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Too many patient call messages
In a recent study published in the Journal of the American Medical Informatics Association that used EHR logs, researchers found that “Clinicians with the highest volume of patient call messages have almost 4 times the odds of burnout compared with clinicians with the fewest.” And they discovered that “No other workload measures were significantly associated with burnout.” Like the majority of papers I skim through, it states the obvious. Doesn’t it makes sense that the busiest of providers should be more vulnerable to stress related symptoms? But is that really true for every provider? Being “busy” doesn’t guarantee that you are productive nor does it mean that the stuff you are doing while you are busy is fulfilling or rewarding either emotionally or financially. Certainly, slogging through a long list of patient call messages at the end of the day does qualify as being busy, but it is more likely to generate anger and frustration than it is fulfillment.
Just because you have a large practice, does that mean that you will necessarily have more messages to review and calls to return than a provider with a smaller practice. Maybe you manage your practice and your time so well that you actually have fewer messages and calls to return and, therefore, are less vulnerable to burnout.
There are three general strategies that you might be employing that result in fewer messages and calls that require your response. It may be that you have developed a handbook of frequently asked questions and trained your staff to use it as a reference in a way that reduces the number of messages that filter to you. Creating this triage book and finding the right personnel took time, but it didn’t necessarily mean that you had to hire staff with extensive training, which can be expensive. In-house training of raw talent that has demonstrated common sense and good communication skills can be cost effective and rewarding. You probably already have discovered that continued attention to quality control is an important part of this strategy. Included in your handbook you may have included a clearcut triage system for the questions that the staff can’t answer. Is it a question you must answer (a) as soon as you finish with this patient, (b) before lunch, or (c) at the end of the day? (Category (c) is of course strongly discouraged).
The second general group of strategies you may be using to keep your calls and messages to a minimum is anticipatory guidance. As you wrap up each visit, are you anticipating what calls it might generate? This of course depends on the nature of the problem and the personality of the patient. From your experience you can probably predict most of the questions that are likely going to crop up after the patient arrives home. Preemptively answering these before patients leave and providing a personalized handout that you discuss with them may easily be saving you two or three calls a day. Because you can’t anticipate every question, you have found that promising a follow-up call in a day or 2 encourages the patients to hold their questions and wait for you or your assistant to call.
Finally, you may have discovered long ago that in many cases it is easier and more efficient to see the patient rather than having your staff spend half their time building and maintaining a communication wall around you. This is particularly true if, during the initial contact with your office, the patients have made it clear that they would like to be seen. This strategy is based on commons sense, but for many physicians and their office staff it may require a dramatic shift in attitude. You may have needed to become more comfortable squeezing in short visits at which the goal is to simply begin the dual processes of anxiety relief and diagnosis. In the beginning, you may have had to frequently remind your staff that their primary goal is patient satisfaction and not protecting you from seeing “too many” patients. Ironically, by being over protective, they may have been contributing to burnout when simply cutting to the chase and having the patient come in to be seen would have generated fewer stress-producing calls and messages.
Enabling a system that generates an excess of patient messages is looking for trouble.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
In a recent study published in the Journal of the American Medical Informatics Association that used EHR logs, researchers found that “Clinicians with the highest volume of patient call messages have almost 4 times the odds of burnout compared with clinicians with the fewest.” And they discovered that “No other workload measures were significantly associated with burnout.” Like the majority of papers I skim through, it states the obvious. Doesn’t it makes sense that the busiest of providers should be more vulnerable to stress related symptoms? But is that really true for every provider? Being “busy” doesn’t guarantee that you are productive nor does it mean that the stuff you are doing while you are busy is fulfilling or rewarding either emotionally or financially. Certainly, slogging through a long list of patient call messages at the end of the day does qualify as being busy, but it is more likely to generate anger and frustration than it is fulfillment.
Just because you have a large practice, does that mean that you will necessarily have more messages to review and calls to return than a provider with a smaller practice. Maybe you manage your practice and your time so well that you actually have fewer messages and calls to return and, therefore, are less vulnerable to burnout.
There are three general strategies that you might be employing that result in fewer messages and calls that require your response. It may be that you have developed a handbook of frequently asked questions and trained your staff to use it as a reference in a way that reduces the number of messages that filter to you. Creating this triage book and finding the right personnel took time, but it didn’t necessarily mean that you had to hire staff with extensive training, which can be expensive. In-house training of raw talent that has demonstrated common sense and good communication skills can be cost effective and rewarding. You probably already have discovered that continued attention to quality control is an important part of this strategy. Included in your handbook you may have included a clearcut triage system for the questions that the staff can’t answer. Is it a question you must answer (a) as soon as you finish with this patient, (b) before lunch, or (c) at the end of the day? (Category (c) is of course strongly discouraged).
The second general group of strategies you may be using to keep your calls and messages to a minimum is anticipatory guidance. As you wrap up each visit, are you anticipating what calls it might generate? This of course depends on the nature of the problem and the personality of the patient. From your experience you can probably predict most of the questions that are likely going to crop up after the patient arrives home. Preemptively answering these before patients leave and providing a personalized handout that you discuss with them may easily be saving you two or three calls a day. Because you can’t anticipate every question, you have found that promising a follow-up call in a day or 2 encourages the patients to hold their questions and wait for you or your assistant to call.
Finally, you may have discovered long ago that in many cases it is easier and more efficient to see the patient rather than having your staff spend half their time building and maintaining a communication wall around you. This is particularly true if, during the initial contact with your office, the patients have made it clear that they would like to be seen. This strategy is based on commons sense, but for many physicians and their office staff it may require a dramatic shift in attitude. You may have needed to become more comfortable squeezing in short visits at which the goal is to simply begin the dual processes of anxiety relief and diagnosis. In the beginning, you may have had to frequently remind your staff that their primary goal is patient satisfaction and not protecting you from seeing “too many” patients. Ironically, by being over protective, they may have been contributing to burnout when simply cutting to the chase and having the patient come in to be seen would have generated fewer stress-producing calls and messages.
Enabling a system that generates an excess of patient messages is looking for trouble.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
In a recent study published in the Journal of the American Medical Informatics Association that used EHR logs, researchers found that “Clinicians with the highest volume of patient call messages have almost 4 times the odds of burnout compared with clinicians with the fewest.” And they discovered that “No other workload measures were significantly associated with burnout.” Like the majority of papers I skim through, it states the obvious. Doesn’t it makes sense that the busiest of providers should be more vulnerable to stress related symptoms? But is that really true for every provider? Being “busy” doesn’t guarantee that you are productive nor does it mean that the stuff you are doing while you are busy is fulfilling or rewarding either emotionally or financially. Certainly, slogging through a long list of patient call messages at the end of the day does qualify as being busy, but it is more likely to generate anger and frustration than it is fulfillment.
Just because you have a large practice, does that mean that you will necessarily have more messages to review and calls to return than a provider with a smaller practice. Maybe you manage your practice and your time so well that you actually have fewer messages and calls to return and, therefore, are less vulnerable to burnout.
There are three general strategies that you might be employing that result in fewer messages and calls that require your response. It may be that you have developed a handbook of frequently asked questions and trained your staff to use it as a reference in a way that reduces the number of messages that filter to you. Creating this triage book and finding the right personnel took time, but it didn’t necessarily mean that you had to hire staff with extensive training, which can be expensive. In-house training of raw talent that has demonstrated common sense and good communication skills can be cost effective and rewarding. You probably already have discovered that continued attention to quality control is an important part of this strategy. Included in your handbook you may have included a clearcut triage system for the questions that the staff can’t answer. Is it a question you must answer (a) as soon as you finish with this patient, (b) before lunch, or (c) at the end of the day? (Category (c) is of course strongly discouraged).
The second general group of strategies you may be using to keep your calls and messages to a minimum is anticipatory guidance. As you wrap up each visit, are you anticipating what calls it might generate? This of course depends on the nature of the problem and the personality of the patient. From your experience you can probably predict most of the questions that are likely going to crop up after the patient arrives home. Preemptively answering these before patients leave and providing a personalized handout that you discuss with them may easily be saving you two or three calls a day. Because you can’t anticipate every question, you have found that promising a follow-up call in a day or 2 encourages the patients to hold their questions and wait for you or your assistant to call.
Finally, you may have discovered long ago that in many cases it is easier and more efficient to see the patient rather than having your staff spend half their time building and maintaining a communication wall around you. This is particularly true if, during the initial contact with your office, the patients have made it clear that they would like to be seen. This strategy is based on commons sense, but for many physicians and their office staff it may require a dramatic shift in attitude. You may have needed to become more comfortable squeezing in short visits at which the goal is to simply begin the dual processes of anxiety relief and diagnosis. In the beginning, you may have had to frequently remind your staff that their primary goal is patient satisfaction and not protecting you from seeing “too many” patients. Ironically, by being over protective, they may have been contributing to burnout when simply cutting to the chase and having the patient come in to be seen would have generated fewer stress-producing calls and messages.
Enabling a system that generates an excess of patient messages is looking for trouble.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
When you see something ...
Over the last several decades science has fallen off this country’s radar screen. Yes, STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) has recently had a brief moment in the spotlight as a buzzword de jour. But the critical importance of careful and systematic investigation into the world around us using observation and trial and error is a tough sell to a large segment of our population.
The COVID-19 pandemic is providing an excellent opportunity for science and medicine to showcase their star qualities. Of course some people in leadership positions persist in disregarding the value of scientific investigation. But I get the feeling that the fear generated by the pandemic is creating some converts among many previous science skeptics. This gathering enthusiasm among the general population is a predictably slow process because that’s the way science works. It often doesn’t provide quick answers. And it is difficult for the nonscientist to see the beauty in the reality that the things we thought were true 2 months ago are likely to be proven wrong today as more observations accumulate.
A recent New York Times article examines the career of one such unscrupulous physician/scientist whose recent exploits threaten to undo much of the positive image the pandemic has cast on science (“The Doctor Behind the Disputed Covid Data,” by Ellen Gabler and Roni Caryn Rabin, The New York Times, July 27, 2020). The subject of the article is the physician who was responsible for providing some of the large data sets on which several papers were published about the apparent ineffectiveness and danger of using hydroxychloroquine in COVID-19 patients. The authenticity of the data sets recently has been seriously questioned, and the articles have been retracted by the journals in which they had appeared.
Based on numerous interviews with coworkers, the Times reporters present a strong case that this individual’s long history of unreliability make his association with allegedly fraudulent data set not surprising but maybe even predictable. At one point in his training, there appears to have been serious questions about advancing the physician to the next level. Despite these concerns, he was allowed to continue and complete his specialty training. It is of note that in his last year of clinical practice, the physician became the subject of three serious malpractice claims that question his competence.
I suspect that some of you have crossed paths with physicians whose competence and/or moral character you found concerning. Were they peers? Were you the individual’s supervisor or was he or she your mentor? How did you respond? Did anyone respond at all?
There has been a lot written and said in recent months about how and when to respond to respond to sexual harassment in the workplace. But I don’t recall reading any articles that discuss how one should respond to incompetence. Of course competency can be a relative term, but in most cases significant incompetence is hard to miss because it tends to be repeated.
It is easy for the airports and subway systems to post signs that say “If you see something say something.” It’s a different story for hospitals and medical schools that may have systems in place for reporting and following up on poor practice. But my sense is that there are too many cases that slip through the cracks.
This is another example of a problem for which I don’t have a solution. However, if this column prompts just one of you who sees something to say something then I have had a good day.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Over the last several decades science has fallen off this country’s radar screen. Yes, STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) has recently had a brief moment in the spotlight as a buzzword de jour. But the critical importance of careful and systematic investigation into the world around us using observation and trial and error is a tough sell to a large segment of our population.
The COVID-19 pandemic is providing an excellent opportunity for science and medicine to showcase their star qualities. Of course some people in leadership positions persist in disregarding the value of scientific investigation. But I get the feeling that the fear generated by the pandemic is creating some converts among many previous science skeptics. This gathering enthusiasm among the general population is a predictably slow process because that’s the way science works. It often doesn’t provide quick answers. And it is difficult for the nonscientist to see the beauty in the reality that the things we thought were true 2 months ago are likely to be proven wrong today as more observations accumulate.
A recent New York Times article examines the career of one such unscrupulous physician/scientist whose recent exploits threaten to undo much of the positive image the pandemic has cast on science (“The Doctor Behind the Disputed Covid Data,” by Ellen Gabler and Roni Caryn Rabin, The New York Times, July 27, 2020). The subject of the article is the physician who was responsible for providing some of the large data sets on which several papers were published about the apparent ineffectiveness and danger of using hydroxychloroquine in COVID-19 patients. The authenticity of the data sets recently has been seriously questioned, and the articles have been retracted by the journals in which they had appeared.
Based on numerous interviews with coworkers, the Times reporters present a strong case that this individual’s long history of unreliability make his association with allegedly fraudulent data set not surprising but maybe even predictable. At one point in his training, there appears to have been serious questions about advancing the physician to the next level. Despite these concerns, he was allowed to continue and complete his specialty training. It is of note that in his last year of clinical practice, the physician became the subject of three serious malpractice claims that question his competence.
I suspect that some of you have crossed paths with physicians whose competence and/or moral character you found concerning. Were they peers? Were you the individual’s supervisor or was he or she your mentor? How did you respond? Did anyone respond at all?
There has been a lot written and said in recent months about how and when to respond to respond to sexual harassment in the workplace. But I don’t recall reading any articles that discuss how one should respond to incompetence. Of course competency can be a relative term, but in most cases significant incompetence is hard to miss because it tends to be repeated.
It is easy for the airports and subway systems to post signs that say “If you see something say something.” It’s a different story for hospitals and medical schools that may have systems in place for reporting and following up on poor practice. But my sense is that there are too many cases that slip through the cracks.
This is another example of a problem for which I don’t have a solution. However, if this column prompts just one of you who sees something to say something then I have had a good day.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Over the last several decades science has fallen off this country’s radar screen. Yes, STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) has recently had a brief moment in the spotlight as a buzzword de jour. But the critical importance of careful and systematic investigation into the world around us using observation and trial and error is a tough sell to a large segment of our population.
The COVID-19 pandemic is providing an excellent opportunity for science and medicine to showcase their star qualities. Of course some people in leadership positions persist in disregarding the value of scientific investigation. But I get the feeling that the fear generated by the pandemic is creating some converts among many previous science skeptics. This gathering enthusiasm among the general population is a predictably slow process because that’s the way science works. It often doesn’t provide quick answers. And it is difficult for the nonscientist to see the beauty in the reality that the things we thought were true 2 months ago are likely to be proven wrong today as more observations accumulate.
A recent New York Times article examines the career of one such unscrupulous physician/scientist whose recent exploits threaten to undo much of the positive image the pandemic has cast on science (“The Doctor Behind the Disputed Covid Data,” by Ellen Gabler and Roni Caryn Rabin, The New York Times, July 27, 2020). The subject of the article is the physician who was responsible for providing some of the large data sets on which several papers were published about the apparent ineffectiveness and danger of using hydroxychloroquine in COVID-19 patients. The authenticity of the data sets recently has been seriously questioned, and the articles have been retracted by the journals in which they had appeared.
Based on numerous interviews with coworkers, the Times reporters present a strong case that this individual’s long history of unreliability make his association with allegedly fraudulent data set not surprising but maybe even predictable. At one point in his training, there appears to have been serious questions about advancing the physician to the next level. Despite these concerns, he was allowed to continue and complete his specialty training. It is of note that in his last year of clinical practice, the physician became the subject of three serious malpractice claims that question his competence.
I suspect that some of you have crossed paths with physicians whose competence and/or moral character you found concerning. Were they peers? Were you the individual’s supervisor or was he or she your mentor? How did you respond? Did anyone respond at all?
There has been a lot written and said in recent months about how and when to respond to respond to sexual harassment in the workplace. But I don’t recall reading any articles that discuss how one should respond to incompetence. Of course competency can be a relative term, but in most cases significant incompetence is hard to miss because it tends to be repeated.
It is easy for the airports and subway systems to post signs that say “If you see something say something.” It’s a different story for hospitals and medical schools that may have systems in place for reporting and following up on poor practice. But my sense is that there are too many cases that slip through the cracks.
This is another example of a problem for which I don’t have a solution. However, if this column prompts just one of you who sees something to say something then I have had a good day.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Are you SARS-CoV-2 vaccine hesitant?
When the pandemic was just emerging from its infancy and we were just beginning to think about social distancing, I was sitting around enjoying an adult beverage and some gluten free (not my choice) snacks with some friends. A retired nurse who had just celebrated her 80th birthday said, “I can’t wait until they’ve developed a vaccine.” A former electrical engineer sitting just short of 2 meters to her left responded, “Don’t save me a place near the front of the line for something that is being developed in a program called Warp Speed.”
How do you feel about the potential SARS-CoV-2 vaccine? Are you going to roll up your sleeve as soon as the vaccine becomes available in your community? What are you going to suggest to your patients, your children? I suspect many of you will answer, “It depends.”
Will it make any difference to you which biochemical-immune-bending strategy is being used to make the vaccine? All of them will probably be the result of a clever sounding but novel technique, all of them with a track record that is measured in months and not years. Will you be swayed by how large the trials were? Or how long the follow-up lasted? How effective must the vaccine be to convince you that it is worth receiving or recommending? Do you have the tools and experience to make a decision like that? I know I don’t. And should you and I even be put in a position to make that decision?
In the past, you and I may have relied on the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for advice. But given the somewhat murky and stormy relationship between the CDC and the president, the vaccine recommendation may be issued by the White House and not the CDC.
For those of us who were practicing medicine during the Swine Flu fiasco of 1976, the pace and the politics surrounding the development of a SARS-CoV-2 vaccine has a discomforting déjà vu quality about it. The fact that like this year 1976 was an election year that infused the development process with a sense of urgency above and beyond any of the concerns about the pandemic that never happened. Although causality was never proven, there was a surge in Guillain-Barré syndrome cases that had been linked temporally to the vaccine.
Of course, our pandemic is real, and it would be imprudent to wait a year or more to watch for long-term vaccine sequelae. However, I am more than a little concerned that fast tracking the development process may result in unfortunate consequences in the short term that could have been avoided with a more measured approach to trialing the vaccines.
The sad reality is that as a nation we tend to be impatient. We are drawn to quick fixes that come in a vial or a capsule. We are learning that simple measures like mask wearing and social distancing can make a difference in slowing the spread of the virus. It would be tragic to rush a vaccine into production that at best turns out to simply be an expensive alternative to the measures that we know work or at worst injures more of us than it saves.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
When the pandemic was just emerging from its infancy and we were just beginning to think about social distancing, I was sitting around enjoying an adult beverage and some gluten free (not my choice) snacks with some friends. A retired nurse who had just celebrated her 80th birthday said, “I can’t wait until they’ve developed a vaccine.” A former electrical engineer sitting just short of 2 meters to her left responded, “Don’t save me a place near the front of the line for something that is being developed in a program called Warp Speed.”
How do you feel about the potential SARS-CoV-2 vaccine? Are you going to roll up your sleeve as soon as the vaccine becomes available in your community? What are you going to suggest to your patients, your children? I suspect many of you will answer, “It depends.”
Will it make any difference to you which biochemical-immune-bending strategy is being used to make the vaccine? All of them will probably be the result of a clever sounding but novel technique, all of them with a track record that is measured in months and not years. Will you be swayed by how large the trials were? Or how long the follow-up lasted? How effective must the vaccine be to convince you that it is worth receiving or recommending? Do you have the tools and experience to make a decision like that? I know I don’t. And should you and I even be put in a position to make that decision?
In the past, you and I may have relied on the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for advice. But given the somewhat murky and stormy relationship between the CDC and the president, the vaccine recommendation may be issued by the White House and not the CDC.
For those of us who were practicing medicine during the Swine Flu fiasco of 1976, the pace and the politics surrounding the development of a SARS-CoV-2 vaccine has a discomforting déjà vu quality about it. The fact that like this year 1976 was an election year that infused the development process with a sense of urgency above and beyond any of the concerns about the pandemic that never happened. Although causality was never proven, there was a surge in Guillain-Barré syndrome cases that had been linked temporally to the vaccine.
Of course, our pandemic is real, and it would be imprudent to wait a year or more to watch for long-term vaccine sequelae. However, I am more than a little concerned that fast tracking the development process may result in unfortunate consequences in the short term that could have been avoided with a more measured approach to trialing the vaccines.
The sad reality is that as a nation we tend to be impatient. We are drawn to quick fixes that come in a vial or a capsule. We are learning that simple measures like mask wearing and social distancing can make a difference in slowing the spread of the virus. It would be tragic to rush a vaccine into production that at best turns out to simply be an expensive alternative to the measures that we know work or at worst injures more of us than it saves.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
When the pandemic was just emerging from its infancy and we were just beginning to think about social distancing, I was sitting around enjoying an adult beverage and some gluten free (not my choice) snacks with some friends. A retired nurse who had just celebrated her 80th birthday said, “I can’t wait until they’ve developed a vaccine.” A former electrical engineer sitting just short of 2 meters to her left responded, “Don’t save me a place near the front of the line for something that is being developed in a program called Warp Speed.”
How do you feel about the potential SARS-CoV-2 vaccine? Are you going to roll up your sleeve as soon as the vaccine becomes available in your community? What are you going to suggest to your patients, your children? I suspect many of you will answer, “It depends.”
Will it make any difference to you which biochemical-immune-bending strategy is being used to make the vaccine? All of them will probably be the result of a clever sounding but novel technique, all of them with a track record that is measured in months and not years. Will you be swayed by how large the trials were? Or how long the follow-up lasted? How effective must the vaccine be to convince you that it is worth receiving or recommending? Do you have the tools and experience to make a decision like that? I know I don’t. And should you and I even be put in a position to make that decision?
In the past, you and I may have relied on the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for advice. But given the somewhat murky and stormy relationship between the CDC and the president, the vaccine recommendation may be issued by the White House and not the CDC.
For those of us who were practicing medicine during the Swine Flu fiasco of 1976, the pace and the politics surrounding the development of a SARS-CoV-2 vaccine has a discomforting déjà vu quality about it. The fact that like this year 1976 was an election year that infused the development process with a sense of urgency above and beyond any of the concerns about the pandemic that never happened. Although causality was never proven, there was a surge in Guillain-Barré syndrome cases that had been linked temporally to the vaccine.
Of course, our pandemic is real, and it would be imprudent to wait a year or more to watch for long-term vaccine sequelae. However, I am more than a little concerned that fast tracking the development process may result in unfortunate consequences in the short term that could have been avoided with a more measured approach to trialing the vaccines.
The sad reality is that as a nation we tend to be impatient. We are drawn to quick fixes that come in a vial or a capsule. We are learning that simple measures like mask wearing and social distancing can make a difference in slowing the spread of the virus. It would be tragic to rush a vaccine into production that at best turns out to simply be an expensive alternative to the measures that we know work or at worst injures more of us than it saves.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
COVID-19 bits and pieces
It turns out that a pandemic, at least this COVID-19 version, can be a challenge for folks like me who are seldom at a loss for words. The pandemic has so overwhelmed every corner of our lives that it is hard to think of another topic on which to pontificate and still not tromp on someone’s political toes. One can always write about the pandemic itself, and I’ve tried that, but as the curtain is gradually being pulled back on this crafty little germ one runs the risk of making an observation today that will be disproved in a week or 2. However, I can’t suppress my urge to write, and so I have decided to share a few brief random observations. Of course they are related to the pandemic. And of course I realize that there is a better than fifty percent chance that they will be proved wrong by the time you read my next Letters from Maine.
Under the radar
Two of the many mysteries about SARS-CoV-2 involve young children who as a group appear to be less easily infected than adults and even when infected seem to be less likely to spread the disease to other people, particularly adults. One explanation posited by some researchers in France is that young children are less likely to have symptoms such as cough and are less powerful speakers and so might be less likely to spew out a significant number of infected aerosolized droplets (“How to Reopen Schools: What Science and Other Countries Teach Us.” By Pam Belluck, Apoorva Mandavill, and Benedict Carey. New York Times, July 11, 2020). While there are probably several factors to explain this observation, one may be that young children are short, seldom taller than an adult waistline. I suspect the majority of aerosols they emit fall and inactivate harmlessly to the floor several feet below an adult’s nose and mouth. Regardless of the explanation, it appears to be good news for the opening of schools, at least for the early grades.
Forget the deep cleaning
There has been a glut of news stories about reopening schools, and many of these stories are accompanied by images of school custodians with buckets, mops, spray bottles, and sponges scouring desks and walls. The most recent image in our local newspaper was of someone scrubbing the underside of a desk. I know it’s taking the World Health Organization an unconscionable period of time to acknowledge that SARS-CoV-2 is airborne, but the rest of us should have gotten the message long ago and been directing our attention to air handling and ventilation. The urge to scrub and deep clean is a hard habit to break, but this nasty bug is not like influenza or a flesh eating bacteria in which deep cleaning might help. A better image to attach to a story on school reopening would be one of a custodian with a screwdriver struggling to pry open a classroom window that had been painted shut a decade ago.
Managing the inevitable
Middlebury College in Vermont and Bowdoin College here in Brunswick, Maine, are similar in many respects because they are small and situated in relatively isolated small New England towns with good track records for pandemic management. Middlebury has elected to invite all its 2,750 students back to campus, whereas Bowdoin has decided to allow only incoming first years and transfer students (for a total of about 600) to return. Both schools will institute similar testing and social distancing protocols and restrict students from access to their respective towns (“A Tale of 2 Colleges.” By Bill Burger. Inside Higher Ed, June 29,2020). It will be an interesting experiment. I’m voting for Middlebury and not because my son and daughter-in-law are alums, but because I think Middlebury seems to have acknowledged that no matter how diligent one is in creating a SARS-CoV-2–free environment at the outset, these are college kids and there will be some cases on both campuses. It is on how those inevitable realities are managed and contained that an institution should be judged.
Patience
Unfortunately, We always have been a restless and impatient population eager to get moving and it has driven us to greatness. Hopefully, patience will be a lesson that we will learn, along with many others.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
It turns out that a pandemic, at least this COVID-19 version, can be a challenge for folks like me who are seldom at a loss for words. The pandemic has so overwhelmed every corner of our lives that it is hard to think of another topic on which to pontificate and still not tromp on someone’s political toes. One can always write about the pandemic itself, and I’ve tried that, but as the curtain is gradually being pulled back on this crafty little germ one runs the risk of making an observation today that will be disproved in a week or 2. However, I can’t suppress my urge to write, and so I have decided to share a few brief random observations. Of course they are related to the pandemic. And of course I realize that there is a better than fifty percent chance that they will be proved wrong by the time you read my next Letters from Maine.
Under the radar
Two of the many mysteries about SARS-CoV-2 involve young children who as a group appear to be less easily infected than adults and even when infected seem to be less likely to spread the disease to other people, particularly adults. One explanation posited by some researchers in France is that young children are less likely to have symptoms such as cough and are less powerful speakers and so might be less likely to spew out a significant number of infected aerosolized droplets (“How to Reopen Schools: What Science and Other Countries Teach Us.” By Pam Belluck, Apoorva Mandavill, and Benedict Carey. New York Times, July 11, 2020). While there are probably several factors to explain this observation, one may be that young children are short, seldom taller than an adult waistline. I suspect the majority of aerosols they emit fall and inactivate harmlessly to the floor several feet below an adult’s nose and mouth. Regardless of the explanation, it appears to be good news for the opening of schools, at least for the early grades.
Forget the deep cleaning
There has been a glut of news stories about reopening schools, and many of these stories are accompanied by images of school custodians with buckets, mops, spray bottles, and sponges scouring desks and walls. The most recent image in our local newspaper was of someone scrubbing the underside of a desk. I know it’s taking the World Health Organization an unconscionable period of time to acknowledge that SARS-CoV-2 is airborne, but the rest of us should have gotten the message long ago and been directing our attention to air handling and ventilation. The urge to scrub and deep clean is a hard habit to break, but this nasty bug is not like influenza or a flesh eating bacteria in which deep cleaning might help. A better image to attach to a story on school reopening would be one of a custodian with a screwdriver struggling to pry open a classroom window that had been painted shut a decade ago.
Managing the inevitable
Middlebury College in Vermont and Bowdoin College here in Brunswick, Maine, are similar in many respects because they are small and situated in relatively isolated small New England towns with good track records for pandemic management. Middlebury has elected to invite all its 2,750 students back to campus, whereas Bowdoin has decided to allow only incoming first years and transfer students (for a total of about 600) to return. Both schools will institute similar testing and social distancing protocols and restrict students from access to their respective towns (“A Tale of 2 Colleges.” By Bill Burger. Inside Higher Ed, June 29,2020). It will be an interesting experiment. I’m voting for Middlebury and not because my son and daughter-in-law are alums, but because I think Middlebury seems to have acknowledged that no matter how diligent one is in creating a SARS-CoV-2–free environment at the outset, these are college kids and there will be some cases on both campuses. It is on how those inevitable realities are managed and contained that an institution should be judged.
Patience
Unfortunately, We always have been a restless and impatient population eager to get moving and it has driven us to greatness. Hopefully, patience will be a lesson that we will learn, along with many others.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
It turns out that a pandemic, at least this COVID-19 version, can be a challenge for folks like me who are seldom at a loss for words. The pandemic has so overwhelmed every corner of our lives that it is hard to think of another topic on which to pontificate and still not tromp on someone’s political toes. One can always write about the pandemic itself, and I’ve tried that, but as the curtain is gradually being pulled back on this crafty little germ one runs the risk of making an observation today that will be disproved in a week or 2. However, I can’t suppress my urge to write, and so I have decided to share a few brief random observations. Of course they are related to the pandemic. And of course I realize that there is a better than fifty percent chance that they will be proved wrong by the time you read my next Letters from Maine.
Under the radar
Two of the many mysteries about SARS-CoV-2 involve young children who as a group appear to be less easily infected than adults and even when infected seem to be less likely to spread the disease to other people, particularly adults. One explanation posited by some researchers in France is that young children are less likely to have symptoms such as cough and are less powerful speakers and so might be less likely to spew out a significant number of infected aerosolized droplets (“How to Reopen Schools: What Science and Other Countries Teach Us.” By Pam Belluck, Apoorva Mandavill, and Benedict Carey. New York Times, July 11, 2020). While there are probably several factors to explain this observation, one may be that young children are short, seldom taller than an adult waistline. I suspect the majority of aerosols they emit fall and inactivate harmlessly to the floor several feet below an adult’s nose and mouth. Regardless of the explanation, it appears to be good news for the opening of schools, at least for the early grades.
Forget the deep cleaning
There has been a glut of news stories about reopening schools, and many of these stories are accompanied by images of school custodians with buckets, mops, spray bottles, and sponges scouring desks and walls. The most recent image in our local newspaper was of someone scrubbing the underside of a desk. I know it’s taking the World Health Organization an unconscionable period of time to acknowledge that SARS-CoV-2 is airborne, but the rest of us should have gotten the message long ago and been directing our attention to air handling and ventilation. The urge to scrub and deep clean is a hard habit to break, but this nasty bug is not like influenza or a flesh eating bacteria in which deep cleaning might help. A better image to attach to a story on school reopening would be one of a custodian with a screwdriver struggling to pry open a classroom window that had been painted shut a decade ago.
Managing the inevitable
Middlebury College in Vermont and Bowdoin College here in Brunswick, Maine, are similar in many respects because they are small and situated in relatively isolated small New England towns with good track records for pandemic management. Middlebury has elected to invite all its 2,750 students back to campus, whereas Bowdoin has decided to allow only incoming first years and transfer students (for a total of about 600) to return. Both schools will institute similar testing and social distancing protocols and restrict students from access to their respective towns (“A Tale of 2 Colleges.” By Bill Burger. Inside Higher Ed, June 29,2020). It will be an interesting experiment. I’m voting for Middlebury and not because my son and daughter-in-law are alums, but because I think Middlebury seems to have acknowledged that no matter how diligent one is in creating a SARS-CoV-2–free environment at the outset, these are college kids and there will be some cases on both campuses. It is on how those inevitable realities are managed and contained that an institution should be judged.
Patience
Unfortunately, We always have been a restless and impatient population eager to get moving and it has driven us to greatness. Hopefully, patience will be a lesson that we will learn, along with many others.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Got a short attention span?
Have you every wondered whether you have an attention deficit disorder? I have and I suspect that there are plenty of folks who share my curiosity. Realistically I’m pretty sure I don’t have ADD because while I enjoy being physically active my folks never described me as “bouncing off the walls.” Although I think I am very aware of my surroundings and observant, I wouldn’t say I am unusually distractible. I can multitask reasonably well and have been reasonably successful academically and professionally. But the one characteristic I do share with most ADD patients is a short attention span.
Short, of course, is a relative term. Any academic class longer than 45 minutes pushes me past my limit. The same goes for movies and television documentaries. Reading always has been a challenge for me, and 20 minutes is about as long as I can sit with a book or magazine article – even if it’s about a topic that interests me.
Even when I am painting or wood carving, I need to put down my brushes and knives after 20 minutes and do something else. I am a one-set tennis player and about a seven-hole golfer. I have the physical stamina to go much longer, but by the second set or the 10th hole I would prefer to be moving on to some other activity.
In college, I quickly learned that all-nighters were counterproductive. My usual study pattern evolved into one in which I would spend about 20 minutes on one course, take a trip to the refrigerator and return to studying on another course for 20 minutes, then take a break outside to shoot some hoops and return to work for 20 minutes on a third course. This pattern of relatively short bouts of work punctuated by brief snack or exercise breaks seemed to be my most efficient, productive, and mental health–sparing strategy.
Just last week, I learned that there is a name associated with my system. It’s called the Pomodoro technique and was “invented” by a student in an Italian business school in the 1980s (“This Time-Management Trick Changed My Whole Relationship With Time,”By Dean Kissick, The New York Times, June 23, 2020). At its core is a rigid pattern of 25 minutes of work punctuated by 5-minute breaks. The name comes from the tomato-shaped kitchen timer the inventor used to keep himself on a schedule that kept him at optimal efficiency. Of course I have never needed a timer to prompt me to move to another task. My short attention span always has taken care of that.
It turns out that by stumbling into a career in outpatient general pediatrics I found a perfect fit for my truncated attention span. Visits seldom lasted more than 15 minutes followed by a quick sprint to the next room and a fresh and stimulating set of faces and complaints. You may think I should have been spending a minimum of 20 or 25 minutes, but visits of that length seldom fit the realities of my usual day.
There is a myth floating around that there is always a direct correlation between the length of an office visit and its quality. The patient’s perception of quality is most important, and it is based on multiple factors – not the least of which is the level of engagement the physician exhibits. The problem comes when – for whatever reason – closure can’t be achieved in even a 35- or 40-minute visit. Here is when the provider must fall back on her/his clinical artistry by first acknowledging that neither patient nor provider is content with the current situation, but that a follow-up call that evening or an office visit in a day or two will continue the process.
Of course, there were always days when I wish had more time to devote to certain office visits. But for the most part, the hectic pace of outpatient pediatrics fit with my need for a rapidly changing stream of fresh challenges to keep my attention.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Have you every wondered whether you have an attention deficit disorder? I have and I suspect that there are plenty of folks who share my curiosity. Realistically I’m pretty sure I don’t have ADD because while I enjoy being physically active my folks never described me as “bouncing off the walls.” Although I think I am very aware of my surroundings and observant, I wouldn’t say I am unusually distractible. I can multitask reasonably well and have been reasonably successful academically and professionally. But the one characteristic I do share with most ADD patients is a short attention span.
Short, of course, is a relative term. Any academic class longer than 45 minutes pushes me past my limit. The same goes for movies and television documentaries. Reading always has been a challenge for me, and 20 minutes is about as long as I can sit with a book or magazine article – even if it’s about a topic that interests me.
Even when I am painting or wood carving, I need to put down my brushes and knives after 20 minutes and do something else. I am a one-set tennis player and about a seven-hole golfer. I have the physical stamina to go much longer, but by the second set or the 10th hole I would prefer to be moving on to some other activity.
In college, I quickly learned that all-nighters were counterproductive. My usual study pattern evolved into one in which I would spend about 20 minutes on one course, take a trip to the refrigerator and return to studying on another course for 20 minutes, then take a break outside to shoot some hoops and return to work for 20 minutes on a third course. This pattern of relatively short bouts of work punctuated by brief snack or exercise breaks seemed to be my most efficient, productive, and mental health–sparing strategy.
Just last week, I learned that there is a name associated with my system. It’s called the Pomodoro technique and was “invented” by a student in an Italian business school in the 1980s (“This Time-Management Trick Changed My Whole Relationship With Time,”By Dean Kissick, The New York Times, June 23, 2020). At its core is a rigid pattern of 25 minutes of work punctuated by 5-minute breaks. The name comes from the tomato-shaped kitchen timer the inventor used to keep himself on a schedule that kept him at optimal efficiency. Of course I have never needed a timer to prompt me to move to another task. My short attention span always has taken care of that.
It turns out that by stumbling into a career in outpatient general pediatrics I found a perfect fit for my truncated attention span. Visits seldom lasted more than 15 minutes followed by a quick sprint to the next room and a fresh and stimulating set of faces and complaints. You may think I should have been spending a minimum of 20 or 25 minutes, but visits of that length seldom fit the realities of my usual day.
There is a myth floating around that there is always a direct correlation between the length of an office visit and its quality. The patient’s perception of quality is most important, and it is based on multiple factors – not the least of which is the level of engagement the physician exhibits. The problem comes when – for whatever reason – closure can’t be achieved in even a 35- or 40-minute visit. Here is when the provider must fall back on her/his clinical artistry by first acknowledging that neither patient nor provider is content with the current situation, but that a follow-up call that evening or an office visit in a day or two will continue the process.
Of course, there were always days when I wish had more time to devote to certain office visits. But for the most part, the hectic pace of outpatient pediatrics fit with my need for a rapidly changing stream of fresh challenges to keep my attention.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Have you every wondered whether you have an attention deficit disorder? I have and I suspect that there are plenty of folks who share my curiosity. Realistically I’m pretty sure I don’t have ADD because while I enjoy being physically active my folks never described me as “bouncing off the walls.” Although I think I am very aware of my surroundings and observant, I wouldn’t say I am unusually distractible. I can multitask reasonably well and have been reasonably successful academically and professionally. But the one characteristic I do share with most ADD patients is a short attention span.
Short, of course, is a relative term. Any academic class longer than 45 minutes pushes me past my limit. The same goes for movies and television documentaries. Reading always has been a challenge for me, and 20 minutes is about as long as I can sit with a book or magazine article – even if it’s about a topic that interests me.
Even when I am painting or wood carving, I need to put down my brushes and knives after 20 minutes and do something else. I am a one-set tennis player and about a seven-hole golfer. I have the physical stamina to go much longer, but by the second set or the 10th hole I would prefer to be moving on to some other activity.
In college, I quickly learned that all-nighters were counterproductive. My usual study pattern evolved into one in which I would spend about 20 minutes on one course, take a trip to the refrigerator and return to studying on another course for 20 minutes, then take a break outside to shoot some hoops and return to work for 20 minutes on a third course. This pattern of relatively short bouts of work punctuated by brief snack or exercise breaks seemed to be my most efficient, productive, and mental health–sparing strategy.
Just last week, I learned that there is a name associated with my system. It’s called the Pomodoro technique and was “invented” by a student in an Italian business school in the 1980s (“This Time-Management Trick Changed My Whole Relationship With Time,”By Dean Kissick, The New York Times, June 23, 2020). At its core is a rigid pattern of 25 minutes of work punctuated by 5-minute breaks. The name comes from the tomato-shaped kitchen timer the inventor used to keep himself on a schedule that kept him at optimal efficiency. Of course I have never needed a timer to prompt me to move to another task. My short attention span always has taken care of that.
It turns out that by stumbling into a career in outpatient general pediatrics I found a perfect fit for my truncated attention span. Visits seldom lasted more than 15 minutes followed by a quick sprint to the next room and a fresh and stimulating set of faces and complaints. You may think I should have been spending a minimum of 20 or 25 minutes, but visits of that length seldom fit the realities of my usual day.
There is a myth floating around that there is always a direct correlation between the length of an office visit and its quality. The patient’s perception of quality is most important, and it is based on multiple factors – not the least of which is the level of engagement the physician exhibits. The problem comes when – for whatever reason – closure can’t be achieved in even a 35- or 40-minute visit. Here is when the provider must fall back on her/his clinical artistry by first acknowledging that neither patient nor provider is content with the current situation, but that a follow-up call that evening or an office visit in a day or two will continue the process.
Of course, there were always days when I wish had more time to devote to certain office visits. But for the most part, the hectic pace of outpatient pediatrics fit with my need for a rapidly changing stream of fresh challenges to keep my attention.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Behind the mask
Bicycling has always been part of who I am because it offered me the freedom to explore as a preteen. As an adult I have always been a bicycle commuter and a very visible part of the community as I pedal around town to do my errands. But, I didn’t always wear a helmet ... because well, I just didn’t. I saw the helmet as a nuisance with very little benefit to myself. Eventually, when bike races required helmets I bought one just for the competitions. Until one day about 30 years ago when the mother of a child I was seeing in the office said, “Dr. Wilkoff, you know as an influential member of this community, particularly its children, you should be wearing a helmet.” My wife had been badgering me for years but this woman’s courage to speak up embarrassed me into changing my ways.
For some, maybe many, people, wearing a mask during the COVID-19 pandemic is a nuisance and an assault on their independence just as I viewed a bicycle helmet. Initially there was some information being circulated that any mask less robust than a N-95 had very little if any effect, either as protection or as way to decrease spread. I certainly had my doubts about the value of mask other than as a statement of solidarity. However, we are now learning that masks can serve an important role along with social distancing in a comprehensive community effort to minimize contagion.
In light of this new information, why are there are still people who won’t wear a mask? It may be that they are receiving their news filtered through a lens that discredits science. But, it is more likely the result of the same mindset that permeates the anti-vaccine faction that the common good is less important than personal freedom to follow their beliefs.
Do we have any tools at our disposal to increase the number of folks wearing masks? Based on our experience with attempts to convince those who are anti-vaccine, education will be ineffective in shifting the focus from personal freedom to a commitment to the welfare of the community at large. Shaming might be effective, but it runs the risk of igniting conflicts and further widening the gaps in our society. Some establishments have been effective in simply saying “no mask, no entry,” but this runs the same risk of creating friction depending on the community and the situation.
The ship may have already sailed on our best opportunity to achieve community compliance when the leaders of our national government have chosen to ignore their obligation to set an example by refusing to wear masks. I fear that the wedge has already been set and the widening of the gap between those who see their responsibility to the community at large and those who do not will continue to grow.
I am fortunate to live in a town whose residents look out for each other and have relied on local leaders to set an example in the absence of leadership on a national level.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Bicycling has always been part of who I am because it offered me the freedom to explore as a preteen. As an adult I have always been a bicycle commuter and a very visible part of the community as I pedal around town to do my errands. But, I didn’t always wear a helmet ... because well, I just didn’t. I saw the helmet as a nuisance with very little benefit to myself. Eventually, when bike races required helmets I bought one just for the competitions. Until one day about 30 years ago when the mother of a child I was seeing in the office said, “Dr. Wilkoff, you know as an influential member of this community, particularly its children, you should be wearing a helmet.” My wife had been badgering me for years but this woman’s courage to speak up embarrassed me into changing my ways.
For some, maybe many, people, wearing a mask during the COVID-19 pandemic is a nuisance and an assault on their independence just as I viewed a bicycle helmet. Initially there was some information being circulated that any mask less robust than a N-95 had very little if any effect, either as protection or as way to decrease spread. I certainly had my doubts about the value of mask other than as a statement of solidarity. However, we are now learning that masks can serve an important role along with social distancing in a comprehensive community effort to minimize contagion.
In light of this new information, why are there are still people who won’t wear a mask? It may be that they are receiving their news filtered through a lens that discredits science. But, it is more likely the result of the same mindset that permeates the anti-vaccine faction that the common good is less important than personal freedom to follow their beliefs.
Do we have any tools at our disposal to increase the number of folks wearing masks? Based on our experience with attempts to convince those who are anti-vaccine, education will be ineffective in shifting the focus from personal freedom to a commitment to the welfare of the community at large. Shaming might be effective, but it runs the risk of igniting conflicts and further widening the gaps in our society. Some establishments have been effective in simply saying “no mask, no entry,” but this runs the same risk of creating friction depending on the community and the situation.
The ship may have already sailed on our best opportunity to achieve community compliance when the leaders of our national government have chosen to ignore their obligation to set an example by refusing to wear masks. I fear that the wedge has already been set and the widening of the gap between those who see their responsibility to the community at large and those who do not will continue to grow.
I am fortunate to live in a town whose residents look out for each other and have relied on local leaders to set an example in the absence of leadership on a national level.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Bicycling has always been part of who I am because it offered me the freedom to explore as a preteen. As an adult I have always been a bicycle commuter and a very visible part of the community as I pedal around town to do my errands. But, I didn’t always wear a helmet ... because well, I just didn’t. I saw the helmet as a nuisance with very little benefit to myself. Eventually, when bike races required helmets I bought one just for the competitions. Until one day about 30 years ago when the mother of a child I was seeing in the office said, “Dr. Wilkoff, you know as an influential member of this community, particularly its children, you should be wearing a helmet.” My wife had been badgering me for years but this woman’s courage to speak up embarrassed me into changing my ways.
For some, maybe many, people, wearing a mask during the COVID-19 pandemic is a nuisance and an assault on their independence just as I viewed a bicycle helmet. Initially there was some information being circulated that any mask less robust than a N-95 had very little if any effect, either as protection or as way to decrease spread. I certainly had my doubts about the value of mask other than as a statement of solidarity. However, we are now learning that masks can serve an important role along with social distancing in a comprehensive community effort to minimize contagion.
In light of this new information, why are there are still people who won’t wear a mask? It may be that they are receiving their news filtered through a lens that discredits science. But, it is more likely the result of the same mindset that permeates the anti-vaccine faction that the common good is less important than personal freedom to follow their beliefs.
Do we have any tools at our disposal to increase the number of folks wearing masks? Based on our experience with attempts to convince those who are anti-vaccine, education will be ineffective in shifting the focus from personal freedom to a commitment to the welfare of the community at large. Shaming might be effective, but it runs the risk of igniting conflicts and further widening the gaps in our society. Some establishments have been effective in simply saying “no mask, no entry,” but this runs the same risk of creating friction depending on the community and the situation.
The ship may have already sailed on our best opportunity to achieve community compliance when the leaders of our national government have chosen to ignore their obligation to set an example by refusing to wear masks. I fear that the wedge has already been set and the widening of the gap between those who see their responsibility to the community at large and those who do not will continue to grow.
I am fortunate to live in a town whose residents look out for each other and have relied on local leaders to set an example in the absence of leadership on a national level.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
School daze
A few weeks ago I was asked by the head of our local parks and recreation department for my opinion on whether the town should open its summer recreation camps program. He had been receiving multiple inquiries from parents who in the past had relied on the day camps for day care. The director already had surveyed health care administrators and other providers in the town and his team had crafted a plan based on what guidelines they could glean from state and federal advisory groups. The feedback he had received from town officials and health care representatives was that they felt opening would be a bad decision. One physician observed that there is just “so much we don’t know about the virus at this point.”
I certainly agreed that we still have much to learn about COVID-19, but I told the director that we know enough that I would feel comfortable with opening the day camps, which have traditionally been held outdoors under open-sided tents. If group sizes were kept small, staff personnel were dedicated to just one group, and temperatures were taken at the beginning and at the midpoint of each daily session, I felt that the risk of triggering an outbreak was small. I told him that in my mind the Achilles heel of the plan was whether the camp staff, who are generally high school and college-age young people, could be trusted to follow rigorous social distancing in their off-work hours.
Eventually the decision was made by the traditionally risk-averse town officials to open the camps. I hope that this step forward will spur the process of reopening the schools in the fall by demonstrating that, at least in an open-air environment, some simple common sense measures could create a safe environment for children to congregate in. Unfortunately, the long delay in formulating the plan and a basic hesitancy on the part of some parents has resulted in disappointing enrollment figures so far.
I suspect that many of you have been asked to participate in the planning and decision-making processes for opening the school systems in your community or at least have some thoughts of your own about how best to begin the reopening process.
I suspect you agree that, if the number of new cases detected each day in your state is still rising and/or your state’s ability to test, track, case find, and quarantine is inadequate, reopening schools is probably just asking for trouble. However, a recent study has found that children and young adults under the age of 20 years were almost half as likely to become infected as those over the age of 20 (Nat Med. 2020 Jun 16. doi: 10.1038/s41591-020-0962-9). We already know that, in general, children are presenting with less severe illness. Although the authors observe that we still need to learn more about the transmissibility of subclinical infections, particularly in children, they suggest that “interventions aimed at children might have relatively little impact on reducing SARS-CoV-2 transmission.” It is sounding like reopening schools will place the children at relatively low risk. However, until we know more about transmissibility we have to assume reopening schools may place the community at an increased risk.
If this new information is confirmed by other studies, how would this change the recommendations you would make to the community about reopening its schools? What about masks? We are learning that they make a difference for adults, but is this true for very young children as well? Masks should probably remain part of the hygiene education program as well for at least the foreseeable future.
Do you think your school system can broaden its focus beyond surface cleaning to air handling and ventilation? Here in Maine, keeping the windows open for more than a few weeks a year is going to present problems that may be expensive to remedy.
There are always more questions than answers, but my hope is that here in Maine our apparent success on a state level will allow us to reopen the schools as long as we remain vigilant for the first signs that we need to return to lock down. How do you feel about your community’s situation?
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
A few weeks ago I was asked by the head of our local parks and recreation department for my opinion on whether the town should open its summer recreation camps program. He had been receiving multiple inquiries from parents who in the past had relied on the day camps for day care. The director already had surveyed health care administrators and other providers in the town and his team had crafted a plan based on what guidelines they could glean from state and federal advisory groups. The feedback he had received from town officials and health care representatives was that they felt opening would be a bad decision. One physician observed that there is just “so much we don’t know about the virus at this point.”
I certainly agreed that we still have much to learn about COVID-19, but I told the director that we know enough that I would feel comfortable with opening the day camps, which have traditionally been held outdoors under open-sided tents. If group sizes were kept small, staff personnel were dedicated to just one group, and temperatures were taken at the beginning and at the midpoint of each daily session, I felt that the risk of triggering an outbreak was small. I told him that in my mind the Achilles heel of the plan was whether the camp staff, who are generally high school and college-age young people, could be trusted to follow rigorous social distancing in their off-work hours.
Eventually the decision was made by the traditionally risk-averse town officials to open the camps. I hope that this step forward will spur the process of reopening the schools in the fall by demonstrating that, at least in an open-air environment, some simple common sense measures could create a safe environment for children to congregate in. Unfortunately, the long delay in formulating the plan and a basic hesitancy on the part of some parents has resulted in disappointing enrollment figures so far.
I suspect that many of you have been asked to participate in the planning and decision-making processes for opening the school systems in your community or at least have some thoughts of your own about how best to begin the reopening process.
I suspect you agree that, if the number of new cases detected each day in your state is still rising and/or your state’s ability to test, track, case find, and quarantine is inadequate, reopening schools is probably just asking for trouble. However, a recent study has found that children and young adults under the age of 20 years were almost half as likely to become infected as those over the age of 20 (Nat Med. 2020 Jun 16. doi: 10.1038/s41591-020-0962-9). We already know that, in general, children are presenting with less severe illness. Although the authors observe that we still need to learn more about the transmissibility of subclinical infections, particularly in children, they suggest that “interventions aimed at children might have relatively little impact on reducing SARS-CoV-2 transmission.” It is sounding like reopening schools will place the children at relatively low risk. However, until we know more about transmissibility we have to assume reopening schools may place the community at an increased risk.
If this new information is confirmed by other studies, how would this change the recommendations you would make to the community about reopening its schools? What about masks? We are learning that they make a difference for adults, but is this true for very young children as well? Masks should probably remain part of the hygiene education program as well for at least the foreseeable future.
Do you think your school system can broaden its focus beyond surface cleaning to air handling and ventilation? Here in Maine, keeping the windows open for more than a few weeks a year is going to present problems that may be expensive to remedy.
There are always more questions than answers, but my hope is that here in Maine our apparent success on a state level will allow us to reopen the schools as long as we remain vigilant for the first signs that we need to return to lock down. How do you feel about your community’s situation?
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
A few weeks ago I was asked by the head of our local parks and recreation department for my opinion on whether the town should open its summer recreation camps program. He had been receiving multiple inquiries from parents who in the past had relied on the day camps for day care. The director already had surveyed health care administrators and other providers in the town and his team had crafted a plan based on what guidelines they could glean from state and federal advisory groups. The feedback he had received from town officials and health care representatives was that they felt opening would be a bad decision. One physician observed that there is just “so much we don’t know about the virus at this point.”
I certainly agreed that we still have much to learn about COVID-19, but I told the director that we know enough that I would feel comfortable with opening the day camps, which have traditionally been held outdoors under open-sided tents. If group sizes were kept small, staff personnel were dedicated to just one group, and temperatures were taken at the beginning and at the midpoint of each daily session, I felt that the risk of triggering an outbreak was small. I told him that in my mind the Achilles heel of the plan was whether the camp staff, who are generally high school and college-age young people, could be trusted to follow rigorous social distancing in their off-work hours.
Eventually the decision was made by the traditionally risk-averse town officials to open the camps. I hope that this step forward will spur the process of reopening the schools in the fall by demonstrating that, at least in an open-air environment, some simple common sense measures could create a safe environment for children to congregate in. Unfortunately, the long delay in formulating the plan and a basic hesitancy on the part of some parents has resulted in disappointing enrollment figures so far.
I suspect that many of you have been asked to participate in the planning and decision-making processes for opening the school systems in your community or at least have some thoughts of your own about how best to begin the reopening process.
I suspect you agree that, if the number of new cases detected each day in your state is still rising and/or your state’s ability to test, track, case find, and quarantine is inadequate, reopening schools is probably just asking for trouble. However, a recent study has found that children and young adults under the age of 20 years were almost half as likely to become infected as those over the age of 20 (Nat Med. 2020 Jun 16. doi: 10.1038/s41591-020-0962-9). We already know that, in general, children are presenting with less severe illness. Although the authors observe that we still need to learn more about the transmissibility of subclinical infections, particularly in children, they suggest that “interventions aimed at children might have relatively little impact on reducing SARS-CoV-2 transmission.” It is sounding like reopening schools will place the children at relatively low risk. However, until we know more about transmissibility we have to assume reopening schools may place the community at an increased risk.
If this new information is confirmed by other studies, how would this change the recommendations you would make to the community about reopening its schools? What about masks? We are learning that they make a difference for adults, but is this true for very young children as well? Masks should probably remain part of the hygiene education program as well for at least the foreseeable future.
Do you think your school system can broaden its focus beyond surface cleaning to air handling and ventilation? Here in Maine, keeping the windows open for more than a few weeks a year is going to present problems that may be expensive to remedy.
There are always more questions than answers, but my hope is that here in Maine our apparent success on a state level will allow us to reopen the schools as long as we remain vigilant for the first signs that we need to return to lock down. How do you feel about your community’s situation?
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
The grocery store hug
I grew up in a family that was pretty much devoid of physical demonstrations of affection. I certainly felt that my folks loved me, but there was no hugging. I don’t recall ever seeing my parents kiss or touch each other. My dad would occasionally physically tease my mother. For example, I can remember one incident at the dinner table when he was playfully and gently laying a hand on my mother’s arm just as she was raising her fork to her mouth. After about three of these gentle holds, she lifted her water glass and tossed its contents in his face. This was the full extent of physicality in our family.
It wasn’t just my parents. I can’t remember aunts or uncles or cousins ever hugging us when we met. Grandmothers of course would request a hug. I never knew either of my grandfathers, but I suspect they would not have been the hugging kind.
I never felt I was missing out on anything, because in the generally WASPish atmosphere of the community in which I grew up I saw very few public displays of affection. But somewhere over time, hugging crept into the American repertoire of expression. This incursion may have been a ripple effect from the flower power, free love hippiedom of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Or it may have been a symptom of globalization as Americans became more familiar with other cultures in which physical expression was more common.
Whatever the reason for the more widespread adoption of hugging in our social vocabulary with my somewhat physically impoverished upbringing, it took me longer than most folks to comfortably include it in my greeting options. Although I may have come to the dance late, I have fully adopted hugging as a way to greet people with whom I have more than a passing acquaintance.
In fact, the ability to comfortably hug former coworkers, old friends I haven’t seen in years, and parents with whom I had shared a particularly troublesome child is what I miss most about the restrictions that have come with the COVID-19 pandemic. Now when I meet folks in the grocery store with whom I share a special affection that magnetic spark still leaps between our eyes, just visible over our face masks, but mentally and physically we take a step back and say to ourselves that this hug shouldn’t happen and it isn’t going to happen. And that makes me sad.
One of the great perks of practicing pediatrics in a small town and then remaining there in retirement is that nearly every week I encounter one or two people with whom I have a long and sometimes emotionally charged relationship. Nurses with whom I sweated over difficult delivery room resuscitations. Parents for whom their anxiety was getting in the way of their ability to parent. Parents and caregivers of complex multiply disabled children who are now adults. Peers who have lost a spouse or a child.
I can envision a day sometime in the relatively near future that I will be able to hug my two grandchildren whom I haven’t hugged even though they live a short 10-minute walk away. But I have trouble imagining when I will again be able to enjoy and be enriched by those special grocery store hugs that I have grown to savor.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
I grew up in a family that was pretty much devoid of physical demonstrations of affection. I certainly felt that my folks loved me, but there was no hugging. I don’t recall ever seeing my parents kiss or touch each other. My dad would occasionally physically tease my mother. For example, I can remember one incident at the dinner table when he was playfully and gently laying a hand on my mother’s arm just as she was raising her fork to her mouth. After about three of these gentle holds, she lifted her water glass and tossed its contents in his face. This was the full extent of physicality in our family.
It wasn’t just my parents. I can’t remember aunts or uncles or cousins ever hugging us when we met. Grandmothers of course would request a hug. I never knew either of my grandfathers, but I suspect they would not have been the hugging kind.
I never felt I was missing out on anything, because in the generally WASPish atmosphere of the community in which I grew up I saw very few public displays of affection. But somewhere over time, hugging crept into the American repertoire of expression. This incursion may have been a ripple effect from the flower power, free love hippiedom of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Or it may have been a symptom of globalization as Americans became more familiar with other cultures in which physical expression was more common.
Whatever the reason for the more widespread adoption of hugging in our social vocabulary with my somewhat physically impoverished upbringing, it took me longer than most folks to comfortably include it in my greeting options. Although I may have come to the dance late, I have fully adopted hugging as a way to greet people with whom I have more than a passing acquaintance.
In fact, the ability to comfortably hug former coworkers, old friends I haven’t seen in years, and parents with whom I had shared a particularly troublesome child is what I miss most about the restrictions that have come with the COVID-19 pandemic. Now when I meet folks in the grocery store with whom I share a special affection that magnetic spark still leaps between our eyes, just visible over our face masks, but mentally and physically we take a step back and say to ourselves that this hug shouldn’t happen and it isn’t going to happen. And that makes me sad.
One of the great perks of practicing pediatrics in a small town and then remaining there in retirement is that nearly every week I encounter one or two people with whom I have a long and sometimes emotionally charged relationship. Nurses with whom I sweated over difficult delivery room resuscitations. Parents for whom their anxiety was getting in the way of their ability to parent. Parents and caregivers of complex multiply disabled children who are now adults. Peers who have lost a spouse or a child.
I can envision a day sometime in the relatively near future that I will be able to hug my two grandchildren whom I haven’t hugged even though they live a short 10-minute walk away. But I have trouble imagining when I will again be able to enjoy and be enriched by those special grocery store hugs that I have grown to savor.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
I grew up in a family that was pretty much devoid of physical demonstrations of affection. I certainly felt that my folks loved me, but there was no hugging. I don’t recall ever seeing my parents kiss or touch each other. My dad would occasionally physically tease my mother. For example, I can remember one incident at the dinner table when he was playfully and gently laying a hand on my mother’s arm just as she was raising her fork to her mouth. After about three of these gentle holds, she lifted her water glass and tossed its contents in his face. This was the full extent of physicality in our family.
It wasn’t just my parents. I can’t remember aunts or uncles or cousins ever hugging us when we met. Grandmothers of course would request a hug. I never knew either of my grandfathers, but I suspect they would not have been the hugging kind.
I never felt I was missing out on anything, because in the generally WASPish atmosphere of the community in which I grew up I saw very few public displays of affection. But somewhere over time, hugging crept into the American repertoire of expression. This incursion may have been a ripple effect from the flower power, free love hippiedom of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Or it may have been a symptom of globalization as Americans became more familiar with other cultures in which physical expression was more common.
Whatever the reason for the more widespread adoption of hugging in our social vocabulary with my somewhat physically impoverished upbringing, it took me longer than most folks to comfortably include it in my greeting options. Although I may have come to the dance late, I have fully adopted hugging as a way to greet people with whom I have more than a passing acquaintance.
In fact, the ability to comfortably hug former coworkers, old friends I haven’t seen in years, and parents with whom I had shared a particularly troublesome child is what I miss most about the restrictions that have come with the COVID-19 pandemic. Now when I meet folks in the grocery store with whom I share a special affection that magnetic spark still leaps between our eyes, just visible over our face masks, but mentally and physically we take a step back and say to ourselves that this hug shouldn’t happen and it isn’t going to happen. And that makes me sad.
One of the great perks of practicing pediatrics in a small town and then remaining there in retirement is that nearly every week I encounter one or two people with whom I have a long and sometimes emotionally charged relationship. Nurses with whom I sweated over difficult delivery room resuscitations. Parents for whom their anxiety was getting in the way of their ability to parent. Parents and caregivers of complex multiply disabled children who are now adults. Peers who have lost a spouse or a child.
I can envision a day sometime in the relatively near future that I will be able to hug my two grandchildren whom I haven’t hugged even though they live a short 10-minute walk away. But I have trouble imagining when I will again be able to enjoy and be enriched by those special grocery store hugs that I have grown to savor.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
On being nonessential
I don’t need to tell you that the COVID-19 pandemic has leveled a major hit on outpatient pediatrics. Offices that once had waiting rooms overflowing with tantruming toddlers and anxious adolescents are empty. With income slowed to trickle, support staff has had to be furloughed. Student loans, mortgage loans, and car payments are stretching the budgets of even the most cautious spenders. In many parts of the country, it is an economic apocalypse for outpatient physicians who once saw their jobs as financially secure. Despite the persistent efforts of the American Academy of Pediatrics, pediatricians have been left off the list of recipients for financial support from the federal government.
The recent marketing initiative labeled “Call Your Pediatrician” sounds like an S.O.S. As I mentioned in a recent Letters from Maine column, I never envisioned a scenario in which I wouldn’t be busy and paying the bills if I continued to show up in the office at least 5 days a week. I guess I never thought of my work as a general pediatrician in terms of essentialness. The issue of being essential just wasn’t something anyone ever thought about. I guess if you had asked me, I would have admitted that, compared with some other health care providers, what I did was low on the essential scale. But I figured enough people thought what I provided was of sufficient value that they would pay to come see me.
If I step back and look at what of all the things I did as a pediatrician might be considered essential, it boils down to providing immunizations. If you remove my delivery room experience from the picture, there were very few instances when I might have saved a life. I hope that I calmed a lot of anxious parents and gave them some suggestions that made the job of parenting a bit easier. But while my efforts may have seemed valuable at the time, they certainly wouldn’t pass the straight-faced test of essentialness that is being applied during this pandemic. The young man or woman who stocks the toilet paper shelves at the grocery store and who accepts the risk of contagion working behind the cash register would certainly win more votes than I would garner.
So it is not surprising, given the scope of the pandemic and the anxiety compounded by what we don’t know about the virus, that office pediatrics has been left out in the cold when federal financial support is being handed out. I’m certainly not saying the oversight is warranted. It’s just not surprising. Outpatient pediatricians have always been there and it is unfortunately assumed that we will continue to be there when this whole thing blows over and we are needed again.
The failure to support pediatric offices is shortsighted because, even when we return to the new normal, pediatricians will again be valued. However, without financial support some offices will close and some support staff and physicians will leave the practice of pediatrics. It has been suggested that in the wake of the pandemic, the demand for mental health support for children may increase. The new normal may see our patient mix shift even further toward behavioral problems.
For whatever reason, COVID-19 appears to attack the older end of the age spectrum. It is very possible that the next pandemic targets children. If that happens, whether or not we are considered essential will not be one of our worries.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Updated on 6/10/2020
I don’t need to tell you that the COVID-19 pandemic has leveled a major hit on outpatient pediatrics. Offices that once had waiting rooms overflowing with tantruming toddlers and anxious adolescents are empty. With income slowed to trickle, support staff has had to be furloughed. Student loans, mortgage loans, and car payments are stretching the budgets of even the most cautious spenders. In many parts of the country, it is an economic apocalypse for outpatient physicians who once saw their jobs as financially secure. Despite the persistent efforts of the American Academy of Pediatrics, pediatricians have been left off the list of recipients for financial support from the federal government.
The recent marketing initiative labeled “Call Your Pediatrician” sounds like an S.O.S. As I mentioned in a recent Letters from Maine column, I never envisioned a scenario in which I wouldn’t be busy and paying the bills if I continued to show up in the office at least 5 days a week. I guess I never thought of my work as a general pediatrician in terms of essentialness. The issue of being essential just wasn’t something anyone ever thought about. I guess if you had asked me, I would have admitted that, compared with some other health care providers, what I did was low on the essential scale. But I figured enough people thought what I provided was of sufficient value that they would pay to come see me.
If I step back and look at what of all the things I did as a pediatrician might be considered essential, it boils down to providing immunizations. If you remove my delivery room experience from the picture, there were very few instances when I might have saved a life. I hope that I calmed a lot of anxious parents and gave them some suggestions that made the job of parenting a bit easier. But while my efforts may have seemed valuable at the time, they certainly wouldn’t pass the straight-faced test of essentialness that is being applied during this pandemic. The young man or woman who stocks the toilet paper shelves at the grocery store and who accepts the risk of contagion working behind the cash register would certainly win more votes than I would garner.
So it is not surprising, given the scope of the pandemic and the anxiety compounded by what we don’t know about the virus, that office pediatrics has been left out in the cold when federal financial support is being handed out. I’m certainly not saying the oversight is warranted. It’s just not surprising. Outpatient pediatricians have always been there and it is unfortunately assumed that we will continue to be there when this whole thing blows over and we are needed again.
The failure to support pediatric offices is shortsighted because, even when we return to the new normal, pediatricians will again be valued. However, without financial support some offices will close and some support staff and physicians will leave the practice of pediatrics. It has been suggested that in the wake of the pandemic, the demand for mental health support for children may increase. The new normal may see our patient mix shift even further toward behavioral problems.
For whatever reason, COVID-19 appears to attack the older end of the age spectrum. It is very possible that the next pandemic targets children. If that happens, whether or not we are considered essential will not be one of our worries.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Updated on 6/10/2020
I don’t need to tell you that the COVID-19 pandemic has leveled a major hit on outpatient pediatrics. Offices that once had waiting rooms overflowing with tantruming toddlers and anxious adolescents are empty. With income slowed to trickle, support staff has had to be furloughed. Student loans, mortgage loans, and car payments are stretching the budgets of even the most cautious spenders. In many parts of the country, it is an economic apocalypse for outpatient physicians who once saw their jobs as financially secure. Despite the persistent efforts of the American Academy of Pediatrics, pediatricians have been left off the list of recipients for financial support from the federal government.
The recent marketing initiative labeled “Call Your Pediatrician” sounds like an S.O.S. As I mentioned in a recent Letters from Maine column, I never envisioned a scenario in which I wouldn’t be busy and paying the bills if I continued to show up in the office at least 5 days a week. I guess I never thought of my work as a general pediatrician in terms of essentialness. The issue of being essential just wasn’t something anyone ever thought about. I guess if you had asked me, I would have admitted that, compared with some other health care providers, what I did was low on the essential scale. But I figured enough people thought what I provided was of sufficient value that they would pay to come see me.
If I step back and look at what of all the things I did as a pediatrician might be considered essential, it boils down to providing immunizations. If you remove my delivery room experience from the picture, there were very few instances when I might have saved a life. I hope that I calmed a lot of anxious parents and gave them some suggestions that made the job of parenting a bit easier. But while my efforts may have seemed valuable at the time, they certainly wouldn’t pass the straight-faced test of essentialness that is being applied during this pandemic. The young man or woman who stocks the toilet paper shelves at the grocery store and who accepts the risk of contagion working behind the cash register would certainly win more votes than I would garner.
So it is not surprising, given the scope of the pandemic and the anxiety compounded by what we don’t know about the virus, that office pediatrics has been left out in the cold when federal financial support is being handed out. I’m certainly not saying the oversight is warranted. It’s just not surprising. Outpatient pediatricians have always been there and it is unfortunately assumed that we will continue to be there when this whole thing blows over and we are needed again.
The failure to support pediatric offices is shortsighted because, even when we return to the new normal, pediatricians will again be valued. However, without financial support some offices will close and some support staff and physicians will leave the practice of pediatrics. It has been suggested that in the wake of the pandemic, the demand for mental health support for children may increase. The new normal may see our patient mix shift even further toward behavioral problems.
For whatever reason, COVID-19 appears to attack the older end of the age spectrum. It is very possible that the next pandemic targets children. If that happens, whether or not we are considered essential will not be one of our worries.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Updated on 6/10/2020
Is HIPAA critical?
Ignorance may be bliss for some. But as I sit here in my scenic social isolation on the Maine coast I find that, like most people, what I don’t know unsettles me. How is the COVID-19 virus spread? Does my wife’s wipe down of the doorknobs after I return from the grocery store really make us any less likely to contract the virus? Is wearing my homemade bandana face mask doing anything to protect me? I suspect not, but I wear it as a statement of courtesy and solidarity to my fellow community members.
Does the 6-foot rule make any sense? I’ve read that it is based on a study dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen images of the 25-foot droplet plume blasting out from a sneeze and understand that, as a bicyclist, I may be generating a shower of droplets in my wake. But, are those droplets a threat to anyone I pedal by if I am symptom free? What does being a carrier mean when we are talking about COVID-19?
What makes me more vulnerable to this particular virus as an apparently healthy septuagenarian? What collection of misfortunes have fallen on those younger victims of the pandemic? How often was it genetic?
Of course, none of us has the information yet that can provide us answers. This vacuum has attracted scores of “experts” bold enough or careless enough to venture an opinion. They may have also issued a caveat, but how often have the media failed to include it in the report or buried it in the fine print at the end of the story?
My discomfort with this information void has left me and you and everyone else to our imaginations to craft our own explanations. So, I try to piece together a construct based on what I can glean from what I read and see in the news because like most people I fortunately have no first-hand information about even a single case. The number of deaths is horrifying, but may not have hit close to home and given most of us a real personal sense of the illness and its character.
Maine is a small state with just over a million inhabitants, and most of us have some connection to one another. It may be that a person is the second cousin of someone who used to live 2 miles down the road. But, there is some feeling of familiarity. We have had deaths related to COVID-19, but very scanty information other than the county about where they occurred and whether the victim was a resident of an extended care facility. We are told very little if any details about exposure as officials invoke HIPAA regulations that leave us in the dark. Other than one vague reference to a “traveling salesman” who may have introduced the virus to several nursing homes, there has been very little information about how the virus may have been spread here in Maine. Even national reports of the deaths of high-profile entertainers and retired athletes are usually draped in the same haze of privacy.
Most of us don’t need to know the names and street addresses of the victims but a few anonymous narratives that include some general information on how epidemiologists believe clusters began and propagated would help us understand our risks with just a glimmer of clarity.
Of course the epidemiologists may not have the answers we are seeking because they too are struggling to untangle connections hampered by concerns of privacy. There is no question that privacy must remain an important part of the physician-patient relationship. But a pandemic has thrown us into a situation where common sense demands that HIPAA be interpreted with an emphasis on the greater good. Finding that balance between privacy and public knowledge will continue to be one of our greatest challenges.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Ignorance may be bliss for some. But as I sit here in my scenic social isolation on the Maine coast I find that, like most people, what I don’t know unsettles me. How is the COVID-19 virus spread? Does my wife’s wipe down of the doorknobs after I return from the grocery store really make us any less likely to contract the virus? Is wearing my homemade bandana face mask doing anything to protect me? I suspect not, but I wear it as a statement of courtesy and solidarity to my fellow community members.
Does the 6-foot rule make any sense? I’ve read that it is based on a study dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen images of the 25-foot droplet plume blasting out from a sneeze and understand that, as a bicyclist, I may be generating a shower of droplets in my wake. But, are those droplets a threat to anyone I pedal by if I am symptom free? What does being a carrier mean when we are talking about COVID-19?
What makes me more vulnerable to this particular virus as an apparently healthy septuagenarian? What collection of misfortunes have fallen on those younger victims of the pandemic? How often was it genetic?
Of course, none of us has the information yet that can provide us answers. This vacuum has attracted scores of “experts” bold enough or careless enough to venture an opinion. They may have also issued a caveat, but how often have the media failed to include it in the report or buried it in the fine print at the end of the story?
My discomfort with this information void has left me and you and everyone else to our imaginations to craft our own explanations. So, I try to piece together a construct based on what I can glean from what I read and see in the news because like most people I fortunately have no first-hand information about even a single case. The number of deaths is horrifying, but may not have hit close to home and given most of us a real personal sense of the illness and its character.
Maine is a small state with just over a million inhabitants, and most of us have some connection to one another. It may be that a person is the second cousin of someone who used to live 2 miles down the road. But, there is some feeling of familiarity. We have had deaths related to COVID-19, but very scanty information other than the county about where they occurred and whether the victim was a resident of an extended care facility. We are told very little if any details about exposure as officials invoke HIPAA regulations that leave us in the dark. Other than one vague reference to a “traveling salesman” who may have introduced the virus to several nursing homes, there has been very little information about how the virus may have been spread here in Maine. Even national reports of the deaths of high-profile entertainers and retired athletes are usually draped in the same haze of privacy.
Most of us don’t need to know the names and street addresses of the victims but a few anonymous narratives that include some general information on how epidemiologists believe clusters began and propagated would help us understand our risks with just a glimmer of clarity.
Of course the epidemiologists may not have the answers we are seeking because they too are struggling to untangle connections hampered by concerns of privacy. There is no question that privacy must remain an important part of the physician-patient relationship. But a pandemic has thrown us into a situation where common sense demands that HIPAA be interpreted with an emphasis on the greater good. Finding that balance between privacy and public knowledge will continue to be one of our greatest challenges.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Ignorance may be bliss for some. But as I sit here in my scenic social isolation on the Maine coast I find that, like most people, what I don’t know unsettles me. How is the COVID-19 virus spread? Does my wife’s wipe down of the doorknobs after I return from the grocery store really make us any less likely to contract the virus? Is wearing my homemade bandana face mask doing anything to protect me? I suspect not, but I wear it as a statement of courtesy and solidarity to my fellow community members.
Does the 6-foot rule make any sense? I’ve read that it is based on a study dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen images of the 25-foot droplet plume blasting out from a sneeze and understand that, as a bicyclist, I may be generating a shower of droplets in my wake. But, are those droplets a threat to anyone I pedal by if I am symptom free? What does being a carrier mean when we are talking about COVID-19?
What makes me more vulnerable to this particular virus as an apparently healthy septuagenarian? What collection of misfortunes have fallen on those younger victims of the pandemic? How often was it genetic?
Of course, none of us has the information yet that can provide us answers. This vacuum has attracted scores of “experts” bold enough or careless enough to venture an opinion. They may have also issued a caveat, but how often have the media failed to include it in the report or buried it in the fine print at the end of the story?
My discomfort with this information void has left me and you and everyone else to our imaginations to craft our own explanations. So, I try to piece together a construct based on what I can glean from what I read and see in the news because like most people I fortunately have no first-hand information about even a single case. The number of deaths is horrifying, but may not have hit close to home and given most of us a real personal sense of the illness and its character.
Maine is a small state with just over a million inhabitants, and most of us have some connection to one another. It may be that a person is the second cousin of someone who used to live 2 miles down the road. But, there is some feeling of familiarity. We have had deaths related to COVID-19, but very scanty information other than the county about where they occurred and whether the victim was a resident of an extended care facility. We are told very little if any details about exposure as officials invoke HIPAA regulations that leave us in the dark. Other than one vague reference to a “traveling salesman” who may have introduced the virus to several nursing homes, there has been very little information about how the virus may have been spread here in Maine. Even national reports of the deaths of high-profile entertainers and retired athletes are usually draped in the same haze of privacy.
Most of us don’t need to know the names and street addresses of the victims but a few anonymous narratives that include some general information on how epidemiologists believe clusters began and propagated would help us understand our risks with just a glimmer of clarity.
Of course the epidemiologists may not have the answers we are seeking because they too are struggling to untangle connections hampered by concerns of privacy. There is no question that privacy must remain an important part of the physician-patient relationship. But a pandemic has thrown us into a situation where common sense demands that HIPAA be interpreted with an emphasis on the greater good. Finding that balance between privacy and public knowledge will continue to be one of our greatest challenges.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].