who were defined as smoking fewer than 100 lifetime cigarettes. 

Published in JAMA Network Open, the study involved 551,388 U.S. participants using information collected by the CDC from 1997 to 2018. Researchers collected data for specific causes of death of participants through the end of 2019.

The results echo past findings but also established whether demographic factors such as a smoker’s race and gender impact the benefits of quitting. (In many areas of health research, a person’s race or gender is associated with varying risks.)

The researchers found that the benefits of quitting smoking in reducing risk of death are comparable across demographic groups.

“Among former smokers in each racial and ethnic group, whether male or female, quitting was associated with reductions of approximately 80% of the excess mortality associated with continued smoking,” the authors stated. “These associations were generally consistent for deaths from cancer, cardiovascular disease, and lower respiratory disease.”

The findings are also important for guiding stop-smoking efforts because while smoking nationwide has decreased, the reduction has varied across demographic groups.

“Monitoring the association of smoking with mortality by race, ethnicity, and sex is critical to understanding how the U.S. tobacco epidemic continues to evolve over time and who is most affected by the changes,” the authors stated. “Despite continued decreases in U.S. smoking prevalence in recent decades, progress has not been equal across demographic groups. Recent progress in raising the quit ratio among U.S. ever-smokers overall has been modest, and the quit ratio has been consistently lower among Black and Hispanic ever-smokers than among non-Hispanic White ever-smokers.”

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

This article was updated 10/27/22.

Smokers who quit before age 35 showed a "substantial" reduction in risk, compared with people who never smoked, according to a new national study.

Researchers also quantified the benefit of quitting for those older than 35. The added risk of death associated with smoking was reduced by 90% for those who quit before age 45 and 66% for those who quit at ages 45 to 64.

“The distal nature of the health consequences for young smokers is a challenge for professionals trying to motivate quitting in younger age groups. Without a proximal goal, it is tempting for smokers to abandon a quit attempt with cognitions such as ‘I don’t really need to do it just now,’ ” John P. Pierce, PhD, director for Population Sciences at UC-San Diego’s Moores Cancer Center, wrote in a commentary. 

Current smokers were twice as likely to die from any cause during the study, compared with the group researchers called “never smokers,” who were defined as smoking fewer than 100 lifetime cigarettes. 

Published in JAMA Network Open, the study involved 551,388 U.S. participants using information collected by the CDC from 1997 to 2018. Researchers collected data for specific causes of death of participants through the end of 2019.

The results echo past findings but also established whether demographic factors such as a smoker’s race and gender impact the benefits of quitting. (In many areas of health research, a person’s race or gender is associated with varying risks.)

The researchers found that the benefits of quitting smoking in reducing risk of death are comparable across demographic groups.

“Among former smokers in each racial and ethnic group, whether male or female, quitting was associated with reductions of approximately 80% of the excess mortality associated with continued smoking,” the authors stated. “These associations were generally consistent for deaths from cancer, cardiovascular disease, and lower respiratory disease.”

The findings are also important for guiding stop-smoking efforts because while smoking nationwide has decreased, the reduction has varied across demographic groups.

“Monitoring the association of smoking with mortality by race, ethnicity, and sex is critical to understanding how the U.S. tobacco epidemic continues to evolve over time and who is most affected by the changes,” the authors stated. “Despite continued decreases in U.S. smoking prevalence in recent decades, progress has not been equal across demographic groups. Recent progress in raising the quit ratio among U.S. ever-smokers overall has been modest, and the quit ratio has been consistently lower among Black and Hispanic ever-smokers than among non-Hispanic White ever-smokers.”

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

This article was updated 10/27/22.

Smokers who quit before age 35 showed a "substantial" reduction in risk, compared with people who never smoked, according to a new national study.

Researchers also quantified the benefit of quitting for those older than 35. The added risk of death associated with smoking was reduced by 90% for those who quit before age 45 and 66% for those who quit at ages 45 to 64.

“The distal nature of the health consequences for young smokers is a challenge for professionals trying to motivate quitting in younger age groups. Without a proximal goal, it is tempting for smokers to abandon a quit attempt with cognitions such as ‘I don’t really need to do it just now,’ ” John P. Pierce, PhD, director for Population Sciences at UC-San Diego’s Moores Cancer Center, wrote in a commentary. 

Current smokers were twice as likely to die from any cause during the study, compared with the group researchers called “never smokers,” who were defined as smoking fewer than 100 lifetime cigarettes. 

Published in JAMA Network Open, the study involved 551,388 U.S. participants using information collected by the CDC from 1997 to 2018. Researchers collected data for specific causes of death of participants through the end of 2019.

The results echo past findings but also established whether demographic factors such as a smoker’s race and gender impact the benefits of quitting. (In many areas of health research, a person’s race or gender is associated with varying risks.)

The researchers found that the benefits of quitting smoking in reducing risk of death are comparable across demographic groups.

“Among former smokers in each racial and ethnic group, whether male or female, quitting was associated with reductions of approximately 80% of the excess mortality associated with continued smoking,” the authors stated. “These associations were generally consistent for deaths from cancer, cardiovascular disease, and lower respiratory disease.”

The findings are also important for guiding stop-smoking efforts because while smoking nationwide has decreased, the reduction has varied across demographic groups.

“Monitoring the association of smoking with mortality by race, ethnicity, and sex is critical to understanding how the U.S. tobacco epidemic continues to evolve over time and who is most affected by the changes,” the authors stated. “Despite continued decreases in U.S. smoking prevalence in recent decades, progress has not been equal across demographic groups. Recent progress in raising the quit ratio among U.S. ever-smokers overall has been modest, and the quit ratio has been consistently lower among Black and Hispanic ever-smokers than among non-Hispanic White ever-smokers.”

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

This article was updated 10/27/22.

“We eat first with our eyes.” 

The Roman foodie Apicius is thought to have uttered those words in the 1st century A.D. Now, some 2,000 years later, scientists may be proving him right. 

Massachusetts Institute of Technology researchers have discovered a previously unknown part of the brain that lights up when we see food. Dubbed the “ventral food component,” this part resides in the brain’s visual cortex, in a region known to play a role in identifying faces, scenes, and words. 

The study, published in the journal Current Biology, involved using artificial intelligence (AI) technology to build a computer model of this part of the brain. Similar models are emerging across fields of research to simulate and study complex systems of the body. A computer model of the digestive system was recently used to determine the best body position for taking a pill. 

“The research is still cutting-edge,” says study author Meenakshi Khosla, PhD. “There’s a lot more to be done to understand whether this region is the same or different in different individuals, and how it is modulated by experience or familiarity with different kinds of foods.”

Pinpointing those differences could provide insights into how people choose what they eat, or even help us learn what drives eating disorders, Dr. Khosla says. 

Part of what makes this study unique was the researchers’ approach, dubbed “hypothesis neutral.” Instead of setting out to prove or disprove a firm hypothesis, they simply started exploring the data to see what they could find. The goal: To go beyond “the idiosyncratic hypotheses scientists have already thought to test,” the paper says. So, they began sifting through a public database called the Natural Scenes Dataset, an inventory of brain scans from eight volunteers viewing 56,720 images. 

As expected, the software analyzing the dataset spotted brain regions already known to be triggered by images of faces, bodies, words, and scenes. But to the researchers’ surprise, the analysis also revealed a previously unknown part of the brain that seemed to be responding to images of food. 

“Our first reaction was, ‘That’s cute and all, but it can’t possibly be true,’ ” Dr. Khosla says. 

To confirm their discovery, the researchers used the data to train a computer model of this part of the brain, a process that takes less than an hour. Then they fed the model more than 1.2 million new images. 

Sure enough, the model lit up in response to food. Color didn’t matter – even black-and-white food images triggered it, though not as strongly as color ones. And the model could tell the difference between food and objects that looked like food: a banana versus a crescent moon, or a blueberry muffin versus a puppy with a muffin-like face. 

From the human data, the researchers found that some people responded slightly more to processed foods like pizza than unprocessed foods like apples. They hope to explore how other things, such as liking or disliking a food, may affect a person’s response to that food. 

This technology could open up other areas of research as well. Dr. Khosla hopes to use it to explore how the brain responds to social cues like body language and facial expressions. 

For now, Dr. Khosla has already begun to verify the computer model in real people by scanning the brains of a new set of volunteers. “We collected pilot data in a few subjects recently and were able to localize this component,” she says. 

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

“We eat first with our eyes.” 

The Roman foodie Apicius is thought to have uttered those words in the 1st century A.D. Now, some 2,000 years later, scientists may be proving him right. 

Massachusetts Institute of Technology researchers have discovered a previously unknown part of the brain that lights up when we see food. Dubbed the “ventral food component,” this part resides in the brain’s visual cortex, in a region known to play a role in identifying faces, scenes, and words. 

The study, published in the journal Current Biology, involved using artificial intelligence (AI) technology to build a computer model of this part of the brain. Similar models are emerging across fields of research to simulate and study complex systems of the body. A computer model of the digestive system was recently used to determine the best body position for taking a pill. 

“The research is still cutting-edge,” says study author Meenakshi Khosla, PhD. “There’s a lot more to be done to understand whether this region is the same or different in different individuals, and how it is modulated by experience or familiarity with different kinds of foods.”

Pinpointing those differences could provide insights into how people choose what they eat, or even help us learn what drives eating disorders, Dr. Khosla says. 

Part of what makes this study unique was the researchers’ approach, dubbed “hypothesis neutral.” Instead of setting out to prove or disprove a firm hypothesis, they simply started exploring the data to see what they could find. The goal: To go beyond “the idiosyncratic hypotheses scientists have already thought to test,” the paper says. So, they began sifting through a public database called the Natural Scenes Dataset, an inventory of brain scans from eight volunteers viewing 56,720 images. 

As expected, the software analyzing the dataset spotted brain regions already known to be triggered by images of faces, bodies, words, and scenes. But to the researchers’ surprise, the analysis also revealed a previously unknown part of the brain that seemed to be responding to images of food. 

“Our first reaction was, ‘That’s cute and all, but it can’t possibly be true,’ ” Dr. Khosla says. 

To confirm their discovery, the researchers used the data to train a computer model of this part of the brain, a process that takes less than an hour. Then they fed the model more than 1.2 million new images. 

Sure enough, the model lit up in response to food. Color didn’t matter – even black-and-white food images triggered it, though not as strongly as color ones. And the model could tell the difference between food and objects that looked like food: a banana versus a crescent moon, or a blueberry muffin versus a puppy with a muffin-like face. 

From the human data, the researchers found that some people responded slightly more to processed foods like pizza than unprocessed foods like apples. They hope to explore how other things, such as liking or disliking a food, may affect a person’s response to that food. 

This technology could open up other areas of research as well. Dr. Khosla hopes to use it to explore how the brain responds to social cues like body language and facial expressions. 

For now, Dr. Khosla has already begun to verify the computer model in real people by scanning the brains of a new set of volunteers. “We collected pilot data in a few subjects recently and were able to localize this component,” she says. 

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

“We eat first with our eyes.” 

The Roman foodie Apicius is thought to have uttered those words in the 1st century A.D. Now, some 2,000 years later, scientists may be proving him right. 

Massachusetts Institute of Technology researchers have discovered a previously unknown part of the brain that lights up when we see food. Dubbed the “ventral food component,” this part resides in the brain’s visual cortex, in a region known to play a role in identifying faces, scenes, and words. 

The study, published in the journal Current Biology, involved using artificial intelligence (AI) technology to build a computer model of this part of the brain. Similar models are emerging across fields of research to simulate and study complex systems of the body. A computer model of the digestive system was recently used to determine the best body position for taking a pill. 

“The research is still cutting-edge,” says study author Meenakshi Khosla, PhD. “There’s a lot more to be done to understand whether this region is the same or different in different individuals, and how it is modulated by experience or familiarity with different kinds of foods.”

Pinpointing those differences could provide insights into how people choose what they eat, or even help us learn what drives eating disorders, Dr. Khosla says. 

Part of what makes this study unique was the researchers’ approach, dubbed “hypothesis neutral.” Instead of setting out to prove or disprove a firm hypothesis, they simply started exploring the data to see what they could find. The goal: To go beyond “the idiosyncratic hypotheses scientists have already thought to test,” the paper says. So, they began sifting through a public database called the Natural Scenes Dataset, an inventory of brain scans from eight volunteers viewing 56,720 images. 

As expected, the software analyzing the dataset spotted brain regions already known to be triggered by images of faces, bodies, words, and scenes. But to the researchers’ surprise, the analysis also revealed a previously unknown part of the brain that seemed to be responding to images of food. 

“Our first reaction was, ‘That’s cute and all, but it can’t possibly be true,’ ” Dr. Khosla says. 

To confirm their discovery, the researchers used the data to train a computer model of this part of the brain, a process that takes less than an hour. Then they fed the model more than 1.2 million new images. 

Sure enough, the model lit up in response to food. Color didn’t matter – even black-and-white food images triggered it, though not as strongly as color ones. And the model could tell the difference between food and objects that looked like food: a banana versus a crescent moon, or a blueberry muffin versus a puppy with a muffin-like face. 

From the human data, the researchers found that some people responded slightly more to processed foods like pizza than unprocessed foods like apples. They hope to explore how other things, such as liking or disliking a food, may affect a person’s response to that food. 

This technology could open up other areas of research as well. Dr. Khosla hopes to use it to explore how the brain responds to social cues like body language and facial expressions. 

For now, Dr. Khosla has already begun to verify the computer model in real people by scanning the brains of a new set of volunteers. “We collected pilot data in a few subjects recently and were able to localize this component,” she says. 

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

Masks can be scary on Halloween, but more so when they come with scrubs, scalpels, and God complexes. In March, Medscape readers chose their favorite characters and performers in the Hollywood health care system. As a Halloween treat, we follow up with a dozen of our favorite Evil Doctors from a deep bench (and no, Dr Evil didn’t go to medical school; neither did Dr No, for that matter). Before you see these folks who’d rather haunt than heal, we urge you to seek a second opinion.

George Harris (Richard Widmark, “Coma,” 1978)

“Medicine is now a great social force,” says Dr. George Harris (Richard Widmark), chief of surgery at Boston Memorial. Because the public trusts doctors, “we’ll make the hard decisions” – like choosing which young, healthy patients to put into an irreversible coma to harvest their organs. Harris’ audience of one here is Dr. Susan Wheeler (Genevieve Bujold), the upstart who has uncovered his plot, and whom Harris has just drugged to prepare her as his next unintentional donor. “Coma” was based on a bestseller by Robin Cook and directed by Michael Crichton, who left Harvard Medical School for a career in popular books and films, including “The Andromeda Strain” and “Jurassic Park.” Although Dr. Harris starts out as a reassuring friend and mentor to Dr. Wheeler, older moviegoers won’t forget that he launched to stardom by tossing a woman in a wheelchair down the stairs in 1947’s “Kiss of Death.”
 

Christian Szell (Laurence Olivier, “Marathon Man,” 1976)

He may look harmless, but Christian Szell (Laurence Olivier) is a sadist with a secret, a stash, and throat-slitting skills. Szell, a dentist known as the White Angel of Auschwitz for his war crimes, stops at nothing to protect the diamonds he stole from his victims in the camps. In one of Hollywood’s most infamous torture scenes, Szell tries to extract information from Babe Levy (Dustin Hoffman), an innocent grad student, plying the tools of his trade. When Szell asks, “Is it safe?” he’s not curious about whether Babe’s insurance covers anesthesia.

Orin Scrivello (Steve Martin, “Little Shop of Horrors,” 1986)

Sticking with deranged dentists, Orin Scrivello, DDS, (Steve Martin) sings and dances his way into your nightmares buoyed by copious helpings of nitrous oxide. Orin’s too-encouraging momma told him to parlay his sadistic tendencies into a career “where people will pay you to be inhumane.” Sonny listened. Moviegoers were treated to screeching sound effects of a tooth getting yanked during an Elvis-like musical number shot in part from inside a patient’s mouth. Martin makes a creepy scene more fun than a long, slow root canal.

Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive, “Frankenstein,” 1931)

His alarming need for fresh corpses forced Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) to leave medical school and experiment solo in a castle. He insists to his betrothed that he hasn’t gone mad when she arrives as  he is bringing a dead body back to life during a raging lightning storm. When she and Henry’s mentor, Dr Waldman, witness him succeed, Waldman warns Henry that the former owner of the purloined brain was a notorious criminal. When Henry exclaims: “It’s alive, it’s alive !” little did he know that he created the face (Boris Karloff) that would launch a thousand sequels, a spectacular satire, and untold Halloween masks.

Dr. Gogol (Peter Lorre, “Mad Love,” 1935)

A few years after playing doctor Frankenstein, Colin Clive became the patient of a mad medic himself. A concert pianist whose hands have been mangled in a train wreck, Clive’s wife turns to Dr. Gogol (Peter Lorre, in his Hollywood debut), who promises to surgically reattach the musician’s hands. Unfortunately, Gogol is so obsessed with the wife, a star of gory stage shows, that he has created a wax figure of her. He schemes to win her in the flesh by attaching a murderer’s hands to Clive, then frame him for committing murder with those hands. Gogol utters the madman’s lament: “I have conquered science. Why can’t I conquer love?” A modern remake would surely have him asking, “Why do they swipe left?

Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins, “Silence of the Lambs,” 1991)

The FBI, hunting for a serial killer, sends trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) to seek insight into the murderer from the imprisoned Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), a brilliant psychiatrist with a penchant for murder — and a taste for the flesh of his victims. Lecter proves to be a menace from their first meeting; the bars and glass surrounding his cell offer Clarice no protection from his gaze and ability to read her mind. In his own way, the urbane, pathologically charming Lecter takes a shine to Clarice, helping with the case while embarking on another murderous spree against men who recently wronged her. When he escapes, his plans do not include dinner with – or of – Clarice, but others, well, they’re not so lucky.

Henry Jekyll (Fredric March, “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” 1931)

Henry Jekyll (Fredric March) is a jumble of personalities. By day, he’s a kindly doctor in Victorian London with an American accent. But he is so determined to split good and evil personalities that he devises a potion to outsource his id. As he watches himself morph into Mr. Hyde – a hairy, cone-headed dude in serious need of an orthodontist – he exclaims, “Free! Free at last!” Free, that is, for his simian side to engage in debauchery, abuse, self-hatred, intimations of rape, and ultimately murder – all of which are explored in this pre-Code film, the first talkie version of Robert Louis Stevenson’s story.

Dr. Moreau (Charles Laughton, “Island of Lost Souls,” 1932)

“Strange-looking natives you have here,” shipwreck victim Edward Parker (Richard Arlen) tells his host, the white-suited, whip-wielding Dr Moreau. Before long, we learn that Moreau’s evil veterinary talents  have created an island population of human/beast hybrids who are forced to follow his laws – especially one forbidding them from eating meat or walking on all fours. Lawbreakers get taken to the House of Pain, a medical setting which, as its name suggests, lacks adequate analgesia. Burt Lancaster and Marlon Brando took on the Moreau role in later versions, but Laughton is the creepiest when he asks, “Do you know what it means to feel like God?” The film was banned for years in Britain, and H.G. Wells despised this take on his antivivisection tale.

Charles Nichols (Jeroen Krabbé, “The Fugitive,” 1993)

Richard Kimble, a Chicago vascular surgeon, arrives home to find that a man just brutally murdered his loving wife. The killer escapes, and Kimble falls into the frame-up. Convicted for the murder and headed to prison, Kimble breaks free in an epic escape scene. He spends the rest of the movie all but giving his right arm to find the murderer, while being pursued by a dogged U.S. Marshal played with gusto by Tommy Lee Jones. Kimble eventually discovers that his colleague, Dr. Charles Nichols (Jeroen Krabbé), is not quite the best friend a man could have – or the most ethical of clinical investigators.

Elliot and Beverly Mantle (Jeremy Irons, “Dead Ringers,” 1988)

“You’ve got to try the movie star,” fertility specialist Elliot Mantle (Jeremy Irons) implores to his identical but meek twin brother, Beverly (also Jeremy Irons), talking about an actress-patient (Genevieve Bujold) as if she were a menu item. Beverly shares a practice with Elliot, along with a soul and an easily satisfied drug addiction. Beverly is unaware that Elliot seduces patients before passing them off to his brother, including the actress. Beverly is in love with the actress, which upsets the equilibrium of their shared soul. He aims to fix this, but not without some trauma involving freakish and unsanitary operating implements.

Dean Armitage (Bradley Whitford, “Get Out,” 2017)

Neurosurgeon Dean Armitage (Bradley Whitford) was such a fan of President Obama that he would have voted for him a third time if he could. At least, that’s how he portrays himself to Chris (Daniel Kaluuya), an African American photographer and the new boyfriend of Armitage’s White daughter. The Armitage estate has plenty of people of color – on staff, anyway – but Chris finds them odd and distant. It turns out that a gathering of rich White people is in fact an auction for his eyesight. Horror ensues. The main message from this film is not unlike that of Russian operatives who fall out of favor with the Kremlin: Don’t drink the tea.

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

Masks can be scary on Halloween, but more so when they come with scrubs, scalpels, and God complexes. In March, Medscape readers chose their favorite characters and performers in the Hollywood health care system. As a Halloween treat, we follow up with a dozen of our favorite Evil Doctors from a deep bench (and no, Dr Evil didn’t go to medical school; neither did Dr No, for that matter). Before you see these folks who’d rather haunt than heal, we urge you to seek a second opinion.

George Harris (Richard Widmark, “Coma,” 1978)

“Medicine is now a great social force,” says Dr. George Harris (Richard Widmark), chief of surgery at Boston Memorial. Because the public trusts doctors, “we’ll make the hard decisions” – like choosing which young, healthy patients to put into an irreversible coma to harvest their organs. Harris’ audience of one here is Dr. Susan Wheeler (Genevieve Bujold), the upstart who has uncovered his plot, and whom Harris has just drugged to prepare her as his next unintentional donor. “Coma” was based on a bestseller by Robin Cook and directed by Michael Crichton, who left Harvard Medical School for a career in popular books and films, including “The Andromeda Strain” and “Jurassic Park.” Although Dr. Harris starts out as a reassuring friend and mentor to Dr. Wheeler, older moviegoers won’t forget that he launched to stardom by tossing a woman in a wheelchair down the stairs in 1947’s “Kiss of Death.”
 

Christian Szell (Laurence Olivier, “Marathon Man,” 1976)

He may look harmless, but Christian Szell (Laurence Olivier) is a sadist with a secret, a stash, and throat-slitting skills. Szell, a dentist known as the White Angel of Auschwitz for his war crimes, stops at nothing to protect the diamonds he stole from his victims in the camps. In one of Hollywood’s most infamous torture scenes, Szell tries to extract information from Babe Levy (Dustin Hoffman), an innocent grad student, plying the tools of his trade. When Szell asks, “Is it safe?” he’s not curious about whether Babe’s insurance covers anesthesia.

Orin Scrivello (Steve Martin, “Little Shop of Horrors,” 1986)

Sticking with deranged dentists, Orin Scrivello, DDS, (Steve Martin) sings and dances his way into your nightmares buoyed by copious helpings of nitrous oxide. Orin’s too-encouraging momma told him to parlay his sadistic tendencies into a career “where people will pay you to be inhumane.” Sonny listened. Moviegoers were treated to screeching sound effects of a tooth getting yanked during an Elvis-like musical number shot in part from inside a patient’s mouth. Martin makes a creepy scene more fun than a long, slow root canal.

Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive, “Frankenstein,” 1931)

His alarming need for fresh corpses forced Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) to leave medical school and experiment solo in a castle. He insists to his betrothed that he hasn’t gone mad when she arrives as  he is bringing a dead body back to life during a raging lightning storm. When she and Henry’s mentor, Dr Waldman, witness him succeed, Waldman warns Henry that the former owner of the purloined brain was a notorious criminal. When Henry exclaims: “It’s alive, it’s alive !” little did he know that he created the face (Boris Karloff) that would launch a thousand sequels, a spectacular satire, and untold Halloween masks.

Dr. Gogol (Peter Lorre, “Mad Love,” 1935)

A few years after playing doctor Frankenstein, Colin Clive became the patient of a mad medic himself. A concert pianist whose hands have been mangled in a train wreck, Clive’s wife turns to Dr. Gogol (Peter Lorre, in his Hollywood debut), who promises to surgically reattach the musician’s hands. Unfortunately, Gogol is so obsessed with the wife, a star of gory stage shows, that he has created a wax figure of her. He schemes to win her in the flesh by attaching a murderer’s hands to Clive, then frame him for committing murder with those hands. Gogol utters the madman’s lament: “I have conquered science. Why can’t I conquer love?” A modern remake would surely have him asking, “Why do they swipe left?

Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins, “Silence of the Lambs,” 1991)

The FBI, hunting for a serial killer, sends trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) to seek insight into the murderer from the imprisoned Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), a brilliant psychiatrist with a penchant for murder — and a taste for the flesh of his victims. Lecter proves to be a menace from their first meeting; the bars and glass surrounding his cell offer Clarice no protection from his gaze and ability to read her mind. In his own way, the urbane, pathologically charming Lecter takes a shine to Clarice, helping with the case while embarking on another murderous spree against men who recently wronged her. When he escapes, his plans do not include dinner with – or of – Clarice, but others, well, they’re not so lucky.

Henry Jekyll (Fredric March, “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” 1931)

Henry Jekyll (Fredric March) is a jumble of personalities. By day, he’s a kindly doctor in Victorian London with an American accent. But he is so determined to split good and evil personalities that he devises a potion to outsource his id. As he watches himself morph into Mr. Hyde – a hairy, cone-headed dude in serious need of an orthodontist – he exclaims, “Free! Free at last!” Free, that is, for his simian side to engage in debauchery, abuse, self-hatred, intimations of rape, and ultimately murder – all of which are explored in this pre-Code film, the first talkie version of Robert Louis Stevenson’s story.

Dr. Moreau (Charles Laughton, “Island of Lost Souls,” 1932)

“Strange-looking natives you have here,” shipwreck victim Edward Parker (Richard Arlen) tells his host, the white-suited, whip-wielding Dr Moreau. Before long, we learn that Moreau’s evil veterinary talents  have created an island population of human/beast hybrids who are forced to follow his laws – especially one forbidding them from eating meat or walking on all fours. Lawbreakers get taken to the House of Pain, a medical setting which, as its name suggests, lacks adequate analgesia. Burt Lancaster and Marlon Brando took on the Moreau role in later versions, but Laughton is the creepiest when he asks, “Do you know what it means to feel like God?” The film was banned for years in Britain, and H.G. Wells despised this take on his antivivisection tale.

Charles Nichols (Jeroen Krabbé, “The Fugitive,” 1993)

Richard Kimble, a Chicago vascular surgeon, arrives home to find that a man just brutally murdered his loving wife. The killer escapes, and Kimble falls into the frame-up. Convicted for the murder and headed to prison, Kimble breaks free in an epic escape scene. He spends the rest of the movie all but giving his right arm to find the murderer, while being pursued by a dogged U.S. Marshal played with gusto by Tommy Lee Jones. Kimble eventually discovers that his colleague, Dr. Charles Nichols (Jeroen Krabbé), is not quite the best friend a man could have – or the most ethical of clinical investigators.

Elliot and Beverly Mantle (Jeremy Irons, “Dead Ringers,” 1988)

“You’ve got to try the movie star,” fertility specialist Elliot Mantle (Jeremy Irons) implores to his identical but meek twin brother, Beverly (also Jeremy Irons), talking about an actress-patient (Genevieve Bujold) as if she were a menu item. Beverly shares a practice with Elliot, along with a soul and an easily satisfied drug addiction. Beverly is unaware that Elliot seduces patients before passing them off to his brother, including the actress. Beverly is in love with the actress, which upsets the equilibrium of their shared soul. He aims to fix this, but not without some trauma involving freakish and unsanitary operating implements.

Dean Armitage (Bradley Whitford, “Get Out,” 2017)

Neurosurgeon Dean Armitage (Bradley Whitford) was such a fan of President Obama that he would have voted for him a third time if he could. At least, that’s how he portrays himself to Chris (Daniel Kaluuya), an African American photographer and the new boyfriend of Armitage’s White daughter. The Armitage estate has plenty of people of color – on staff, anyway – but Chris finds them odd and distant. It turns out that a gathering of rich White people is in fact an auction for his eyesight. Horror ensues. The main message from this film is not unlike that of Russian operatives who fall out of favor with the Kremlin: Don’t drink the tea.

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

Masks can be scary on Halloween, but more so when they come with scrubs, scalpels, and God complexes. In March, Medscape readers chose their favorite characters and performers in the Hollywood health care system. As a Halloween treat, we follow up with a dozen of our favorite Evil Doctors from a deep bench (and no, Dr Evil didn’t go to medical school; neither did Dr No, for that matter). Before you see these folks who’d rather haunt than heal, we urge you to seek a second opinion.

George Harris (Richard Widmark, “Coma,” 1978)

“Medicine is now a great social force,” says Dr. George Harris (Richard Widmark), chief of surgery at Boston Memorial. Because the public trusts doctors, “we’ll make the hard decisions” – like choosing which young, healthy patients to put into an irreversible coma to harvest their organs. Harris’ audience of one here is Dr. Susan Wheeler (Genevieve Bujold), the upstart who has uncovered his plot, and whom Harris has just drugged to prepare her as his next unintentional donor. “Coma” was based on a bestseller by Robin Cook and directed by Michael Crichton, who left Harvard Medical School for a career in popular books and films, including “The Andromeda Strain” and “Jurassic Park.” Although Dr. Harris starts out as a reassuring friend and mentor to Dr. Wheeler, older moviegoers won’t forget that he launched to stardom by tossing a woman in a wheelchair down the stairs in 1947’s “Kiss of Death.”
 

Christian Szell (Laurence Olivier, “Marathon Man,” 1976)

He may look harmless, but Christian Szell (Laurence Olivier) is a sadist with a secret, a stash, and throat-slitting skills. Szell, a dentist known as the White Angel of Auschwitz for his war crimes, stops at nothing to protect the diamonds he stole from his victims in the camps. In one of Hollywood’s most infamous torture scenes, Szell tries to extract information from Babe Levy (Dustin Hoffman), an innocent grad student, plying the tools of his trade. When Szell asks, “Is it safe?” he’s not curious about whether Babe’s insurance covers anesthesia.

Orin Scrivello (Steve Martin, “Little Shop of Horrors,” 1986)

Sticking with deranged dentists, Orin Scrivello, DDS, (Steve Martin) sings and dances his way into your nightmares buoyed by copious helpings of nitrous oxide. Orin’s too-encouraging momma told him to parlay his sadistic tendencies into a career “where people will pay you to be inhumane.” Sonny listened. Moviegoers were treated to screeching sound effects of a tooth getting yanked during an Elvis-like musical number shot in part from inside a patient’s mouth. Martin makes a creepy scene more fun than a long, slow root canal.

Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive, “Frankenstein,” 1931)

His alarming need for fresh corpses forced Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) to leave medical school and experiment solo in a castle. He insists to his betrothed that he hasn’t gone mad when she arrives as  he is bringing a dead body back to life during a raging lightning storm. When she and Henry’s mentor, Dr Waldman, witness him succeed, Waldman warns Henry that the former owner of the purloined brain was a notorious criminal. When Henry exclaims: “It’s alive, it’s alive !” little did he know that he created the face (Boris Karloff) that would launch a thousand sequels, a spectacular satire, and untold Halloween masks.

Dr. Gogol (Peter Lorre, “Mad Love,” 1935)

A few years after playing doctor Frankenstein, Colin Clive became the patient of a mad medic himself. A concert pianist whose hands have been mangled in a train wreck, Clive’s wife turns to Dr. Gogol (Peter Lorre, in his Hollywood debut), who promises to surgically reattach the musician’s hands. Unfortunately, Gogol is so obsessed with the wife, a star of gory stage shows, that he has created a wax figure of her. He schemes to win her in the flesh by attaching a murderer’s hands to Clive, then frame him for committing murder with those hands. Gogol utters the madman’s lament: “I have conquered science. Why can’t I conquer love?” A modern remake would surely have him asking, “Why do they swipe left?

Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins, “Silence of the Lambs,” 1991)

The FBI, hunting for a serial killer, sends trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) to seek insight into the murderer from the imprisoned Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), a brilliant psychiatrist with a penchant for murder — and a taste for the flesh of his victims. Lecter proves to be a menace from their first meeting; the bars and glass surrounding his cell offer Clarice no protection from his gaze and ability to read her mind. In his own way, the urbane, pathologically charming Lecter takes a shine to Clarice, helping with the case while embarking on another murderous spree against men who recently wronged her. When he escapes, his plans do not include dinner with – or of – Clarice, but others, well, they’re not so lucky.

Henry Jekyll (Fredric March, “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” 1931)

Henry Jekyll (Fredric March) is a jumble of personalities. By day, he’s a kindly doctor in Victorian London with an American accent. But he is so determined to split good and evil personalities that he devises a potion to outsource his id. As he watches himself morph into Mr. Hyde – a hairy, cone-headed dude in serious need of an orthodontist – he exclaims, “Free! Free at last!” Free, that is, for his simian side to engage in debauchery, abuse, self-hatred, intimations of rape, and ultimately murder – all of which are explored in this pre-Code film, the first talkie version of Robert Louis Stevenson’s story.

Dr. Moreau (Charles Laughton, “Island of Lost Souls,” 1932)

“Strange-looking natives you have here,” shipwreck victim Edward Parker (Richard Arlen) tells his host, the white-suited, whip-wielding Dr Moreau. Before long, we learn that Moreau’s evil veterinary talents  have created an island population of human/beast hybrids who are forced to follow his laws – especially one forbidding them from eating meat or walking on all fours. Lawbreakers get taken to the House of Pain, a medical setting which, as its name suggests, lacks adequate analgesia. Burt Lancaster and Marlon Brando took on the Moreau role in later versions, but Laughton is the creepiest when he asks, “Do you know what it means to feel like God?” The film was banned for years in Britain, and H.G. Wells despised this take on his antivivisection tale.

Charles Nichols (Jeroen Krabbé, “The Fugitive,” 1993)

Richard Kimble, a Chicago vascular surgeon, arrives home to find that a man just brutally murdered his loving wife. The killer escapes, and Kimble falls into the frame-up. Convicted for the murder and headed to prison, Kimble breaks free in an epic escape scene. He spends the rest of the movie all but giving his right arm to find the murderer, while being pursued by a dogged U.S. Marshal played with gusto by Tommy Lee Jones. Kimble eventually discovers that his colleague, Dr. Charles Nichols (Jeroen Krabbé), is not quite the best friend a man could have – or the most ethical of clinical investigators.

Elliot and Beverly Mantle (Jeremy Irons, “Dead Ringers,” 1988)

“You’ve got to try the movie star,” fertility specialist Elliot Mantle (Jeremy Irons) implores to his identical but meek twin brother, Beverly (also Jeremy Irons), talking about an actress-patient (Genevieve Bujold) as if she were a menu item. Beverly shares a practice with Elliot, along with a soul and an easily satisfied drug addiction. Beverly is unaware that Elliot seduces patients before passing them off to his brother, including the actress. Beverly is in love with the actress, which upsets the equilibrium of their shared soul. He aims to fix this, but not without some trauma involving freakish and unsanitary operating implements.

Dean Armitage (Bradley Whitford, “Get Out,” 2017)

Neurosurgeon Dean Armitage (Bradley Whitford) was such a fan of President Obama that he would have voted for him a third time if he could. At least, that’s how he portrays himself to Chris (Daniel Kaluuya), an African American photographer and the new boyfriend of Armitage’s White daughter. The Armitage estate has plenty of people of color – on staff, anyway – but Chris finds them odd and distant. It turns out that a gathering of rich White people is in fact an auction for his eyesight. Horror ensues. The main message from this film is not unlike that of Russian operatives who fall out of favor with the Kremlin: Don’t drink the tea.

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

An “exciting” new gene-editing strategy means those born with a rare inherited disease of the immune system could be treated by repairing a fault in their cells.

Scientists have hailed new research that found faulty cells responsible for the immune system disease CTLA-4 insufficiency can be repaired with a pioneering gene editing technique.

CTLA-4 is a protein produced by T cells that helps to control the activity of the immune system. Most people carry two working copies of the gene responsible for producing CTLA-4, but those who have only one functional copy produce too little of the protein to sufficiently regulate the immune system.

For patients with the condition, CTLA-4 insufficiency causes regulatory T cells to function abnormally, leading to severe autoimmunity. The authors explained that the condition also affects effector T cells and thereby “hampers their immune system’s ‘memory,’ ” meaning patients can “struggle to fight off recurring infections by the same viruses and bacteria.” In some cases, it can also lead to lymphomas.
 

Gene editing to ‘cut’ out faulty genes and ‘paste’ in ‘corrected’ ones

The research, published in Science Translational Medicine, and led by scientists from University College London, demonstrated in human cells and in mice that the cell fault can be repaired.

The scientists used “cut-and-paste” gene-editing techniques. First, they used the CRISPR/Cas9 system to target the faulty gene in human T cells taken from patients with CTLA-4 insufficiency, and then snip the faulty CTLA-4 gene in two. Then, to repair the errors a corrected sequence of DNA – delivered to the cell using a modified virus – was pasted over the faulty part of the gene using a cellular DNA repair mechanism known as homology-directed repair.

The authors explained that this allowed them to “preserve” important sequences within the CTLA-4 gene – known as the intron – that allow it to be switched on and off by the cell only when needed. 

The outcome was “restored levels of CTLA-4 in the cells to those seen in healthy T cells,” the authors said.

Claire Booth, PhD, Mahboubian professor of gene therapy and pediatric immunology, UCL Great Ormond Street Institute of Child Health, and co–senior author, said that it was “really exciting” to think about taking this treatment forward to patients. “If we can improve their symptoms and reduce their risk of getting lymphoproliferative disease this will be a major step forward.”

In addition, the researchers were also able to improve symptoms of the disease in mice with CTLA-4 insufficiency by giving them injections of gene-edited T cells.
 

Technique may help tackle many conditions

The current standard treatment for CTLA-4 insufficiency is a bone marrow transplant to replace the stem cells responsible for producing T cells. However, “transplants are risky” and require high doses of chemotherapy and many weeks in hospital, the authors explained. “Older patients with CTLA-4 insufficiency are typically not well enough to tolerate the transplant procedure.”

Dr. Booth highlighted that the approach has many “positive aspects”. By correcting the patient’s T cells, “we think it can improve many of the symptoms of the disease”, she said, and added that this new approach is much less toxic than a bone marrow transplant. “Collecting the T cells is easier and correcting the T cells is easier. With this approach the amount of time in hospital the patients would need would be far less.”

Emma Morris, PhD, professor of clinical cell and gene therapy and director of UCL’s division of infection and immunity, and co–senior author, said: “Genes that play critical roles in controlling immune responses are not switched on all the time and are very tightly regulated. The technique we have used allows us to leave the natural (endogenous) mechanisms controlling gene expression intact, at the same time as correcting the mistake in the gene itself.”

The researchers explained that, although CTLA-4 insufficiency is rare, the gene editing therapy could be a proof of principle of their approach that could be adapted to tackle other conditions. 

“It’s a way of correcting genetic mutations that could potentially be applicable for other diseases,” suggested Dr. Morris. “The bigger picture is it allows us to correct genes that are dysregulated or overactive, but also allows us to understand much more about gene expression and gene regulation.”

The study was funded by the Wellcome Trust, the Association for Moleculary Pathology, the Medical Research Council, Alzheimer’s Research UK, and the UCLH/UCL NIHR Biomedical Research Centre. Dr. Morris is a founder sharehold of Quell Therapeutics and has received honoraria from Orchard Therapeutics, GlaxoSmithKline, and AstraZeneca. Dr. Booth has performed ad hoc consulting in the past 3 years for SOBI and Novartis and educational material production for SOBI and Chiesi. A patent on the intronic gene editing approach has been filed in the UK. The other authors declared that they have no completing interests.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape UK.

An “exciting” new gene-editing strategy means those born with a rare inherited disease of the immune system could be treated by repairing a fault in their cells.

Scientists have hailed new research that found faulty cells responsible for the immune system disease CTLA-4 insufficiency can be repaired with a pioneering gene editing technique.

CTLA-4 is a protein produced by T cells that helps to control the activity of the immune system. Most people carry two working copies of the gene responsible for producing CTLA-4, but those who have only one functional copy produce too little of the protein to sufficiently regulate the immune system.

For patients with the condition, CTLA-4 insufficiency causes regulatory T cells to function abnormally, leading to severe autoimmunity. The authors explained that the condition also affects effector T cells and thereby “hampers their immune system’s ‘memory,’ ” meaning patients can “struggle to fight off recurring infections by the same viruses and bacteria.” In some cases, it can also lead to lymphomas.
 

Gene editing to ‘cut’ out faulty genes and ‘paste’ in ‘corrected’ ones

The research, published in Science Translational Medicine, and led by scientists from University College London, demonstrated in human cells and in mice that the cell fault can be repaired.

The scientists used “cut-and-paste” gene-editing techniques. First, they used the CRISPR/Cas9 system to target the faulty gene in human T cells taken from patients with CTLA-4 insufficiency, and then snip the faulty CTLA-4 gene in two. Then, to repair the errors a corrected sequence of DNA – delivered to the cell using a modified virus – was pasted over the faulty part of the gene using a cellular DNA repair mechanism known as homology-directed repair.

The authors explained that this allowed them to “preserve” important sequences within the CTLA-4 gene – known as the intron – that allow it to be switched on and off by the cell only when needed. 

The outcome was “restored levels of CTLA-4 in the cells to those seen in healthy T cells,” the authors said.

Claire Booth, PhD, Mahboubian professor of gene therapy and pediatric immunology, UCL Great Ormond Street Institute of Child Health, and co–senior author, said that it was “really exciting” to think about taking this treatment forward to patients. “If we can improve their symptoms and reduce their risk of getting lymphoproliferative disease this will be a major step forward.”

In addition, the researchers were also able to improve symptoms of the disease in mice with CTLA-4 insufficiency by giving them injections of gene-edited T cells.
 

Technique may help tackle many conditions

The current standard treatment for CTLA-4 insufficiency is a bone marrow transplant to replace the stem cells responsible for producing T cells. However, “transplants are risky” and require high doses of chemotherapy and many weeks in hospital, the authors explained. “Older patients with CTLA-4 insufficiency are typically not well enough to tolerate the transplant procedure.”

Dr. Booth highlighted that the approach has many “positive aspects”. By correcting the patient’s T cells, “we think it can improve many of the symptoms of the disease”, she said, and added that this new approach is much less toxic than a bone marrow transplant. “Collecting the T cells is easier and correcting the T cells is easier. With this approach the amount of time in hospital the patients would need would be far less.”

Emma Morris, PhD, professor of clinical cell and gene therapy and director of UCL’s division of infection and immunity, and co–senior author, said: “Genes that play critical roles in controlling immune responses are not switched on all the time and are very tightly regulated. The technique we have used allows us to leave the natural (endogenous) mechanisms controlling gene expression intact, at the same time as correcting the mistake in the gene itself.”

The researchers explained that, although CTLA-4 insufficiency is rare, the gene editing therapy could be a proof of principle of their approach that could be adapted to tackle other conditions. 

“It’s a way of correcting genetic mutations that could potentially be applicable for other diseases,” suggested Dr. Morris. “The bigger picture is it allows us to correct genes that are dysregulated or overactive, but also allows us to understand much more about gene expression and gene regulation.”

The study was funded by the Wellcome Trust, the Association for Moleculary Pathology, the Medical Research Council, Alzheimer’s Research UK, and the UCLH/UCL NIHR Biomedical Research Centre. Dr. Morris is a founder sharehold of Quell Therapeutics and has received honoraria from Orchard Therapeutics, GlaxoSmithKline, and AstraZeneca. Dr. Booth has performed ad hoc consulting in the past 3 years for SOBI and Novartis and educational material production for SOBI and Chiesi. A patent on the intronic gene editing approach has been filed in the UK. The other authors declared that they have no completing interests.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape UK.

An “exciting” new gene-editing strategy means those born with a rare inherited disease of the immune system could be treated by repairing a fault in their cells.

Scientists have hailed new research that found faulty cells responsible for the immune system disease CTLA-4 insufficiency can be repaired with a pioneering gene editing technique.

CTLA-4 is a protein produced by T cells that helps to control the activity of the immune system. Most people carry two working copies of the gene responsible for producing CTLA-4, but those who have only one functional copy produce too little of the protein to sufficiently regulate the immune system.

For patients with the condition, CTLA-4 insufficiency causes regulatory T cells to function abnormally, leading to severe autoimmunity. The authors explained that the condition also affects effector T cells and thereby “hampers their immune system’s ‘memory,’ ” meaning patients can “struggle to fight off recurring infections by the same viruses and bacteria.” In some cases, it can also lead to lymphomas.
 

Gene editing to ‘cut’ out faulty genes and ‘paste’ in ‘corrected’ ones

The research, published in Science Translational Medicine, and led by scientists from University College London, demonstrated in human cells and in mice that the cell fault can be repaired.

The scientists used “cut-and-paste” gene-editing techniques. First, they used the CRISPR/Cas9 system to target the faulty gene in human T cells taken from patients with CTLA-4 insufficiency, and then snip the faulty CTLA-4 gene in two. Then, to repair the errors a corrected sequence of DNA – delivered to the cell using a modified virus – was pasted over the faulty part of the gene using a cellular DNA repair mechanism known as homology-directed repair.

The authors explained that this allowed them to “preserve” important sequences within the CTLA-4 gene – known as the intron – that allow it to be switched on and off by the cell only when needed. 

The outcome was “restored levels of CTLA-4 in the cells to those seen in healthy T cells,” the authors said.

Claire Booth, PhD, Mahboubian professor of gene therapy and pediatric immunology, UCL Great Ormond Street Institute of Child Health, and co–senior author, said that it was “really exciting” to think about taking this treatment forward to patients. “If we can improve their symptoms and reduce their risk of getting lymphoproliferative disease this will be a major step forward.”

In addition, the researchers were also able to improve symptoms of the disease in mice with CTLA-4 insufficiency by giving them injections of gene-edited T cells.
 

Technique may help tackle many conditions

The current standard treatment for CTLA-4 insufficiency is a bone marrow transplant to replace the stem cells responsible for producing T cells. However, “transplants are risky” and require high doses of chemotherapy and many weeks in hospital, the authors explained. “Older patients with CTLA-4 insufficiency are typically not well enough to tolerate the transplant procedure.”

Dr. Booth highlighted that the approach has many “positive aspects”. By correcting the patient’s T cells, “we think it can improve many of the symptoms of the disease”, she said, and added that this new approach is much less toxic than a bone marrow transplant. “Collecting the T cells is easier and correcting the T cells is easier. With this approach the amount of time in hospital the patients would need would be far less.”

Emma Morris, PhD, professor of clinical cell and gene therapy and director of UCL’s division of infection and immunity, and co–senior author, said: “Genes that play critical roles in controlling immune responses are not switched on all the time and are very tightly regulated. The technique we have used allows us to leave the natural (endogenous) mechanisms controlling gene expression intact, at the same time as correcting the mistake in the gene itself.”

The researchers explained that, although CTLA-4 insufficiency is rare, the gene editing therapy could be a proof of principle of their approach that could be adapted to tackle other conditions. 

“It’s a way of correcting genetic mutations that could potentially be applicable for other diseases,” suggested Dr. Morris. “The bigger picture is it allows us to correct genes that are dysregulated or overactive, but also allows us to understand much more about gene expression and gene regulation.”

The study was funded by the Wellcome Trust, the Association for Moleculary Pathology, the Medical Research Council, Alzheimer’s Research UK, and the UCLH/UCL NIHR Biomedical Research Centre. Dr. Morris is a founder sharehold of Quell Therapeutics and has received honoraria from Orchard Therapeutics, GlaxoSmithKline, and AstraZeneca. Dr. Booth has performed ad hoc consulting in the past 3 years for SOBI and Novartis and educational material production for SOBI and Chiesi. A patent on the intronic gene editing approach has been filed in the UK. The other authors declared that they have no completing interests.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape UK.

Doctor, doctor, gimme the news. I got a bad case of misidentifying you

There are a lot of medical specialties out there. A lot. Everything from allergists to urologists, with something like 150 subspecialties grouped in among the larger specialties. Can you name every one? Do you know what they do?

The point is, telling a patient or anyone in the general public that you’re an ophthalmologist may not be as helpful as you might think, if a recent study is to be believed. In a survey of 204 adults, conducted at the Minnesota State Fair of all places, researchers asked volunteers to define 14 different specialties, as well as five medical seniority titles.

Minerva Studio/ThinkStock

The results were less than stellar. While more than 90% of people correctly defined what cardiologists and dermatologists do, 6 of the other 12 specialists were correctly identified by less than half of those surveyed. Nephrology was at the bottom, correctly identified by just 20% of the fair-attending public, followed by internists (21%), intensivists (29%), hospitalists (31%), pulmonologists (43%), and neonatologists at 48%. The hospitalists are particularly concerning. They’re doctors, but in hospitals. How hard is that? (Yes, it’s obviously more complicated than that, but still.)

The general public didn’t fare much better when it came to correctly lining up the order of progression from medical student to attending. Just 12% managed to place all five in the correct order of med student, intern, senior resident, fellow, then attending, with senior resident proving especially troublesome. More than 40% put senior resident at the end, compared with 27% for attending. Which does make a certain amount of sense, since it has senior in the name.

While the results speak for themselves – maybe elaborate on what the heck your fancy title actually means – it’s too bad the researchers didn’t throw in something really tricky. If two-thirds of the population can’t identify a hospitalist, just imagine how many people would misidentify an otolaryngologist.
 

Beach-to-table sand could fight obesity

People are always looking for the new weight loss solution. Whether it’s to just look good in a new pair of jeans or reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease, there are millions of diets and exercise routines out here. We’re here to tell you that the next new therapy to reduce fat comes from a very unsuspecting place: Sand.

David Stanley

Like sand from the beach and desert, sand? Well, yes and no.

The research involved engineered porous silica particles made from sand that are designed to have a high surface area. Investigators used a two-step GI model in which gastric digestion was modeled for 30 minutes, followed by a 60-minute intestinal phase, to show that the porous silica particles helped prevent fat and sugar adsorption within the GI tract.

By mimicking the gastrointestinal environment during digestion of a high-fat, high-carb meal, the researchers found that the porous silica created an “anti-obesity effect” by restricting the adsorption of those fats and carbohydrates.

Okay, but how is that on the tummy? Much gentler on the stomach than a drug such as orlistat, said senior researcher Paul Joyce, PhD, of the University of South Australia, Adelaide, who noted the lack of effective therapies without side effects, such as bloating, diarrhea, and abdominal pain, that deter people from treatment.

Obesity affects over 1.9 billion people worldwide, so the researchers think this could be a breakthrough. Reducing obesity may be one of the most preventable ways to reduce the risk of type 2 diabetes, heart disease, and other weight-related chronic conditions. A treatment solution this simple could be the answer to this global health crisis.

Who would have thought the solution would be as simple as sand? But how would the sand get in our stomachs? Do we sprinkle it on our food? Mix it in during cooking? Or will the sand come in pill form? We sure hope it’s that third one.
 

I am Reliebo. I am here to help you

Halloween is almost here, and the LOTME staff has been trying to make the office look as scary as possible: Headless vampires, ghost clowns, Ted Cruz, gray tombstones, pink hearts, green clovers, red balloons. Wait a second, those last three are Lucky Charms marshmallows, aren’t they? We’ll use those some other time.

University of Tsukuba

What are we not using to decorate? Well, besides marshmallows from cereal, we’re not using Reliebo. That’s what we’re not using. Reliebo is a cute little fuzzy robot, and is not at all scary. Reliebo was designed to be the opposite of scary. Reliebo “may reduce fear as well as alleviate the perception of pain during medical treatments, including vaccinations,” senior author Fumihide Tanaka, PhD, of the University of Tsukuba (Japan) said in a written statement.

The soft, fur-covered robot contains small airbags that can inflate in response to hand movements. When study participants were subjected to a moderate heat stimulus on one arm, those who held the robot with the other arm experienced less pain than those who did not have a Reliebo.

The results also were encouraging when Dr. Tanaka and associates measured the levels of oxytocin and cortisol (biomarkers for stress) from the subjects’ saliva samples and evaluated their fear of injections and their psychological state before and after the experiments.

After looking at that photo of Reliebo for a while, though, we have to admit that we’re having a bit of a rethink about its cuteness. Is it cute, or weird-looking? An office full of fuzzy little inflating robots just could be seriously creepy. Please don’t tell the rest of the staff about this. We want to surprise them on Monday.

Doctor, doctor, gimme the news. I got a bad case of misidentifying you

There are a lot of medical specialties out there. A lot. Everything from allergists to urologists, with something like 150 subspecialties grouped in among the larger specialties. Can you name every one? Do you know what they do?

The point is, telling a patient or anyone in the general public that you’re an ophthalmologist may not be as helpful as you might think, if a recent study is to be believed. In a survey of 204 adults, conducted at the Minnesota State Fair of all places, researchers asked volunteers to define 14 different specialties, as well as five medical seniority titles.

Minerva Studio/ThinkStock

The results were less than stellar. While more than 90% of people correctly defined what cardiologists and dermatologists do, 6 of the other 12 specialists were correctly identified by less than half of those surveyed. Nephrology was at the bottom, correctly identified by just 20% of the fair-attending public, followed by internists (21%), intensivists (29%), hospitalists (31%), pulmonologists (43%), and neonatologists at 48%. The hospitalists are particularly concerning. They’re doctors, but in hospitals. How hard is that? (Yes, it’s obviously more complicated than that, but still.)

The general public didn’t fare much better when it came to correctly lining up the order of progression from medical student to attending. Just 12% managed to place all five in the correct order of med student, intern, senior resident, fellow, then attending, with senior resident proving especially troublesome. More than 40% put senior resident at the end, compared with 27% for attending. Which does make a certain amount of sense, since it has senior in the name.

While the results speak for themselves – maybe elaborate on what the heck your fancy title actually means – it’s too bad the researchers didn’t throw in something really tricky. If two-thirds of the population can’t identify a hospitalist, just imagine how many people would misidentify an otolaryngologist.
 

Beach-to-table sand could fight obesity

People are always looking for the new weight loss solution. Whether it’s to just look good in a new pair of jeans or reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease, there are millions of diets and exercise routines out here. We’re here to tell you that the next new therapy to reduce fat comes from a very unsuspecting place: Sand.

David Stanley

Like sand from the beach and desert, sand? Well, yes and no.

The research involved engineered porous silica particles made from sand that are designed to have a high surface area. Investigators used a two-step GI model in which gastric digestion was modeled for 30 minutes, followed by a 60-minute intestinal phase, to show that the porous silica particles helped prevent fat and sugar adsorption within the GI tract.

By mimicking the gastrointestinal environment during digestion of a high-fat, high-carb meal, the researchers found that the porous silica created an “anti-obesity effect” by restricting the adsorption of those fats and carbohydrates.

Okay, but how is that on the tummy? Much gentler on the stomach than a drug such as orlistat, said senior researcher Paul Joyce, PhD, of the University of South Australia, Adelaide, who noted the lack of effective therapies without side effects, such as bloating, diarrhea, and abdominal pain, that deter people from treatment.

Obesity affects over 1.9 billion people worldwide, so the researchers think this could be a breakthrough. Reducing obesity may be one of the most preventable ways to reduce the risk of type 2 diabetes, heart disease, and other weight-related chronic conditions. A treatment solution this simple could be the answer to this global health crisis.

Who would have thought the solution would be as simple as sand? But how would the sand get in our stomachs? Do we sprinkle it on our food? Mix it in during cooking? Or will the sand come in pill form? We sure hope it’s that third one.
 

I am Reliebo. I am here to help you

Halloween is almost here, and the LOTME staff has been trying to make the office look as scary as possible: Headless vampires, ghost clowns, Ted Cruz, gray tombstones, pink hearts, green clovers, red balloons. Wait a second, those last three are Lucky Charms marshmallows, aren’t they? We’ll use those some other time.

University of Tsukuba

What are we not using to decorate? Well, besides marshmallows from cereal, we’re not using Reliebo. That’s what we’re not using. Reliebo is a cute little fuzzy robot, and is not at all scary. Reliebo was designed to be the opposite of scary. Reliebo “may reduce fear as well as alleviate the perception of pain during medical treatments, including vaccinations,” senior author Fumihide Tanaka, PhD, of the University of Tsukuba (Japan) said in a written statement.

The soft, fur-covered robot contains small airbags that can inflate in response to hand movements. When study participants were subjected to a moderate heat stimulus on one arm, those who held the robot with the other arm experienced less pain than those who did not have a Reliebo.

The results also were encouraging when Dr. Tanaka and associates measured the levels of oxytocin and cortisol (biomarkers for stress) from the subjects’ saliva samples and evaluated their fear of injections and their psychological state before and after the experiments.

After looking at that photo of Reliebo for a while, though, we have to admit that we’re having a bit of a rethink about its cuteness. Is it cute, or weird-looking? An office full of fuzzy little inflating robots just could be seriously creepy. Please don’t tell the rest of the staff about this. We want to surprise them on Monday.

Doctor, doctor, gimme the news. I got a bad case of misidentifying you

There are a lot of medical specialties out there. A lot. Everything from allergists to urologists, with something like 150 subspecialties grouped in among the larger specialties. Can you name every one? Do you know what they do?

The point is, telling a patient or anyone in the general public that you’re an ophthalmologist may not be as helpful as you might think, if a recent study is to be believed. In a survey of 204 adults, conducted at the Minnesota State Fair of all places, researchers asked volunteers to define 14 different specialties, as well as five medical seniority titles.

Minerva Studio/ThinkStock

The results were less than stellar. While more than 90% of people correctly defined what cardiologists and dermatologists do, 6 of the other 12 specialists were correctly identified by less than half of those surveyed. Nephrology was at the bottom, correctly identified by just 20% of the fair-attending public, followed by internists (21%), intensivists (29%), hospitalists (31%), pulmonologists (43%), and neonatologists at 48%. The hospitalists are particularly concerning. They’re doctors, but in hospitals. How hard is that? (Yes, it’s obviously more complicated than that, but still.)

The general public didn’t fare much better when it came to correctly lining up the order of progression from medical student to attending. Just 12% managed to place all five in the correct order of med student, intern, senior resident, fellow, then attending, with senior resident proving especially troublesome. More than 40% put senior resident at the end, compared with 27% for attending. Which does make a certain amount of sense, since it has senior in the name.

While the results speak for themselves – maybe elaborate on what the heck your fancy title actually means – it’s too bad the researchers didn’t throw in something really tricky. If two-thirds of the population can’t identify a hospitalist, just imagine how many people would misidentify an otolaryngologist.
 

Beach-to-table sand could fight obesity

People are always looking for the new weight loss solution. Whether it’s to just look good in a new pair of jeans or reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease, there are millions of diets and exercise routines out here. We’re here to tell you that the next new therapy to reduce fat comes from a very unsuspecting place: Sand.

David Stanley

Like sand from the beach and desert, sand? Well, yes and no.

The research involved engineered porous silica particles made from sand that are designed to have a high surface area. Investigators used a two-step GI model in which gastric digestion was modeled for 30 minutes, followed by a 60-minute intestinal phase, to show that the porous silica particles helped prevent fat and sugar adsorption within the GI tract.

By mimicking the gastrointestinal environment during digestion of a high-fat, high-carb meal, the researchers found that the porous silica created an “anti-obesity effect” by restricting the adsorption of those fats and carbohydrates.

Okay, but how is that on the tummy? Much gentler on the stomach than a drug such as orlistat, said senior researcher Paul Joyce, PhD, of the University of South Australia, Adelaide, who noted the lack of effective therapies without side effects, such as bloating, diarrhea, and abdominal pain, that deter people from treatment.

Obesity affects over 1.9 billion people worldwide, so the researchers think this could be a breakthrough. Reducing obesity may be one of the most preventable ways to reduce the risk of type 2 diabetes, heart disease, and other weight-related chronic conditions. A treatment solution this simple could be the answer to this global health crisis.

Who would have thought the solution would be as simple as sand? But how would the sand get in our stomachs? Do we sprinkle it on our food? Mix it in during cooking? Or will the sand come in pill form? We sure hope it’s that third one.
 

I am Reliebo. I am here to help you

Halloween is almost here, and the LOTME staff has been trying to make the office look as scary as possible: Headless vampires, ghost clowns, Ted Cruz, gray tombstones, pink hearts, green clovers, red balloons. Wait a second, those last three are Lucky Charms marshmallows, aren’t they? We’ll use those some other time.

University of Tsukuba

What are we not using to decorate? Well, besides marshmallows from cereal, we’re not using Reliebo. That’s what we’re not using. Reliebo is a cute little fuzzy robot, and is not at all scary. Reliebo was designed to be the opposite of scary. Reliebo “may reduce fear as well as alleviate the perception of pain during medical treatments, including vaccinations,” senior author Fumihide Tanaka, PhD, of the University of Tsukuba (Japan) said in a written statement.

The soft, fur-covered robot contains small airbags that can inflate in response to hand movements. When study participants were subjected to a moderate heat stimulus on one arm, those who held the robot with the other arm experienced less pain than those who did not have a Reliebo.

The results also were encouraging when Dr. Tanaka and associates measured the levels of oxytocin and cortisol (biomarkers for stress) from the subjects’ saliva samples and evaluated their fear of injections and their psychological state before and after the experiments.

After looking at that photo of Reliebo for a while, though, we have to admit that we’re having a bit of a rethink about its cuteness. Is it cute, or weird-looking? An office full of fuzzy little inflating robots just could be seriously creepy. Please don’t tell the rest of the staff about this. We want to surprise them on Monday.

When 32-year-old Brittany Dicks was diagnosed with stage II triple negative breast cancer in January 2022, she wasn’t worried about the cost of treatment. A medical assistant in Charleston, S.C., Ms. Dicks had full-time employment with health benefits.

But when she wasn’t able to work for several months because of chemotherapy and its side effects, Ms. Dicks lost her job. Her health insurance coverage ended in May. And although she filed for Medicaid at the beginning of June, it wasn’t approved until September.

Meanwhile, Ms. Dicks still needed treatment. She estimates that she ran up close to $20,000 in medical debt while finishing chemotherapy during the 4 months she was uninsured.

The surgeon she had seen since her diagnosis terminated her care when she could no longer pay her bills. That left her delaying a much-needed mastectomy.

“I don’t sleep at night,” said Ms. Dicks, a single mother of two young kids, ages 3 and 11. “Mentally, I’m drained. Just because I have cancer, doesn’t mean the bills aren’t due every month.”

As soon as she felt well enough over the summer, she started working as a part-time delivery driver for DoorDash to help pay for food and gas.

But that was just a Band-Aid. Even when her new insurance kicked in, covering the costs of daily life remained a struggle.

Ms. Dicks is still in deep medical debt. Her Medicaid has covered new medical expenses, and she hopes Medicaid will reimburse her for the debt she incurred over the summer while she waited for her coverage to kick in. So far, though, Medicaid has not touched her $20,000 debt.

“I fear that I’m not going to be able to dig out of this hole,” Ms. Dicks said.

Researchers who study the financial impacts of cancer have a term for Ms. Dicks’ experience: financial toxicity.

Financial toxicity is a catchall term for the burden many Americans with cancer experience.

“Financial toxicity is a multidimensional concept. There’s both a material burden and a psychosocial one,” said Grace Li Smith, MD, PhD, MPH, a radiation oncologist at the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center, Houston.

Financial toxicity encompasses the direct costs of medical care, including copays, deductibles, and other out-of-pocket expenses for treatment and medications as well as the indirect costs from loss of income or savings associated with cancer care.

Researchers are also now beginning to understand the psychological effects these financial burdens can have on patients and their family.

“Financial toxicity is not unique to the patient,” said Dr. Li Smith. It “very directly impacts the whole family or household.”
 

Stifling financial pressures

Early in her career, Dr. Li Smith was already seeing how her patients’ worries extended beyond their physical disease.

One of Dr. Li Smith’s first patients told her their greatest worry wasn’t whether the treatment would work or what physical toxicity to expect, it was how they would pay for their care.

“There was much more anxiety and true distress about the financial burden than about the treatment itself,” Dr. Li Smith recalled.

This fear about the costs of cancer care is well founded. In the United States, cancer treatment costs reached an estimated $150 billion in 2020 and continue to rise. Patients shoulder a significant portion of that burden – with one study estimating that patients paid $21 billion for their cancer care in 2019.

The burden is often compounded by decreased income. Between 40% and 85% of patients with cancer needed to take time off work or quit their jobs during treatment. And for those, like Dicks, who find themselves with no insurance, out-of-pocket costs can quickly skyrocket.

In fact, one study of newly diagnosed cancer patients over age 50 reported that more than 42% of patients fully depleted their financial assets and around 30% incurred debt by the second year of their diagnosis.

Younger adults may be even more financially vulnerable. A study of patients in Washington found that those under 65 – which represent about half of cancer cases – were two to five times more likely to declare bankruptcy than patients over 65.

Dr. Li Smith and colleagues have found that younger patients aged 18-64 experienced greater monetary hardships, which meant less money for food, worse adherence to medications, as well as greater distress and anxiety overall. In fact, younger adults were over 4.5 times more likely to encounter severe financial toxicity, compared with older adults, and about 4 times more likely to experience severe psychological effects from this burden.

The distress, if left unchecked, can spiral out of control.

Molly MacDonald had just gone through a financially devastating divorce in 2005 when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Recently out of work and dealing with a $1,300 monthly COBRA premium, the mother of five had no financial safety net. She risked having her car repossessed and her utilities shut off.

“I gave tentative thought to how I could take my life and make it look like an accident,” said Ms. MacDonald. “I thought the kids would be better off without me.”

For some, the loss of income can be even more worrisome than the medical bills. Some patients may go back to work during treatment, often against medical advice.

When Stephanie Caputo, 43, of Monroe, N.J., began treatment for stage III breast cancer in 2021, her physician recommended she stop working. Treatment would make her immunocompromised, and her job in a medical clinic could expose her to harmful pathogens, including the coronavirus.

Ms. Caputo went on disability and received $900 every 2 weeks. But that wasn’t enough to pay her mortgage, let alone cover her other monthly expenses as a single mother of 4 teenagers.

After finishing chemotherapy, and during radiation, Ms. Caputo went back to work, part time, against her doctor’s advice.

“My doctor is telling me I can’t work, but I also can’t have my house go into default,” said Ms. Caputo.

But being on her feet through 12-hour shifts made treatment side effects, especially back and joint pain, kick into overdrive. “The physicality of my job was really difficult to tolerate,” she said.

The physical burden was too great to take on more work, but the extra money also wasn’t enough to keep her afloat. Fortunately, her brother stepped in and covered 6 months of her mortgage payments.
 

Financial toxicity impacts families

Although financial toxicity research to date has largely focused on the patient, researchers are also starting to understand that family members and caregivers often share in the burden.

“We are just at the beginning of realizing that this is a real problem,” said Fumiko Chino, MD, a radiation oncologist at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, New York.

Dr. Chino and colleagues recently showed that family members of patients with cancer were more likely to delay or forgo medical care than family members of people without cancer. The study found the effect was greatest among family members of younger adults with cancer.

“The caregiver and family burden related to cancer diagnosis and treatment is really underappreciated,” said Dr. Chino. “Family members and caregivers are neglecting their own health concerns, passing up career opportunities, struggling with financial concerns.”

Dr. Chino speaks from personal experience. When her fiancé, later husband, was diagnosed with neuroendocrine carcinoma in 2005, Dr. Chino quit her job as art director at a television production company to take care of him.

The couple, both in their 20s, struggled to afford his care. Dr. Chino put her own dental, medical, and mental health care on hold. She never, for instance, went to physical therapy to address injuries sustained sleeping in hospital chairs and moving around her husband who was over 6 feet tall. At one point, she walked with a limp.

Dr. Chino’s husband passed away in 2007, and even 15 years later, her injury from sleeping in hospital chairs remains “a significant physical burden,” she said. But like many caregivers “I wasn’t really thinking about my own health.”

Danielle Hadfield, 35, an ED nurse in Rochester, N.Y., also delayed her own care when her mom got sick.

Ms. Hadfield quit her job shortly after her mom was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma in August 2020. Ms. Hadfield knew her mom, who lived 3.5 hours away in Albany, N.Y., would need a lot of care in the upcoming months.

“I knew this was going to be the last year or so of her life, and I wanted to be there for her,” said Ms. Hadfield.

When Ms. Hadfield quit her job, she and her husband – who was self-employed – purchased health insurance coverage through the New York state marketplace. The monthly insurance payments for Ms. Hadfield, who was pregnant with her second child, her husband, and their toddler cost as much as the family’s monthly mortgage payments.

In addition to providing childcare for her young daughter and making frequent trips to Albany, Ms. Hadfield began a side business as a legal nurse consultant, working mostly at night, to replace a portion of her lost income. During this time, she began to experience pain attacks that would migrate through her body along with intermittent tongue and facial numbness. She ignored these health issues for nearly a year, until after her mother died in November 2021.

Only after her mother passed away did Ms. Hadfield begin seeking answers to her own pain. In September 2022, she finally got them. She had a nerve condition called small-fiber sensory neuropathy.

But even with a diagnosis, she is still facing more tests to root out the cause and understand the best treatment.
 

Is help out there?

What can physicians do to help patients and families at risk for financial toxicity?

Specific guidelines for dealing with financial toxicity do not exist in most professional guidelines, nor are there standard screening tools to identify it, said Dr. Li Smith.

These gaps put pressure on physicians to ask about financial barriers and concerns, but most do not know how to broach the topic or how to help. “Physicians may not know how to fix the problem or what resources exist,” Dr. Li Smith said.

Patients and family members, on the other hand, are often reluctant to bring up cost with physicians. Some may be ashamed to talk about their financial problems while others may fear doing so will prevent them from being offered the best possible treatments, said Ms. MacDonald.

But, experts say, financial toxicity needs to be dealt with head on. That means involving financial navigators or counselors and social workers who can, for instance, help patients and families find financial support for their basic living expenses.

From a research perspective, more clinical trials should include financial toxicity outcomes, said Joshua Palmer, MD, a radiation oncologist at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

Dr. Palmer and colleagues recently showed that the number of radiation therapy clinical trials including financial toxicity endpoints increased significantly from 2001 to 2020, though the absolute rate of inclusion remains low, at roughly 1.5% of radiation therapy-based clinical trials including financial toxicity endpoints from 2016 to 2020.

“Financial burden is part of the broader discussion about shared decision-making,” said Dr. Palmer.

In shared decision-making, physicians discuss the risks and benefits of different treatment options, empowering the patient to make an informed choice with the physician.

What we want to avoid is patients feeling like they will get inferior care, if they have financial barriers, said Dr. Palmer.

And every little bit can help. In 2006, Ms. MacDonald started the Pink Fund – a nonprofit to help patients with cancer cover nonmedical cost-of-living expenses. Both Ms. Caputo and Ms. Dicks received grants from the Pink Fund. For Ms. Caputo, the funds covered 2 months of car payments and for Ms. Dicks, it covered 2 months of rent.

While the one-time grant was a big help, said Ms. Dicks, “cancer is an everyday thing.” And “we all deserve peace of mind” when trying to heal.

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

When 32-year-old Brittany Dicks was diagnosed with stage II triple negative breast cancer in January 2022, she wasn’t worried about the cost of treatment. A medical assistant in Charleston, S.C., Ms. Dicks had full-time employment with health benefits.

But when she wasn’t able to work for several months because of chemotherapy and its side effects, Ms. Dicks lost her job. Her health insurance coverage ended in May. And although she filed for Medicaid at the beginning of June, it wasn’t approved until September.

Meanwhile, Ms. Dicks still needed treatment. She estimates that she ran up close to $20,000 in medical debt while finishing chemotherapy during the 4 months she was uninsured.

The surgeon she had seen since her diagnosis terminated her care when she could no longer pay her bills. That left her delaying a much-needed mastectomy.

“I don’t sleep at night,” said Ms. Dicks, a single mother of two young kids, ages 3 and 11. “Mentally, I’m drained. Just because I have cancer, doesn’t mean the bills aren’t due every month.”

As soon as she felt well enough over the summer, she started working as a part-time delivery driver for DoorDash to help pay for food and gas.

But that was just a Band-Aid. Even when her new insurance kicked in, covering the costs of daily life remained a struggle.

Ms. Dicks is still in deep medical debt. Her Medicaid has covered new medical expenses, and she hopes Medicaid will reimburse her for the debt she incurred over the summer while she waited for her coverage to kick in. So far, though, Medicaid has not touched her $20,000 debt.

“I fear that I’m not going to be able to dig out of this hole,” Ms. Dicks said.

Researchers who study the financial impacts of cancer have a term for Ms. Dicks’ experience: financial toxicity.

Financial toxicity is a catchall term for the burden many Americans with cancer experience.

“Financial toxicity is a multidimensional concept. There’s both a material burden and a psychosocial one,” said Grace Li Smith, MD, PhD, MPH, a radiation oncologist at the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center, Houston.

Financial toxicity encompasses the direct costs of medical care, including copays, deductibles, and other out-of-pocket expenses for treatment and medications as well as the indirect costs from loss of income or savings associated with cancer care.

Researchers are also now beginning to understand the psychological effects these financial burdens can have on patients and their family.

“Financial toxicity is not unique to the patient,” said Dr. Li Smith. It “very directly impacts the whole family or household.”
 

Stifling financial pressures

Early in her career, Dr. Li Smith was already seeing how her patients’ worries extended beyond their physical disease.

One of Dr. Li Smith’s first patients told her their greatest worry wasn’t whether the treatment would work or what physical toxicity to expect, it was how they would pay for their care.

“There was much more anxiety and true distress about the financial burden than about the treatment itself,” Dr. Li Smith recalled.

This fear about the costs of cancer care is well founded. In the United States, cancer treatment costs reached an estimated $150 billion in 2020 and continue to rise. Patients shoulder a significant portion of that burden – with one study estimating that patients paid $21 billion for their cancer care in 2019.

The burden is often compounded by decreased income. Between 40% and 85% of patients with cancer needed to take time off work or quit their jobs during treatment. And for those, like Dicks, who find themselves with no insurance, out-of-pocket costs can quickly skyrocket.

In fact, one study of newly diagnosed cancer patients over age 50 reported that more than 42% of patients fully depleted their financial assets and around 30% incurred debt by the second year of their diagnosis.

Younger adults may be even more financially vulnerable. A study of patients in Washington found that those under 65 – which represent about half of cancer cases – were two to five times more likely to declare bankruptcy than patients over 65.

Dr. Li Smith and colleagues have found that younger patients aged 18-64 experienced greater monetary hardships, which meant less money for food, worse adherence to medications, as well as greater distress and anxiety overall. In fact, younger adults were over 4.5 times more likely to encounter severe financial toxicity, compared with older adults, and about 4 times more likely to experience severe psychological effects from this burden.

The distress, if left unchecked, can spiral out of control.

Molly MacDonald had just gone through a financially devastating divorce in 2005 when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Recently out of work and dealing with a $1,300 monthly COBRA premium, the mother of five had no financial safety net. She risked having her car repossessed and her utilities shut off.

“I gave tentative thought to how I could take my life and make it look like an accident,” said Ms. MacDonald. “I thought the kids would be better off without me.”

For some, the loss of income can be even more worrisome than the medical bills. Some patients may go back to work during treatment, often against medical advice.

When Stephanie Caputo, 43, of Monroe, N.J., began treatment for stage III breast cancer in 2021, her physician recommended she stop working. Treatment would make her immunocompromised, and her job in a medical clinic could expose her to harmful pathogens, including the coronavirus.

Ms. Caputo went on disability and received $900 every 2 weeks. But that wasn’t enough to pay her mortgage, let alone cover her other monthly expenses as a single mother of 4 teenagers.

After finishing chemotherapy, and during radiation, Ms. Caputo went back to work, part time, against her doctor’s advice.

“My doctor is telling me I can’t work, but I also can’t have my house go into default,” said Ms. Caputo.

But being on her feet through 12-hour shifts made treatment side effects, especially back and joint pain, kick into overdrive. “The physicality of my job was really difficult to tolerate,” she said.

The physical burden was too great to take on more work, but the extra money also wasn’t enough to keep her afloat. Fortunately, her brother stepped in and covered 6 months of her mortgage payments.
 

Financial toxicity impacts families

Although financial toxicity research to date has largely focused on the patient, researchers are also starting to understand that family members and caregivers often share in the burden.

“We are just at the beginning of realizing that this is a real problem,” said Fumiko Chino, MD, a radiation oncologist at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, New York.

Dr. Chino and colleagues recently showed that family members of patients with cancer were more likely to delay or forgo medical care than family members of people without cancer. The study found the effect was greatest among family members of younger adults with cancer.

“The caregiver and family burden related to cancer diagnosis and treatment is really underappreciated,” said Dr. Chino. “Family members and caregivers are neglecting their own health concerns, passing up career opportunities, struggling with financial concerns.”

Dr. Chino speaks from personal experience. When her fiancé, later husband, was diagnosed with neuroendocrine carcinoma in 2005, Dr. Chino quit her job as art director at a television production company to take care of him.

The couple, both in their 20s, struggled to afford his care. Dr. Chino put her own dental, medical, and mental health care on hold. She never, for instance, went to physical therapy to address injuries sustained sleeping in hospital chairs and moving around her husband who was over 6 feet tall. At one point, she walked with a limp.

Dr. Chino’s husband passed away in 2007, and even 15 years later, her injury from sleeping in hospital chairs remains “a significant physical burden,” she said. But like many caregivers “I wasn’t really thinking about my own health.”

Danielle Hadfield, 35, an ED nurse in Rochester, N.Y., also delayed her own care when her mom got sick.

Ms. Hadfield quit her job shortly after her mom was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma in August 2020. Ms. Hadfield knew her mom, who lived 3.5 hours away in Albany, N.Y., would need a lot of care in the upcoming months.

“I knew this was going to be the last year or so of her life, and I wanted to be there for her,” said Ms. Hadfield.

When Ms. Hadfield quit her job, she and her husband – who was self-employed – purchased health insurance coverage through the New York state marketplace. The monthly insurance payments for Ms. Hadfield, who was pregnant with her second child, her husband, and their toddler cost as much as the family’s monthly mortgage payments.

In addition to providing childcare for her young daughter and making frequent trips to Albany, Ms. Hadfield began a side business as a legal nurse consultant, working mostly at night, to replace a portion of her lost income. During this time, she began to experience pain attacks that would migrate through her body along with intermittent tongue and facial numbness. She ignored these health issues for nearly a year, until after her mother died in November 2021.

Only after her mother passed away did Ms. Hadfield begin seeking answers to her own pain. In September 2022, she finally got them. She had a nerve condition called small-fiber sensory neuropathy.

But even with a diagnosis, she is still facing more tests to root out the cause and understand the best treatment.
 

Is help out there?

What can physicians do to help patients and families at risk for financial toxicity?

Specific guidelines for dealing with financial toxicity do not exist in most professional guidelines, nor are there standard screening tools to identify it, said Dr. Li Smith.

These gaps put pressure on physicians to ask about financial barriers and concerns, but most do not know how to broach the topic or how to help. “Physicians may not know how to fix the problem or what resources exist,” Dr. Li Smith said.

Patients and family members, on the other hand, are often reluctant to bring up cost with physicians. Some may be ashamed to talk about their financial problems while others may fear doing so will prevent them from being offered the best possible treatments, said Ms. MacDonald.

But, experts say, financial toxicity needs to be dealt with head on. That means involving financial navigators or counselors and social workers who can, for instance, help patients and families find financial support for their basic living expenses.

From a research perspective, more clinical trials should include financial toxicity outcomes, said Joshua Palmer, MD, a radiation oncologist at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

Dr. Palmer and colleagues recently showed that the number of radiation therapy clinical trials including financial toxicity endpoints increased significantly from 2001 to 2020, though the absolute rate of inclusion remains low, at roughly 1.5% of radiation therapy-based clinical trials including financial toxicity endpoints from 2016 to 2020.

“Financial burden is part of the broader discussion about shared decision-making,” said Dr. Palmer.

In shared decision-making, physicians discuss the risks and benefits of different treatment options, empowering the patient to make an informed choice with the physician.

What we want to avoid is patients feeling like they will get inferior care, if they have financial barriers, said Dr. Palmer.

And every little bit can help. In 2006, Ms. MacDonald started the Pink Fund – a nonprofit to help patients with cancer cover nonmedical cost-of-living expenses. Both Ms. Caputo and Ms. Dicks received grants from the Pink Fund. For Ms. Caputo, the funds covered 2 months of car payments and for Ms. Dicks, it covered 2 months of rent.

While the one-time grant was a big help, said Ms. Dicks, “cancer is an everyday thing.” And “we all deserve peace of mind” when trying to heal.

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

When 32-year-old Brittany Dicks was diagnosed with stage II triple negative breast cancer in January 2022, she wasn’t worried about the cost of treatment. A medical assistant in Charleston, S.C., Ms. Dicks had full-time employment with health benefits.

But when she wasn’t able to work for several months because of chemotherapy and its side effects, Ms. Dicks lost her job. Her health insurance coverage ended in May. And although she filed for Medicaid at the beginning of June, it wasn’t approved until September.

Meanwhile, Ms. Dicks still needed treatment. She estimates that she ran up close to $20,000 in medical debt while finishing chemotherapy during the 4 months she was uninsured.

The surgeon she had seen since her diagnosis terminated her care when she could no longer pay her bills. That left her delaying a much-needed mastectomy.

“I don’t sleep at night,” said Ms. Dicks, a single mother of two young kids, ages 3 and 11. “Mentally, I’m drained. Just because I have cancer, doesn’t mean the bills aren’t due every month.”

As soon as she felt well enough over the summer, she started working as a part-time delivery driver for DoorDash to help pay for food and gas.

But that was just a Band-Aid. Even when her new insurance kicked in, covering the costs of daily life remained a struggle.

Ms. Dicks is still in deep medical debt. Her Medicaid has covered new medical expenses, and she hopes Medicaid will reimburse her for the debt she incurred over the summer while she waited for her coverage to kick in. So far, though, Medicaid has not touched her $20,000 debt.

“I fear that I’m not going to be able to dig out of this hole,” Ms. Dicks said.

Researchers who study the financial impacts of cancer have a term for Ms. Dicks’ experience: financial toxicity.

Financial toxicity is a catchall term for the burden many Americans with cancer experience.

“Financial toxicity is a multidimensional concept. There’s both a material burden and a psychosocial one,” said Grace Li Smith, MD, PhD, MPH, a radiation oncologist at the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center, Houston.

Financial toxicity encompasses the direct costs of medical care, including copays, deductibles, and other out-of-pocket expenses for treatment and medications as well as the indirect costs from loss of income or savings associated with cancer care.

Researchers are also now beginning to understand the psychological effects these financial burdens can have on patients and their family.

“Financial toxicity is not unique to the patient,” said Dr. Li Smith. It “very directly impacts the whole family or household.”
 

Stifling financial pressures

Early in her career, Dr. Li Smith was already seeing how her patients’ worries extended beyond their physical disease.

One of Dr. Li Smith’s first patients told her their greatest worry wasn’t whether the treatment would work or what physical toxicity to expect, it was how they would pay for their care.

“There was much more anxiety and true distress about the financial burden than about the treatment itself,” Dr. Li Smith recalled.

This fear about the costs of cancer care is well founded. In the United States, cancer treatment costs reached an estimated $150 billion in 2020 and continue to rise. Patients shoulder a significant portion of that burden – with one study estimating that patients paid $21 billion for their cancer care in 2019.

The burden is often compounded by decreased income. Between 40% and 85% of patients with cancer needed to take time off work or quit their jobs during treatment. And for those, like Dicks, who find themselves with no insurance, out-of-pocket costs can quickly skyrocket.

In fact, one study of newly diagnosed cancer patients over age 50 reported that more than 42% of patients fully depleted their financial assets and around 30% incurred debt by the second year of their diagnosis.

Younger adults may be even more financially vulnerable. A study of patients in Washington found that those under 65 – which represent about half of cancer cases – were two to five times more likely to declare bankruptcy than patients over 65.

Dr. Li Smith and colleagues have found that younger patients aged 18-64 experienced greater monetary hardships, which meant less money for food, worse adherence to medications, as well as greater distress and anxiety overall. In fact, younger adults were over 4.5 times more likely to encounter severe financial toxicity, compared with older adults, and about 4 times more likely to experience severe psychological effects from this burden.

The distress, if left unchecked, can spiral out of control.

Molly MacDonald had just gone through a financially devastating divorce in 2005 when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Recently out of work and dealing with a $1,300 monthly COBRA premium, the mother of five had no financial safety net. She risked having her car repossessed and her utilities shut off.

“I gave tentative thought to how I could take my life and make it look like an accident,” said Ms. MacDonald. “I thought the kids would be better off without me.”

For some, the loss of income can be even more worrisome than the medical bills. Some patients may go back to work during treatment, often against medical advice.

When Stephanie Caputo, 43, of Monroe, N.J., began treatment for stage III breast cancer in 2021, her physician recommended she stop working. Treatment would make her immunocompromised, and her job in a medical clinic could expose her to harmful pathogens, including the coronavirus.

Ms. Caputo went on disability and received $900 every 2 weeks. But that wasn’t enough to pay her mortgage, let alone cover her other monthly expenses as a single mother of 4 teenagers.

After finishing chemotherapy, and during radiation, Ms. Caputo went back to work, part time, against her doctor’s advice.

“My doctor is telling me I can’t work, but I also can’t have my house go into default,” said Ms. Caputo.

But being on her feet through 12-hour shifts made treatment side effects, especially back and joint pain, kick into overdrive. “The physicality of my job was really difficult to tolerate,” she said.

The physical burden was too great to take on more work, but the extra money also wasn’t enough to keep her afloat. Fortunately, her brother stepped in and covered 6 months of her mortgage payments.
 

Financial toxicity impacts families

Although financial toxicity research to date has largely focused on the patient, researchers are also starting to understand that family members and caregivers often share in the burden.

“We are just at the beginning of realizing that this is a real problem,” said Fumiko Chino, MD, a radiation oncologist at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, New York.

Dr. Chino and colleagues recently showed that family members of patients with cancer were more likely to delay or forgo medical care than family members of people without cancer. The study found the effect was greatest among family members of younger adults with cancer.

“The caregiver and family burden related to cancer diagnosis and treatment is really underappreciated,” said Dr. Chino. “Family members and caregivers are neglecting their own health concerns, passing up career opportunities, struggling with financial concerns.”

Dr. Chino speaks from personal experience. When her fiancé, later husband, was diagnosed with neuroendocrine carcinoma in 2005, Dr. Chino quit her job as art director at a television production company to take care of him.

The couple, both in their 20s, struggled to afford his care. Dr. Chino put her own dental, medical, and mental health care on hold. She never, for instance, went to physical therapy to address injuries sustained sleeping in hospital chairs and moving around her husband who was over 6 feet tall. At one point, she walked with a limp.

Dr. Chino’s husband passed away in 2007, and even 15 years later, her injury from sleeping in hospital chairs remains “a significant physical burden,” she said. But like many caregivers “I wasn’t really thinking about my own health.”

Danielle Hadfield, 35, an ED nurse in Rochester, N.Y., also delayed her own care when her mom got sick.

Ms. Hadfield quit her job shortly after her mom was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma in August 2020. Ms. Hadfield knew her mom, who lived 3.5 hours away in Albany, N.Y., would need a lot of care in the upcoming months.

“I knew this was going to be the last year or so of her life, and I wanted to be there for her,” said Ms. Hadfield.

When Ms. Hadfield quit her job, she and her husband – who was self-employed – purchased health insurance coverage through the New York state marketplace. The monthly insurance payments for Ms. Hadfield, who was pregnant with her second child, her husband, and their toddler cost as much as the family’s monthly mortgage payments.

In addition to providing childcare for her young daughter and making frequent trips to Albany, Ms. Hadfield began a side business as a legal nurse consultant, working mostly at night, to replace a portion of her lost income. During this time, she began to experience pain attacks that would migrate through her body along with intermittent tongue and facial numbness. She ignored these health issues for nearly a year, until after her mother died in November 2021.

Only after her mother passed away did Ms. Hadfield begin seeking answers to her own pain. In September 2022, she finally got them. She had a nerve condition called small-fiber sensory neuropathy.

But even with a diagnosis, she is still facing more tests to root out the cause and understand the best treatment.
 

Is help out there?

What can physicians do to help patients and families at risk for financial toxicity?

Specific guidelines for dealing with financial toxicity do not exist in most professional guidelines, nor are there standard screening tools to identify it, said Dr. Li Smith.

These gaps put pressure on physicians to ask about financial barriers and concerns, but most do not know how to broach the topic or how to help. “Physicians may not know how to fix the problem or what resources exist,” Dr. Li Smith said.

Patients and family members, on the other hand, are often reluctant to bring up cost with physicians. Some may be ashamed to talk about their financial problems while others may fear doing so will prevent them from being offered the best possible treatments, said Ms. MacDonald.

But, experts say, financial toxicity needs to be dealt with head on. That means involving financial navigators or counselors and social workers who can, for instance, help patients and families find financial support for their basic living expenses.

From a research perspective, more clinical trials should include financial toxicity outcomes, said Joshua Palmer, MD, a radiation oncologist at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

Dr. Palmer and colleagues recently showed that the number of radiation therapy clinical trials including financial toxicity endpoints increased significantly from 2001 to 2020, though the absolute rate of inclusion remains low, at roughly 1.5% of radiation therapy-based clinical trials including financial toxicity endpoints from 2016 to 2020.

“Financial burden is part of the broader discussion about shared decision-making,” said Dr. Palmer.

In shared decision-making, physicians discuss the risks and benefits of different treatment options, empowering the patient to make an informed choice with the physician.

What we want to avoid is patients feeling like they will get inferior care, if they have financial barriers, said Dr. Palmer.

And every little bit can help. In 2006, Ms. MacDonald started the Pink Fund – a nonprofit to help patients with cancer cover nonmedical cost-of-living expenses. Both Ms. Caputo and Ms. Dicks received grants from the Pink Fund. For Ms. Caputo, the funds covered 2 months of car payments and for Ms. Dicks, it covered 2 months of rent.

While the one-time grant was a big help, said Ms. Dicks, “cancer is an everyday thing.” And “we all deserve peace of mind” when trying to heal.

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