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Mothers, migraine, colic ... and sleep
In a recent article on this website, Jake Remaly reports on a study suggesting that maternal migraine is associated with infant colic. In a presentation at the annual meeting of the American Headache Society, Amy Gelfand, MD, a neurologist at the University of California, San Francisco, reported the results of a national survey of more than 1,400 parents (827 mothers, 592 fathers) collected via social media. She and her colleagues found that mothers with migraine were more likely to have an infant with colic, with an odds ratio of 1.7 that increased to 2.5 for mothers with more frequent migraine. Fathers with migraine were no more likely to have an infant with colic.
In a video clip included in the article, Dr. Gelfand discusses the possibilities that she and her group considered as they attempted to explain the study’s findings. Are there such things as “migraine genes?” If so, the failure to discover a paternal association might suggest that these would be mitochondrial genes. The researchers wondered if a substance in breast milk was acting as trigger, but they found that the association between colic and migraine was unrelated to whether the baby was fed by breast or bottle.
In full disclosure, I was not one of the investigators. Neither my wife nor I have migraine, and although our children cried as infants, they wouldn’t have qualified as having colic. However, I spent more than 40 years immersed in more than 300,000 patient encounters and can claim membership in the International Brother/Sisterhood of Anecdotal Observers. And, as such will offer up my explanation for Dr. Gelfand’s findings.
It is clear to me that most, if not all, children with migraine have their headaches when they are sleep deprived. While my sample size is smaller, I believe the same association also is true for many of the adults I know who have migraine. At least in children, restorative sleep ends the migraine much as it does for an epileptic seizure.
Traditionally, colic has been thought to be somehow related to a gastrointestinal phenomenon by many extended family members and some physicians. However, in my experience, it is usually a symptom of sleep deprivation compounded by the failure of those around the children to realize the obvious and take appropriate action. Of course, some babies are reacting to sore tummies, but my guess is that most are having headaches. We may never know. Dr. Gelfand also shares my observation that colicky crying is more likely to occur “at the end of the day,” a time when we are tired and are less tolerant of overstimulation.
However, the presentation varies depending on the age of the patients. Remember, infants can’t talk. It already has been shown that adults with migraine often were more likely to have been colicky infants. (Dr. Gelfand mentions this as well.) These unfortunate individuals probably have inherited a vulnerability to sleep deprivation that manifests itself as a headache. I hope to live long enough to be around when someone discovers the wrinkle in the genome that creates this vulnerability.
So, why did the researchers fail to find an association between fathers and colic? The answer is simple. We fathers are beginning to take on a larger role in parenting of infants and like to complain about how difficult it is. However, it is mothers who still have the lioness’ share of the work. They lose the most sleep and are starting off parenthood with 9 months of less than optimal sleep followed by who knows how many hours of energy-sapping labor. It’s surprising they all don’t have migraines.
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 article on this website, Jake Remaly reports on a study suggesting that maternal migraine is associated with infant colic. In a presentation at the annual meeting of the American Headache Society, Amy Gelfand, MD, a neurologist at the University of California, San Francisco, reported the results of a national survey of more than 1,400 parents (827 mothers, 592 fathers) collected via social media. She and her colleagues found that mothers with migraine were more likely to have an infant with colic, with an odds ratio of 1.7 that increased to 2.5 for mothers with more frequent migraine. Fathers with migraine were no more likely to have an infant with colic.
In a video clip included in the article, Dr. Gelfand discusses the possibilities that she and her group considered as they attempted to explain the study’s findings. Are there such things as “migraine genes?” If so, the failure to discover a paternal association might suggest that these would be mitochondrial genes. The researchers wondered if a substance in breast milk was acting as trigger, but they found that the association between colic and migraine was unrelated to whether the baby was fed by breast or bottle.
In full disclosure, I was not one of the investigators. Neither my wife nor I have migraine, and although our children cried as infants, they wouldn’t have qualified as having colic. However, I spent more than 40 years immersed in more than 300,000 patient encounters and can claim membership in the International Brother/Sisterhood of Anecdotal Observers. And, as such will offer up my explanation for Dr. Gelfand’s findings.
It is clear to me that most, if not all, children with migraine have their headaches when they are sleep deprived. While my sample size is smaller, I believe the same association also is true for many of the adults I know who have migraine. At least in children, restorative sleep ends the migraine much as it does for an epileptic seizure.
Traditionally, colic has been thought to be somehow related to a gastrointestinal phenomenon by many extended family members and some physicians. However, in my experience, it is usually a symptom of sleep deprivation compounded by the failure of those around the children to realize the obvious and take appropriate action. Of course, some babies are reacting to sore tummies, but my guess is that most are having headaches. We may never know. Dr. Gelfand also shares my observation that colicky crying is more likely to occur “at the end of the day,” a time when we are tired and are less tolerant of overstimulation.
However, the presentation varies depending on the age of the patients. Remember, infants can’t talk. It already has been shown that adults with migraine often were more likely to have been colicky infants. (Dr. Gelfand mentions this as well.) These unfortunate individuals probably have inherited a vulnerability to sleep deprivation that manifests itself as a headache. I hope to live long enough to be around when someone discovers the wrinkle in the genome that creates this vulnerability.
So, why did the researchers fail to find an association between fathers and colic? The answer is simple. We fathers are beginning to take on a larger role in parenting of infants and like to complain about how difficult it is. However, it is mothers who still have the lioness’ share of the work. They lose the most sleep and are starting off parenthood with 9 months of less than optimal sleep followed by who knows how many hours of energy-sapping labor. It’s surprising they all don’t have migraines.
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 article on this website, Jake Remaly reports on a study suggesting that maternal migraine is associated with infant colic. In a presentation at the annual meeting of the American Headache Society, Amy Gelfand, MD, a neurologist at the University of California, San Francisco, reported the results of a national survey of more than 1,400 parents (827 mothers, 592 fathers) collected via social media. She and her colleagues found that mothers with migraine were more likely to have an infant with colic, with an odds ratio of 1.7 that increased to 2.5 for mothers with more frequent migraine. Fathers with migraine were no more likely to have an infant with colic.
In a video clip included in the article, Dr. Gelfand discusses the possibilities that she and her group considered as they attempted to explain the study’s findings. Are there such things as “migraine genes?” If so, the failure to discover a paternal association might suggest that these would be mitochondrial genes. The researchers wondered if a substance in breast milk was acting as trigger, but they found that the association between colic and migraine was unrelated to whether the baby was fed by breast or bottle.
In full disclosure, I was not one of the investigators. Neither my wife nor I have migraine, and although our children cried as infants, they wouldn’t have qualified as having colic. However, I spent more than 40 years immersed in more than 300,000 patient encounters and can claim membership in the International Brother/Sisterhood of Anecdotal Observers. And, as such will offer up my explanation for Dr. Gelfand’s findings.
It is clear to me that most, if not all, children with migraine have their headaches when they are sleep deprived. While my sample size is smaller, I believe the same association also is true for many of the adults I know who have migraine. At least in children, restorative sleep ends the migraine much as it does for an epileptic seizure.
Traditionally, colic has been thought to be somehow related to a gastrointestinal phenomenon by many extended family members and some physicians. However, in my experience, it is usually a symptom of sleep deprivation compounded by the failure of those around the children to realize the obvious and take appropriate action. Of course, some babies are reacting to sore tummies, but my guess is that most are having headaches. We may never know. Dr. Gelfand also shares my observation that colicky crying is more likely to occur “at the end of the day,” a time when we are tired and are less tolerant of overstimulation.
However, the presentation varies depending on the age of the patients. Remember, infants can’t talk. It already has been shown that adults with migraine often were more likely to have been colicky infants. (Dr. Gelfand mentions this as well.) These unfortunate individuals probably have inherited a vulnerability to sleep deprivation that manifests itself as a headache. I hope to live long enough to be around when someone discovers the wrinkle in the genome that creates this vulnerability.
So, why did the researchers fail to find an association between fathers and colic? The answer is simple. We fathers are beginning to take on a larger role in parenting of infants and like to complain about how difficult it is. However, it is mothers who still have the lioness’ share of the work. They lose the most sleep and are starting off parenthood with 9 months of less than optimal sleep followed by who knows how many hours of energy-sapping labor. It’s surprising they all don’t have migraines.
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].
Y 2 the ED? (Why patients go to the emergency department)
Along with terminal care and inflated drug prices, the excessive number of “inappropriate” ED visits often is cited as a major driver of health care costs in the United States. Why do so many patients choose to go to the ED for complaints that might be better or more economically treated in another setting?
A report by two researchers in the division of emergency medicine at the Boston Children’s Hospital that appeared in the June 2019 Pediatrics suggests that, at least for pediatric patients, “increased insurance coverage neither drove nor counteracted” the recent trends in ED visits. (“Trends in Pediatric Emergency Department Use After the Affordable Care Act,” Pediatrics. 2019 Jun 1. doi: 10.1542/peds.2018-3542).
I guess it’s not surprising – and somewhat comforting – to learn that, when parents believe their child has an emergent condition they give little thought to the cost of care. Is the trend of increasing ED use a result of an evolving definition of an “emergency”? Your grandparents, or certainly your great grandparents, might claim that, when they were young most minor injuries were handled at home, or at least in the neighborhood by someone with first aid experience who wasn’t put off by the sight of blood. However, a trend away from self-reliance in everything from food preparation to auto repair, combined with media overexposure to the serious complications of apparently minor illness and injury, has left most parents feeling fearful and helpless in the face of adversity.
We have to accept as a given that many parents are going to interpret their child’s situation as emergent, even though you and I might not. But what are the factors that prompt a concerned parent to take his child to the ED instead of a physician’s office? It may simply be the path of least resistance. The parent’s past experience may include frustrating and time-consuming attempts to navigate a clunky phone system only to be met by a receptionist or triage nurse who seems more committed to deflecting calls and protecting the physician’s schedule than getting the patient seen.
The call may miraculously get through to someone with a caring voice and the patience to listen, but the parent then learns that the office doesn’t do minor wound care or he is told that the physician almost certainly will want to do an x-ray of any injured extremity and that the ED is a better choice. It doesn’t take very many scenarios like this to prompt a parent to make his first and only call to the ED. To some extent, physician behavior has helped mold parents’ definition of an emergency.
We are encouraged to make our offices a “medical home.” However, it appears the medical home model is one that is built around chronic conditions and behavioral problems and gives little attention to the acute complaints. When you came running into the house with a skinned knee, did your mother tell to you go across the street to the neighbor’s house because blood made her squeamish and she didn’t have any bandages?
There are ways to structure an office and a schedule which are more welcoming to patients with minor emergencies, and I know it is a difficult sell to physicians who are handcuffed by their EHRs and already overwhelmed by patients with time-consuming behavioral complaints. However, if your practice is facing competition from pop-up urgent care centers or if you are increasingly troubled that your patients are receiving fragmented care, it may not be too late to make your practice into a true medical home that welcomes minor emergencies.
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].
Along with terminal care and inflated drug prices, the excessive number of “inappropriate” ED visits often is cited as a major driver of health care costs in the United States. Why do so many patients choose to go to the ED for complaints that might be better or more economically treated in another setting?
A report by two researchers in the division of emergency medicine at the Boston Children’s Hospital that appeared in the June 2019 Pediatrics suggests that, at least for pediatric patients, “increased insurance coverage neither drove nor counteracted” the recent trends in ED visits. (“Trends in Pediatric Emergency Department Use After the Affordable Care Act,” Pediatrics. 2019 Jun 1. doi: 10.1542/peds.2018-3542).
I guess it’s not surprising – and somewhat comforting – to learn that, when parents believe their child has an emergent condition they give little thought to the cost of care. Is the trend of increasing ED use a result of an evolving definition of an “emergency”? Your grandparents, or certainly your great grandparents, might claim that, when they were young most minor injuries were handled at home, or at least in the neighborhood by someone with first aid experience who wasn’t put off by the sight of blood. However, a trend away from self-reliance in everything from food preparation to auto repair, combined with media overexposure to the serious complications of apparently minor illness and injury, has left most parents feeling fearful and helpless in the face of adversity.
We have to accept as a given that many parents are going to interpret their child’s situation as emergent, even though you and I might not. But what are the factors that prompt a concerned parent to take his child to the ED instead of a physician’s office? It may simply be the path of least resistance. The parent’s past experience may include frustrating and time-consuming attempts to navigate a clunky phone system only to be met by a receptionist or triage nurse who seems more committed to deflecting calls and protecting the physician’s schedule than getting the patient seen.
The call may miraculously get through to someone with a caring voice and the patience to listen, but the parent then learns that the office doesn’t do minor wound care or he is told that the physician almost certainly will want to do an x-ray of any injured extremity and that the ED is a better choice. It doesn’t take very many scenarios like this to prompt a parent to make his first and only call to the ED. To some extent, physician behavior has helped mold parents’ definition of an emergency.
We are encouraged to make our offices a “medical home.” However, it appears the medical home model is one that is built around chronic conditions and behavioral problems and gives little attention to the acute complaints. When you came running into the house with a skinned knee, did your mother tell to you go across the street to the neighbor’s house because blood made her squeamish and she didn’t have any bandages?
There are ways to structure an office and a schedule which are more welcoming to patients with minor emergencies, and I know it is a difficult sell to physicians who are handcuffed by their EHRs and already overwhelmed by patients with time-consuming behavioral complaints. However, if your practice is facing competition from pop-up urgent care centers or if you are increasingly troubled that your patients are receiving fragmented care, it may not be too late to make your practice into a true medical home that welcomes minor emergencies.
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].
Along with terminal care and inflated drug prices, the excessive number of “inappropriate” ED visits often is cited as a major driver of health care costs in the United States. Why do so many patients choose to go to the ED for complaints that might be better or more economically treated in another setting?
A report by two researchers in the division of emergency medicine at the Boston Children’s Hospital that appeared in the June 2019 Pediatrics suggests that, at least for pediatric patients, “increased insurance coverage neither drove nor counteracted” the recent trends in ED visits. (“Trends in Pediatric Emergency Department Use After the Affordable Care Act,” Pediatrics. 2019 Jun 1. doi: 10.1542/peds.2018-3542).
I guess it’s not surprising – and somewhat comforting – to learn that, when parents believe their child has an emergent condition they give little thought to the cost of care. Is the trend of increasing ED use a result of an evolving definition of an “emergency”? Your grandparents, or certainly your great grandparents, might claim that, when they were young most minor injuries were handled at home, or at least in the neighborhood by someone with first aid experience who wasn’t put off by the sight of blood. However, a trend away from self-reliance in everything from food preparation to auto repair, combined with media overexposure to the serious complications of apparently minor illness and injury, has left most parents feeling fearful and helpless in the face of adversity.
We have to accept as a given that many parents are going to interpret their child’s situation as emergent, even though you and I might not. But what are the factors that prompt a concerned parent to take his child to the ED instead of a physician’s office? It may simply be the path of least resistance. The parent’s past experience may include frustrating and time-consuming attempts to navigate a clunky phone system only to be met by a receptionist or triage nurse who seems more committed to deflecting calls and protecting the physician’s schedule than getting the patient seen.
The call may miraculously get through to someone with a caring voice and the patience to listen, but the parent then learns that the office doesn’t do minor wound care or he is told that the physician almost certainly will want to do an x-ray of any injured extremity and that the ED is a better choice. It doesn’t take very many scenarios like this to prompt a parent to make his first and only call to the ED. To some extent, physician behavior has helped mold parents’ definition of an emergency.
We are encouraged to make our offices a “medical home.” However, it appears the medical home model is one that is built around chronic conditions and behavioral problems and gives little attention to the acute complaints. When you came running into the house with a skinned knee, did your mother tell to you go across the street to the neighbor’s house because blood made her squeamish and she didn’t have any bandages?
There are ways to structure an office and a schedule which are more welcoming to patients with minor emergencies, and I know it is a difficult sell to physicians who are handcuffed by their EHRs and already overwhelmed by patients with time-consuming behavioral complaints. However, if your practice is facing competition from pop-up urgent care centers or if you are increasingly troubled that your patients are receiving fragmented care, it may not be too late to make your practice into a true medical home that welcomes minor emergencies.
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 answer is early follow-up
Rachel Pearson – writing in an article on the vulnerable child syndrome in The New Yorker – claims that “scheduling an early follow-up is as important as doing a detailed exam and having a broad differential diagnosis” (“The Durable Feeling That a Child is Always at Risk,” June 10, 2019) At first blush that may sound like a rather radical observation. How many medical school instructors and house office mentors would begin a teaching session by telling their trainees that doing a complete exam and developing an inclusive list of diagnoses really wasn’t all that important?
But I completely agree with Dr. Pearson’s observation. An early follow-up is the answer when you don’t have clue what is causing the patient’s symptoms. Or you have too many clues, but don’t have the time to sort them out. Or you have a solid diagnosis, but you don’t have the time to adequately explain it to the patient. Or maybe you have the time, but you sense that the patient is uncomfortable with your opinion. Early follow-up also is the answer when the patient’s illness is one that can worsen before it begins to improve. You may have warned the patient of this phenomenon, but scheduling an early follow-up visit can allay their concerns.
Scheduling an early follow-up may allow you to sleep better when you are concerned about the patient’s condition. Particularly in the situation in which the patient isn’t quite sick enough to warrant the risks and expense of a hospitalization. If you and your office staff feel as though you are drowning in phone calls, a liberal use of timely follow-ups can dramatically reduce your phone interruptions. Particularly if you have earned a reputation of keeping your promises. If you are worried about being sued for malpractice, early follow-ups are far better protection than shotgun ordering of lab and imaging studies. And if you are the new guy or gal in town, early follow-ups are one of the most potent practice builders I know.
Does an early follow-up have to be an office visit? It depends on the situation. Most patients quickly realize when your scheduled follow-up visits aren’t necessary. You and your staff should be sensitive to the inconvenience and expense that an office visit may create. Would a phone call be just as effective? This is a particularly knotty question when it comes to newborns. On one hand, office visits can be very disruptive to sleep and nursing schedules of sleep-deprived parents. However, I have seen too many situations in which a physician’s office has relied too heavily on the observations of inexperienced parents when an eyeball in the office or by a visiting nurse would have headed off disaster.
And who should make the call? Never underestimate the power of your voice, even if it’s just a message on an answering machine or smartphone. It leaves an impression. “You know my doctor calls me to check to see how I am?” I think whenever possible, the provider should make the first call. If you fail to connect, your staff can make subsequent attempts.
Finally, you may ask what is an “early” follow-up? The better descriptor would be “timely.” You won’t find this answer in a text book. This is another case in which art trumps medicine in the practice of medicine. The “when” of a timely follow-up depends on the patient’s illness, what is its usual course from your experience. How anxious is the patient? How anxious are you? The answer is that scheduling the follow-up should err on the early side. Another can always be scheduled if the situation is still fluid. At worst, it will demonstrate you are a caring physician.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Rachel Pearson – writing in an article on the vulnerable child syndrome in The New Yorker – claims that “scheduling an early follow-up is as important as doing a detailed exam and having a broad differential diagnosis” (“The Durable Feeling That a Child is Always at Risk,” June 10, 2019) At first blush that may sound like a rather radical observation. How many medical school instructors and house office mentors would begin a teaching session by telling their trainees that doing a complete exam and developing an inclusive list of diagnoses really wasn’t all that important?
But I completely agree with Dr. Pearson’s observation. An early follow-up is the answer when you don’t have clue what is causing the patient’s symptoms. Or you have too many clues, but don’t have the time to sort them out. Or you have a solid diagnosis, but you don’t have the time to adequately explain it to the patient. Or maybe you have the time, but you sense that the patient is uncomfortable with your opinion. Early follow-up also is the answer when the patient’s illness is one that can worsen before it begins to improve. You may have warned the patient of this phenomenon, but scheduling an early follow-up visit can allay their concerns.
Scheduling an early follow-up may allow you to sleep better when you are concerned about the patient’s condition. Particularly in the situation in which the patient isn’t quite sick enough to warrant the risks and expense of a hospitalization. If you and your office staff feel as though you are drowning in phone calls, a liberal use of timely follow-ups can dramatically reduce your phone interruptions. Particularly if you have earned a reputation of keeping your promises. If you are worried about being sued for malpractice, early follow-ups are far better protection than shotgun ordering of lab and imaging studies. And if you are the new guy or gal in town, early follow-ups are one of the most potent practice builders I know.
Does an early follow-up have to be an office visit? It depends on the situation. Most patients quickly realize when your scheduled follow-up visits aren’t necessary. You and your staff should be sensitive to the inconvenience and expense that an office visit may create. Would a phone call be just as effective? This is a particularly knotty question when it comes to newborns. On one hand, office visits can be very disruptive to sleep and nursing schedules of sleep-deprived parents. However, I have seen too many situations in which a physician’s office has relied too heavily on the observations of inexperienced parents when an eyeball in the office or by a visiting nurse would have headed off disaster.
And who should make the call? Never underestimate the power of your voice, even if it’s just a message on an answering machine or smartphone. It leaves an impression. “You know my doctor calls me to check to see how I am?” I think whenever possible, the provider should make the first call. If you fail to connect, your staff can make subsequent attempts.
Finally, you may ask what is an “early” follow-up? The better descriptor would be “timely.” You won’t find this answer in a text book. This is another case in which art trumps medicine in the practice of medicine. The “when” of a timely follow-up depends on the patient’s illness, what is its usual course from your experience. How anxious is the patient? How anxious are you? The answer is that scheduling the follow-up should err on the early side. Another can always be scheduled if the situation is still fluid. At worst, it will demonstrate you are a caring physician.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Rachel Pearson – writing in an article on the vulnerable child syndrome in The New Yorker – claims that “scheduling an early follow-up is as important as doing a detailed exam and having a broad differential diagnosis” (“The Durable Feeling That a Child is Always at Risk,” June 10, 2019) At first blush that may sound like a rather radical observation. How many medical school instructors and house office mentors would begin a teaching session by telling their trainees that doing a complete exam and developing an inclusive list of diagnoses really wasn’t all that important?
But I completely agree with Dr. Pearson’s observation. An early follow-up is the answer when you don’t have clue what is causing the patient’s symptoms. Or you have too many clues, but don’t have the time to sort them out. Or you have a solid diagnosis, but you don’t have the time to adequately explain it to the patient. Or maybe you have the time, but you sense that the patient is uncomfortable with your opinion. Early follow-up also is the answer when the patient’s illness is one that can worsen before it begins to improve. You may have warned the patient of this phenomenon, but scheduling an early follow-up visit can allay their concerns.
Scheduling an early follow-up may allow you to sleep better when you are concerned about the patient’s condition. Particularly in the situation in which the patient isn’t quite sick enough to warrant the risks and expense of a hospitalization. If you and your office staff feel as though you are drowning in phone calls, a liberal use of timely follow-ups can dramatically reduce your phone interruptions. Particularly if you have earned a reputation of keeping your promises. If you are worried about being sued for malpractice, early follow-ups are far better protection than shotgun ordering of lab and imaging studies. And if you are the new guy or gal in town, early follow-ups are one of the most potent practice builders I know.
Does an early follow-up have to be an office visit? It depends on the situation. Most patients quickly realize when your scheduled follow-up visits aren’t necessary. You and your staff should be sensitive to the inconvenience and expense that an office visit may create. Would a phone call be just as effective? This is a particularly knotty question when it comes to newborns. On one hand, office visits can be very disruptive to sleep and nursing schedules of sleep-deprived parents. However, I have seen too many situations in which a physician’s office has relied too heavily on the observations of inexperienced parents when an eyeball in the office or by a visiting nurse would have headed off disaster.
And who should make the call? Never underestimate the power of your voice, even if it’s just a message on an answering machine or smartphone. It leaves an impression. “You know my doctor calls me to check to see how I am?” I think whenever possible, the provider should make the first call. If you fail to connect, your staff can make subsequent attempts.
Finally, you may ask what is an “early” follow-up? The better descriptor would be “timely.” You won’t find this answer in a text book. This is another case in which art trumps medicine in the practice of medicine. The “when” of a timely follow-up depends on the patient’s illness, what is its usual course from your experience. How anxious is the patient? How anxious are you? The answer is that scheduling the follow-up should err on the early side. Another can always be scheduled if the situation is still fluid. At worst, it will demonstrate you are a caring physician.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
The urge to move
When you have a few spare minutes on your lunch break, walk by the grade school playground in your neighborhood. Even at a quick glance you will notice that almost all the children are in motion – running, chasing, or being chased. Don’t linger too long or make repeat visits because unfortunately your presence may raise suspicions about your motives. But, even on your brief visit, you will also notice that there are a few children who are sitting down either chatting with a classmate or playing by themselves. If despite my caution you returned several days in a row, you would have noticed that the sedentary outliers tend to be the same children.
Some of the children playing alone simply may be shy loners or socially inept. But I’ve always suspected that there are some people who come in the world genetically predisposed to being sedentary. You can try to make the environment more enticing and stimulating, but the children predestined to be inactive will choose to sit and watch. Not surprisingly, most of those less active children are predestined to be overweight and obese.
At least as young children we seem to be driven to be active, and it is the few outliers who are sedentary. A recent investigation from the department of health and kinesiology at Texas A&M University at College Station is beginning to shed some light on when in our evolutionary history the urge to be active was incorporated into our genome (PLOS ONE. 2019 Apr 29. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0216155). The researchers found that snippets of DNA already known to be associated with levels of activity emerged in our ancestors before we were Homo sapiens about 500,000 years ago. This finding surprised the investigators who had suspected that this incorporation of a gene sequence driving activity was more likely to have occurred ten thousand years ago when subsistence farming and its physical demands first appeared.
The authors now postulate that the drive to be active coincided as pre–Homo sapiens grew larger and moved from a treed landscape into the open savanna (“To Move Is to Thrive. It’s in Our Genes” by Gretchen Reynolds. The New York Times, May 15, 2019). As J. Timothy Lightfoot, the senior investigator, observed, “If you were lazy then, you did not survive.”
Our observation of a playground in contact motion is probably evidence that those snippets of DNA still are buried in our genome. However, it is abundantly clear that in North America one doesn’t need to be active to survive, at least in the sense of being reproductively fit. It only takes a few us who must be physically active to grow and build things that we in the sedentary majority can buy or trade for.
There are some of us who have inherited some DNA snippets that drive us to be active post early childhood. My father walked two or three times a day until a few months before his death at 92, and not because someone told him it do it for his health. Like him, I just feel better if I have spent a couple of hours being active every day.
The challenge for us as pediatricians is to help families create environments that foster continued activity by discouraging sedentary entertainments and modeling active lifestyles. For example, simple things like choosing a spot at the periphery of the parking lot instead of close to the store. Choosing stairs instead of the elevator. Of course, anything you will be doing is artificial because the truth is we don’t need to be active to survive even though the urge to move is deeply rooted in our genes.
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 have a few spare minutes on your lunch break, walk by the grade school playground in your neighborhood. Even at a quick glance you will notice that almost all the children are in motion – running, chasing, or being chased. Don’t linger too long or make repeat visits because unfortunately your presence may raise suspicions about your motives. But, even on your brief visit, you will also notice that there are a few children who are sitting down either chatting with a classmate or playing by themselves. If despite my caution you returned several days in a row, you would have noticed that the sedentary outliers tend to be the same children.
Some of the children playing alone simply may be shy loners or socially inept. But I’ve always suspected that there are some people who come in the world genetically predisposed to being sedentary. You can try to make the environment more enticing and stimulating, but the children predestined to be inactive will choose to sit and watch. Not surprisingly, most of those less active children are predestined to be overweight and obese.
At least as young children we seem to be driven to be active, and it is the few outliers who are sedentary. A recent investigation from the department of health and kinesiology at Texas A&M University at College Station is beginning to shed some light on when in our evolutionary history the urge to be active was incorporated into our genome (PLOS ONE. 2019 Apr 29. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0216155). The researchers found that snippets of DNA already known to be associated with levels of activity emerged in our ancestors before we were Homo sapiens about 500,000 years ago. This finding surprised the investigators who had suspected that this incorporation of a gene sequence driving activity was more likely to have occurred ten thousand years ago when subsistence farming and its physical demands first appeared.
The authors now postulate that the drive to be active coincided as pre–Homo sapiens grew larger and moved from a treed landscape into the open savanna (“To Move Is to Thrive. It’s in Our Genes” by Gretchen Reynolds. The New York Times, May 15, 2019). As J. Timothy Lightfoot, the senior investigator, observed, “If you were lazy then, you did not survive.”
Our observation of a playground in contact motion is probably evidence that those snippets of DNA still are buried in our genome. However, it is abundantly clear that in North America one doesn’t need to be active to survive, at least in the sense of being reproductively fit. It only takes a few us who must be physically active to grow and build things that we in the sedentary majority can buy or trade for.
There are some of us who have inherited some DNA snippets that drive us to be active post early childhood. My father walked two or three times a day until a few months before his death at 92, and not because someone told him it do it for his health. Like him, I just feel better if I have spent a couple of hours being active every day.
The challenge for us as pediatricians is to help families create environments that foster continued activity by discouraging sedentary entertainments and modeling active lifestyles. For example, simple things like choosing a spot at the periphery of the parking lot instead of close to the store. Choosing stairs instead of the elevator. Of course, anything you will be doing is artificial because the truth is we don’t need to be active to survive even though the urge to move is deeply rooted in our genes.
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 have a few spare minutes on your lunch break, walk by the grade school playground in your neighborhood. Even at a quick glance you will notice that almost all the children are in motion – running, chasing, or being chased. Don’t linger too long or make repeat visits because unfortunately your presence may raise suspicions about your motives. But, even on your brief visit, you will also notice that there are a few children who are sitting down either chatting with a classmate or playing by themselves. If despite my caution you returned several days in a row, you would have noticed that the sedentary outliers tend to be the same children.
Some of the children playing alone simply may be shy loners or socially inept. But I’ve always suspected that there are some people who come in the world genetically predisposed to being sedentary. You can try to make the environment more enticing and stimulating, but the children predestined to be inactive will choose to sit and watch. Not surprisingly, most of those less active children are predestined to be overweight and obese.
At least as young children we seem to be driven to be active, and it is the few outliers who are sedentary. A recent investigation from the department of health and kinesiology at Texas A&M University at College Station is beginning to shed some light on when in our evolutionary history the urge to be active was incorporated into our genome (PLOS ONE. 2019 Apr 29. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0216155). The researchers found that snippets of DNA already known to be associated with levels of activity emerged in our ancestors before we were Homo sapiens about 500,000 years ago. This finding surprised the investigators who had suspected that this incorporation of a gene sequence driving activity was more likely to have occurred ten thousand years ago when subsistence farming and its physical demands first appeared.
The authors now postulate that the drive to be active coincided as pre–Homo sapiens grew larger and moved from a treed landscape into the open savanna (“To Move Is to Thrive. It’s in Our Genes” by Gretchen Reynolds. The New York Times, May 15, 2019). As J. Timothy Lightfoot, the senior investigator, observed, “If you were lazy then, you did not survive.”
Our observation of a playground in contact motion is probably evidence that those snippets of DNA still are buried in our genome. However, it is abundantly clear that in North America one doesn’t need to be active to survive, at least in the sense of being reproductively fit. It only takes a few us who must be physically active to grow and build things that we in the sedentary majority can buy or trade for.
There are some of us who have inherited some DNA snippets that drive us to be active post early childhood. My father walked two or three times a day until a few months before his death at 92, and not because someone told him it do it for his health. Like him, I just feel better if I have spent a couple of hours being active every day.
The challenge for us as pediatricians is to help families create environments that foster continued activity by discouraging sedentary entertainments and modeling active lifestyles. For example, simple things like choosing a spot at the periphery of the parking lot instead of close to the store. Choosing stairs instead of the elevator. Of course, anything you will be doing is artificial because the truth is we don’t need to be active to survive even though the urge to move is deeply rooted in our genes.
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 longing for belonging
As I watched my grandson and his team warm up for their Saturday morning lacrosse game, a long parade of mostly purple-shirted adults and children of all ages began to weave its way around the periphery of the athletic field complex. A quick reading of the hand-lettered and machine-printed shirts made it clear that I was watching a charity walk for cystic fibrosis. There must have been several hundred walkers strolling by, laughing and chatting with one another. It lent a festive atmosphere to the park. I suspect that for most of the participants this was not their first fundraising event for cystic fibrosis.
The motley mix of marchers probably included several handfuls of parents of children with cystic fibrosis. I wonder how many of those parents realized how fortunate they were. Cystic fibrosis isn’t a great diagnosis. But at least it is a diagnosis, and with the diagnosis comes a community.
Reading a front-page article on DNA testing in a recent Wall Street Journal issue had primed me to reconsider how even an unfortunate diagnosis can be extremely valuable for a family (“The Unfulfilled Promise of DNA Testing,” by Amy Dockser Marcus, May 18, 2019).The focus of the article was on the confusion and disappointment that are the predictable consequences of our current inability to accurately correlate genetic code “mistakes” with phenotypic abnormalities. Of course there have been a few successes, but we aren’t even close to the promise that many have predicted in the wake of sequencing the human genome. The family featured in the article has a ridden roller coaster ride through two failed attributions of genetic syndromes that appeared to provide their now 8-year-old daughter with a diagnosis for her epilepsy and developmental delay.
In each case, the mother had searched out other families with children who shared the same genetic code errors. She formed support groups and created foundations to promote research for these rare disorders only to learn that her daughter didn’t really fit into the phenotype exhibited by the other children. As the article indicates this mother had “found a genetic home, only to feel that she no longer belonged.” She had made “intense friendships” and for “2 years, the community was her main emotional support.” Since the second diagnosis has evaporated, she has struggled with whether to remain with that community, having already left one behind. She has been encouraged to stay involved by another mother whose son does have the diagnosis. Understandably, she is still seeking the correct diagnosis, and I suspect will form or join a new community when she finds it.
We all want to belong to a community. And with that ticket comes the opportunity to share the frustrations and difficulties unique to children with that diagnosis, and the comfort that there are other people who look, behave, and feel the way we do. We hear repeatedly about the value of diversity and how wonderful it is to be all inclusive. And certainly we should continue to be as accepting as we can of people who are different. But the truth is that we will always fall short because we seem to be hardwired to notice what is different. And the power of the longing to belong is often stronger than our will to be inclusive.
The revolution that resulted in the disappearance of the label “mental retardation” and the widespread adoption of the diagnosis of autism are examples of how a community can form around a diagnosis. But not every child who is labeled as autistic will actually fit the diagnosis. Yet even a less-than-perfect attribution can provide a place where a family and a patient can feel that they belong.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
As I watched my grandson and his team warm up for their Saturday morning lacrosse game, a long parade of mostly purple-shirted adults and children of all ages began to weave its way around the periphery of the athletic field complex. A quick reading of the hand-lettered and machine-printed shirts made it clear that I was watching a charity walk for cystic fibrosis. There must have been several hundred walkers strolling by, laughing and chatting with one another. It lent a festive atmosphere to the park. I suspect that for most of the participants this was not their first fundraising event for cystic fibrosis.
The motley mix of marchers probably included several handfuls of parents of children with cystic fibrosis. I wonder how many of those parents realized how fortunate they were. Cystic fibrosis isn’t a great diagnosis. But at least it is a diagnosis, and with the diagnosis comes a community.
Reading a front-page article on DNA testing in a recent Wall Street Journal issue had primed me to reconsider how even an unfortunate diagnosis can be extremely valuable for a family (“The Unfulfilled Promise of DNA Testing,” by Amy Dockser Marcus, May 18, 2019).The focus of the article was on the confusion and disappointment that are the predictable consequences of our current inability to accurately correlate genetic code “mistakes” with phenotypic abnormalities. Of course there have been a few successes, but we aren’t even close to the promise that many have predicted in the wake of sequencing the human genome. The family featured in the article has a ridden roller coaster ride through two failed attributions of genetic syndromes that appeared to provide their now 8-year-old daughter with a diagnosis for her epilepsy and developmental delay.
In each case, the mother had searched out other families with children who shared the same genetic code errors. She formed support groups and created foundations to promote research for these rare disorders only to learn that her daughter didn’t really fit into the phenotype exhibited by the other children. As the article indicates this mother had “found a genetic home, only to feel that she no longer belonged.” She had made “intense friendships” and for “2 years, the community was her main emotional support.” Since the second diagnosis has evaporated, she has struggled with whether to remain with that community, having already left one behind. She has been encouraged to stay involved by another mother whose son does have the diagnosis. Understandably, she is still seeking the correct diagnosis, and I suspect will form or join a new community when she finds it.
We all want to belong to a community. And with that ticket comes the opportunity to share the frustrations and difficulties unique to children with that diagnosis, and the comfort that there are other people who look, behave, and feel the way we do. We hear repeatedly about the value of diversity and how wonderful it is to be all inclusive. And certainly we should continue to be as accepting as we can of people who are different. But the truth is that we will always fall short because we seem to be hardwired to notice what is different. And the power of the longing to belong is often stronger than our will to be inclusive.
The revolution that resulted in the disappearance of the label “mental retardation” and the widespread adoption of the diagnosis of autism are examples of how a community can form around a diagnosis. But not every child who is labeled as autistic will actually fit the diagnosis. Yet even a less-than-perfect attribution can provide a place where a family and a patient can feel that they belong.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
As I watched my grandson and his team warm up for their Saturday morning lacrosse game, a long parade of mostly purple-shirted adults and children of all ages began to weave its way around the periphery of the athletic field complex. A quick reading of the hand-lettered and machine-printed shirts made it clear that I was watching a charity walk for cystic fibrosis. There must have been several hundred walkers strolling by, laughing and chatting with one another. It lent a festive atmosphere to the park. I suspect that for most of the participants this was not their first fundraising event for cystic fibrosis.
The motley mix of marchers probably included several handfuls of parents of children with cystic fibrosis. I wonder how many of those parents realized how fortunate they were. Cystic fibrosis isn’t a great diagnosis. But at least it is a diagnosis, and with the diagnosis comes a community.
Reading a front-page article on DNA testing in a recent Wall Street Journal issue had primed me to reconsider how even an unfortunate diagnosis can be extremely valuable for a family (“The Unfulfilled Promise of DNA Testing,” by Amy Dockser Marcus, May 18, 2019).The focus of the article was on the confusion and disappointment that are the predictable consequences of our current inability to accurately correlate genetic code “mistakes” with phenotypic abnormalities. Of course there have been a few successes, but we aren’t even close to the promise that many have predicted in the wake of sequencing the human genome. The family featured in the article has a ridden roller coaster ride through two failed attributions of genetic syndromes that appeared to provide their now 8-year-old daughter with a diagnosis for her epilepsy and developmental delay.
In each case, the mother had searched out other families with children who shared the same genetic code errors. She formed support groups and created foundations to promote research for these rare disorders only to learn that her daughter didn’t really fit into the phenotype exhibited by the other children. As the article indicates this mother had “found a genetic home, only to feel that she no longer belonged.” She had made “intense friendships” and for “2 years, the community was her main emotional support.” Since the second diagnosis has evaporated, she has struggled with whether to remain with that community, having already left one behind. She has been encouraged to stay involved by another mother whose son does have the diagnosis. Understandably, she is still seeking the correct diagnosis, and I suspect will form or join a new community when she finds it.
We all want to belong to a community. And with that ticket comes the opportunity to share the frustrations and difficulties unique to children with that diagnosis, and the comfort that there are other people who look, behave, and feel the way we do. We hear repeatedly about the value of diversity and how wonderful it is to be all inclusive. And certainly we should continue to be as accepting as we can of people who are different. But the truth is that we will always fall short because we seem to be hardwired to notice what is different. And the power of the longing to belong is often stronger than our will to be inclusive.
The revolution that resulted in the disappearance of the label “mental retardation” and the widespread adoption of the diagnosis of autism are examples of how a community can form around a diagnosis. But not every child who is labeled as autistic will actually fit the diagnosis. Yet even a less-than-perfect attribution can provide a place where a family and a patient can feel that they belong.
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].
Connected care
I previously shared my concerns about the compromises some physicians are making when they consent to practicing in a telemedicine arrangement in which the system’s technical limitations prevents them from obtaining information critical to making an accurate diagnosis. In the scenarios that I described, a physician would have great difficulty being a good steward of antibiotic usage if he were willing to make a diagnosis of otitis media or strep throat without access to tympanic membrane visualization or the results of a rapid strep test.
In response to my observation, I received an email from Dr. Kenneth McConnochie, a name out of my deep past from when we were teammates in college. Now a professor of pediatrics at University of Rochester (N.Y.) Medical Center, Dr. McConnochie has studied telemedicine in primary care extensively. He has thought a lot about telemedicine and more specifically about how it relates to quality. As he pointed out to me,
I suspect that like me, whenever you look at an article or study that has “telemedicine” in its title or headline, you are never sure what you’re going to be reading about. Is it going to be a discussion of telephone triaging in a suburban primary practice or will the article describe how a pediatric cardiologist in Anchorage can follow his little patients in the Aleutians via an audio/video hookup that provides him with the ability to auscultate and review electrocardiograms and radiographic images? Dr. McConnochie suggests that by using the broader term “connected care” for care that is delivered at a distance, and by clearly specifying different types or levels, we will be one big step closer to a more meaningful way to understand the usefulness of that care.
In the conceptual framework he proposes, level 1 is text-only care because it offers the physician the least capacity for the acquisition of (1) diagnostically relevant information and (2) interpersonal connection. Phone care can provide more and videoconferencing still more. Level 4 would be what Dr. McConnochie labels “information rich” care providing the most abundant capacity. Here, think of an arrangement in which someone at the patient’s end of the connection has been trained to use an electronic otoscope that can capture an image of the child’s tympanic membrane, an electronic stethoscope that can record heart and breath sounds, and a high resolution camera to capture images of the patient’s skin, throat, and eyes, then transmit them to the child’s electronic health record (EHR) in real time. Someone in the school or day care center where the child spends his day has been taught how to obtain and process a rapid strep test. The physician who has instant access to the child’s EHR can communicate “face to face” via teleconferencing with the day care providers and with the parent who is at work to discuss the diagnosis, treatment plan, and follow-up. If any of the parties feels the exchange of information is insufficiently robust, a traditional office visit can be arranged.
The challenge of assigning value to each level care still remains. Is the level 4 scenario I just described as valuable as a face to face traditional office visit? In some situations, it is likely to be more valuable than a visit with a physician in an urgent care clinic or emergency department who has never seen the patient and/or lacks access to the EHR because her computer doesn’t interface with the primary care physician’s EHR. It certainly may be more convenient for the family.
But who is going to assign value? A connected visit may be more efficient for the patient and the parent, but will it be more costly? And who is going to pay? Dr. McConnochie’s observations should be taken seriously by those folks who assign value and pay.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
I previously shared my concerns about the compromises some physicians are making when they consent to practicing in a telemedicine arrangement in which the system’s technical limitations prevents them from obtaining information critical to making an accurate diagnosis. In the scenarios that I described, a physician would have great difficulty being a good steward of antibiotic usage if he were willing to make a diagnosis of otitis media or strep throat without access to tympanic membrane visualization or the results of a rapid strep test.
In response to my observation, I received an email from Dr. Kenneth McConnochie, a name out of my deep past from when we were teammates in college. Now a professor of pediatrics at University of Rochester (N.Y.) Medical Center, Dr. McConnochie has studied telemedicine in primary care extensively. He has thought a lot about telemedicine and more specifically about how it relates to quality. As he pointed out to me,
I suspect that like me, whenever you look at an article or study that has “telemedicine” in its title or headline, you are never sure what you’re going to be reading about. Is it going to be a discussion of telephone triaging in a suburban primary practice or will the article describe how a pediatric cardiologist in Anchorage can follow his little patients in the Aleutians via an audio/video hookup that provides him with the ability to auscultate and review electrocardiograms and radiographic images? Dr. McConnochie suggests that by using the broader term “connected care” for care that is delivered at a distance, and by clearly specifying different types or levels, we will be one big step closer to a more meaningful way to understand the usefulness of that care.
In the conceptual framework he proposes, level 1 is text-only care because it offers the physician the least capacity for the acquisition of (1) diagnostically relevant information and (2) interpersonal connection. Phone care can provide more and videoconferencing still more. Level 4 would be what Dr. McConnochie labels “information rich” care providing the most abundant capacity. Here, think of an arrangement in which someone at the patient’s end of the connection has been trained to use an electronic otoscope that can capture an image of the child’s tympanic membrane, an electronic stethoscope that can record heart and breath sounds, and a high resolution camera to capture images of the patient’s skin, throat, and eyes, then transmit them to the child’s electronic health record (EHR) in real time. Someone in the school or day care center where the child spends his day has been taught how to obtain and process a rapid strep test. The physician who has instant access to the child’s EHR can communicate “face to face” via teleconferencing with the day care providers and with the parent who is at work to discuss the diagnosis, treatment plan, and follow-up. If any of the parties feels the exchange of information is insufficiently robust, a traditional office visit can be arranged.
The challenge of assigning value to each level care still remains. Is the level 4 scenario I just described as valuable as a face to face traditional office visit? In some situations, it is likely to be more valuable than a visit with a physician in an urgent care clinic or emergency department who has never seen the patient and/or lacks access to the EHR because her computer doesn’t interface with the primary care physician’s EHR. It certainly may be more convenient for the family.
But who is going to assign value? A connected visit may be more efficient for the patient and the parent, but will it be more costly? And who is going to pay? Dr. McConnochie’s observations should be taken seriously by those folks who assign value and pay.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
I previously shared my concerns about the compromises some physicians are making when they consent to practicing in a telemedicine arrangement in which the system’s technical limitations prevents them from obtaining information critical to making an accurate diagnosis. In the scenarios that I described, a physician would have great difficulty being a good steward of antibiotic usage if he were willing to make a diagnosis of otitis media or strep throat without access to tympanic membrane visualization or the results of a rapid strep test.
In response to my observation, I received an email from Dr. Kenneth McConnochie, a name out of my deep past from when we were teammates in college. Now a professor of pediatrics at University of Rochester (N.Y.) Medical Center, Dr. McConnochie has studied telemedicine in primary care extensively. He has thought a lot about telemedicine and more specifically about how it relates to quality. As he pointed out to me,
I suspect that like me, whenever you look at an article or study that has “telemedicine” in its title or headline, you are never sure what you’re going to be reading about. Is it going to be a discussion of telephone triaging in a suburban primary practice or will the article describe how a pediatric cardiologist in Anchorage can follow his little patients in the Aleutians via an audio/video hookup that provides him with the ability to auscultate and review electrocardiograms and radiographic images? Dr. McConnochie suggests that by using the broader term “connected care” for care that is delivered at a distance, and by clearly specifying different types or levels, we will be one big step closer to a more meaningful way to understand the usefulness of that care.
In the conceptual framework he proposes, level 1 is text-only care because it offers the physician the least capacity for the acquisition of (1) diagnostically relevant information and (2) interpersonal connection. Phone care can provide more and videoconferencing still more. Level 4 would be what Dr. McConnochie labels “information rich” care providing the most abundant capacity. Here, think of an arrangement in which someone at the patient’s end of the connection has been trained to use an electronic otoscope that can capture an image of the child’s tympanic membrane, an electronic stethoscope that can record heart and breath sounds, and a high resolution camera to capture images of the patient’s skin, throat, and eyes, then transmit them to the child’s electronic health record (EHR) in real time. Someone in the school or day care center where the child spends his day has been taught how to obtain and process a rapid strep test. The physician who has instant access to the child’s EHR can communicate “face to face” via teleconferencing with the day care providers and with the parent who is at work to discuss the diagnosis, treatment plan, and follow-up. If any of the parties feels the exchange of information is insufficiently robust, a traditional office visit can be arranged.
The challenge of assigning value to each level care still remains. Is the level 4 scenario I just described as valuable as a face to face traditional office visit? In some situations, it is likely to be more valuable than a visit with a physician in an urgent care clinic or emergency department who has never seen the patient and/or lacks access to the EHR because her computer doesn’t interface with the primary care physician’s EHR. It certainly may be more convenient for the family.
But who is going to assign value? A connected visit may be more efficient for the patient and the parent, but will it be more costly? And who is going to pay? Dr. McConnochie’s observations should be taken seriously by those folks who assign value and pay.
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].
Fear driven
I’m sometimes asked what was different about practicing pediatrics when I was at the apex of my clinical career. Colored by the recent memory of several painful adjustments to unworkable and time-gobbling electronic medical record systems, I usually answer, “It was more fun before the damn computer landed in my exam room.” However, an op-ed piece in the New York Times has prompted me to reconsider how the practice of medicine has changed over the last 50 years (“An Era Defined by Fear,” by David Brooks, April 29, 2019).
Mr. Brooks claims that the era in which we are living is defined by fear. He argues that beginning with the terrorist attacks of 9/11, fear has crept into every corner or our lives, influencing how we relate to one another and govern ourselves. Fueled by a media that feeds us “breaking news” at every hour of the day, we have become a country of people who see everything through the “dark filter” of fear.
I can recall monthly air raid drills during which my third-grade classmates and I scurried under our desks for what seemed hours. And I know my parents were concerned as polio swept through my hometown and the surrounding communities. But I don’t recall feeling the same omnipresent fear that I began to see over the last decade and a half of my practice.
Bombs never landed in Pleasantville, New York, and we knew our school was safe. Third graders today have been told that other third graders have been shot and killed in schools they thought were safe. I knew that there was a risk I might get my “bell rung” playing football. But neither my parents nor I worried that repeated concussions might hasten dementia. My parents and I knew that the weather was unpredictable, but we weren’t bombarded with warnings that the ocean might engulf our home or that the planet was dying.
I suspect my parents worried how I would find my way in the world, but not with the level of anxiety that I feel in parents today who are obsessed with their own fear of failure. And as David Brooks observes, “fear generates fear.” A fearful parent is likely to raise a fearful child. It’s not surprising that today’s pediatricians feel that their appointment lists are filled to the bursting point with patients who have mental health complaints, with anxiety and depression high on the list of diagnoses.
Foremost among our fears is the threat of malpractice litigation. We are coached in risk management strategies, and although we may not admit it, many of us are practicing defensive medicine, a scourge that appeared only infrequently in my first 2 decades of practice. While rumors always could tarnish a physician’s reputation in a small town, the damage done by Internet trolls wielding the power of social media can be several orders of magnitude more devastating.
Not surprisingly, physicians like to practice in comfortable surroundings, which of course draw other physicians, and in short order physicians can find themselves facing the fear of competition. Before insurance companies controlled the landscape, physicians didn’t have to worry about maintaining a stable panel of patients. Now a physician must worry that he or she may be delisted on the whim of a committee of number crunchers. Although I always was concerned on keeping current, my accreditation was grandfathered, and I didn’t have to worry about maintenance of certification (MOC) exams and deadlines. And of course I completed my education with what I considered at the time a whopping $3,200 of debt, but at an interest rate so low that we could make more money in CDs (certificates of deposit).
I wish I could end with something of more substance than Franklin Roosevelt’s advice that the only thing to fear is fear itself. But I’m afraid I can’t.
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’m sometimes asked what was different about practicing pediatrics when I was at the apex of my clinical career. Colored by the recent memory of several painful adjustments to unworkable and time-gobbling electronic medical record systems, I usually answer, “It was more fun before the damn computer landed in my exam room.” However, an op-ed piece in the New York Times has prompted me to reconsider how the practice of medicine has changed over the last 50 years (“An Era Defined by Fear,” by David Brooks, April 29, 2019).
Mr. Brooks claims that the era in which we are living is defined by fear. He argues that beginning with the terrorist attacks of 9/11, fear has crept into every corner or our lives, influencing how we relate to one another and govern ourselves. Fueled by a media that feeds us “breaking news” at every hour of the day, we have become a country of people who see everything through the “dark filter” of fear.
I can recall monthly air raid drills during which my third-grade classmates and I scurried under our desks for what seemed hours. And I know my parents were concerned as polio swept through my hometown and the surrounding communities. But I don’t recall feeling the same omnipresent fear that I began to see over the last decade and a half of my practice.
Bombs never landed in Pleasantville, New York, and we knew our school was safe. Third graders today have been told that other third graders have been shot and killed in schools they thought were safe. I knew that there was a risk I might get my “bell rung” playing football. But neither my parents nor I worried that repeated concussions might hasten dementia. My parents and I knew that the weather was unpredictable, but we weren’t bombarded with warnings that the ocean might engulf our home or that the planet was dying.
I suspect my parents worried how I would find my way in the world, but not with the level of anxiety that I feel in parents today who are obsessed with their own fear of failure. And as David Brooks observes, “fear generates fear.” A fearful parent is likely to raise a fearful child. It’s not surprising that today’s pediatricians feel that their appointment lists are filled to the bursting point with patients who have mental health complaints, with anxiety and depression high on the list of diagnoses.
Foremost among our fears is the threat of malpractice litigation. We are coached in risk management strategies, and although we may not admit it, many of us are practicing defensive medicine, a scourge that appeared only infrequently in my first 2 decades of practice. While rumors always could tarnish a physician’s reputation in a small town, the damage done by Internet trolls wielding the power of social media can be several orders of magnitude more devastating.
Not surprisingly, physicians like to practice in comfortable surroundings, which of course draw other physicians, and in short order physicians can find themselves facing the fear of competition. Before insurance companies controlled the landscape, physicians didn’t have to worry about maintaining a stable panel of patients. Now a physician must worry that he or she may be delisted on the whim of a committee of number crunchers. Although I always was concerned on keeping current, my accreditation was grandfathered, and I didn’t have to worry about maintenance of certification (MOC) exams and deadlines. And of course I completed my education with what I considered at the time a whopping $3,200 of debt, but at an interest rate so low that we could make more money in CDs (certificates of deposit).
I wish I could end with something of more substance than Franklin Roosevelt’s advice that the only thing to fear is fear itself. But I’m afraid I can’t.
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’m sometimes asked what was different about practicing pediatrics when I was at the apex of my clinical career. Colored by the recent memory of several painful adjustments to unworkable and time-gobbling electronic medical record systems, I usually answer, “It was more fun before the damn computer landed in my exam room.” However, an op-ed piece in the New York Times has prompted me to reconsider how the practice of medicine has changed over the last 50 years (“An Era Defined by Fear,” by David Brooks, April 29, 2019).
Mr. Brooks claims that the era in which we are living is defined by fear. He argues that beginning with the terrorist attacks of 9/11, fear has crept into every corner or our lives, influencing how we relate to one another and govern ourselves. Fueled by a media that feeds us “breaking news” at every hour of the day, we have become a country of people who see everything through the “dark filter” of fear.
I can recall monthly air raid drills during which my third-grade classmates and I scurried under our desks for what seemed hours. And I know my parents were concerned as polio swept through my hometown and the surrounding communities. But I don’t recall feeling the same omnipresent fear that I began to see over the last decade and a half of my practice.
Bombs never landed in Pleasantville, New York, and we knew our school was safe. Third graders today have been told that other third graders have been shot and killed in schools they thought were safe. I knew that there was a risk I might get my “bell rung” playing football. But neither my parents nor I worried that repeated concussions might hasten dementia. My parents and I knew that the weather was unpredictable, but we weren’t bombarded with warnings that the ocean might engulf our home or that the planet was dying.
I suspect my parents worried how I would find my way in the world, but not with the level of anxiety that I feel in parents today who are obsessed with their own fear of failure. And as David Brooks observes, “fear generates fear.” A fearful parent is likely to raise a fearful child. It’s not surprising that today’s pediatricians feel that their appointment lists are filled to the bursting point with patients who have mental health complaints, with anxiety and depression high on the list of diagnoses.
Foremost among our fears is the threat of malpractice litigation. We are coached in risk management strategies, and although we may not admit it, many of us are practicing defensive medicine, a scourge that appeared only infrequently in my first 2 decades of practice. While rumors always could tarnish a physician’s reputation in a small town, the damage done by Internet trolls wielding the power of social media can be several orders of magnitude more devastating.
Not surprisingly, physicians like to practice in comfortable surroundings, which of course draw other physicians, and in short order physicians can find themselves facing the fear of competition. Before insurance companies controlled the landscape, physicians didn’t have to worry about maintaining a stable panel of patients. Now a physician must worry that he or she may be delisted on the whim of a committee of number crunchers. Although I always was concerned on keeping current, my accreditation was grandfathered, and I didn’t have to worry about maintenance of certification (MOC) exams and deadlines. And of course I completed my education with what I considered at the time a whopping $3,200 of debt, but at an interest rate so low that we could make more money in CDs (certificates of deposit).
I wish I could end with something of more substance than Franklin Roosevelt’s advice that the only thing to fear is fear itself. But I’m afraid I can’t.
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 breath of objectivity
How many minutes do you spend each day trying to coax new parents off the guilt train? They have delayed their childbearing until they felt comfortable economically and emotionally ready to raise a child. Convinced that up to this point they have done enough correctly to be considered successful, they see no reason that they won’t be able to tackle parenthood just as easily. Their black lab is a model of obedience. Housebreaking him was a breeze. They are skilled at using the Internet and social media to gather the information they will need for raising a child.
However, at some point in the first 72 hours after the birth of their child, most parents are going to hit the wall of reality. It may be that breastfeeding doesn’t work as well their cousin told them it would or simply that babies cry, often for no discernible reason. Desperately wanting to do what’s right for their child, guilt creeps in as the little failures and fatigue begin to accumulate.
In their search for answers, new parents naturally come to us as pediatricians and family practitioners for the facts, but they also will search the Internet, talk to lactation consultants, and be bombarded by unsolicited advice from family members and neighbors. Every source they turn to, including physicians, will be filtered through its own bias.
I recently came across the most sensible advice for new parents I have read in a long time, and it came not from a pediatrician but from an economics professor at Brown University. Emily Oster, PhD, writing in the New York Times, examines the available data on the topics of breastfeeding, sleep training, and parents working out of the home with the objectivity of an economist and the sensitivity of a mother who has been there and done that (“The Data All Guilt-Ridden Parents Need,” New York Times, April 19, 2019).
For example, she observes that many of the benefits of breastfeeding are supported by some evidence, “just not always especially good evidence. And even when the evidence is good, the benefits are smaller than many people realize.” She points out that “most studies of breastfeeding are biased by the fact that women who breastfeed are typically different from those who do not.” I will leave it to you to read her full discussion that includes a comparison of random trials versus observational studies. But she concludes that, if one relies on only good evidence, the only demonstrable benefit of breastfeeding is for mothers who nurse longer than 12 months who may have a 20%-30% decrease in breast cancer risk.
Using the same kind of careful analysis, Dr. Oster finds that sleep training may have a short-term benefit for parents who will have improved sleep and less maternal depression, but in the long run children who were sleep trained were no different than those that weren’t.
She also finds that, when it comes to the “optimal configuration of adult work hours” for a household, there is “no compelling evidence that proves that having a stay-at-home parent affects child outcomes, positively or negatively.” It is up to each household what works best for all it members, not just the child.
I found it particularly helpful as a practitioner who has often felt shackled, or at least disadvantaged, by the American Academy of Pediatrics’ overly simplistic and sometimes biased recommendations on issues that send my patients’ parents on unfortunate and avoidable guilt trips.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
How many minutes do you spend each day trying to coax new parents off the guilt train? They have delayed their childbearing until they felt comfortable economically and emotionally ready to raise a child. Convinced that up to this point they have done enough correctly to be considered successful, they see no reason that they won’t be able to tackle parenthood just as easily. Their black lab is a model of obedience. Housebreaking him was a breeze. They are skilled at using the Internet and social media to gather the information they will need for raising a child.
However, at some point in the first 72 hours after the birth of their child, most parents are going to hit the wall of reality. It may be that breastfeeding doesn’t work as well their cousin told them it would or simply that babies cry, often for no discernible reason. Desperately wanting to do what’s right for their child, guilt creeps in as the little failures and fatigue begin to accumulate.
In their search for answers, new parents naturally come to us as pediatricians and family practitioners for the facts, but they also will search the Internet, talk to lactation consultants, and be bombarded by unsolicited advice from family members and neighbors. Every source they turn to, including physicians, will be filtered through its own bias.
I recently came across the most sensible advice for new parents I have read in a long time, and it came not from a pediatrician but from an economics professor at Brown University. Emily Oster, PhD, writing in the New York Times, examines the available data on the topics of breastfeeding, sleep training, and parents working out of the home with the objectivity of an economist and the sensitivity of a mother who has been there and done that (“The Data All Guilt-Ridden Parents Need,” New York Times, April 19, 2019).
For example, she observes that many of the benefits of breastfeeding are supported by some evidence, “just not always especially good evidence. And even when the evidence is good, the benefits are smaller than many people realize.” She points out that “most studies of breastfeeding are biased by the fact that women who breastfeed are typically different from those who do not.” I will leave it to you to read her full discussion that includes a comparison of random trials versus observational studies. But she concludes that, if one relies on only good evidence, the only demonstrable benefit of breastfeeding is for mothers who nurse longer than 12 months who may have a 20%-30% decrease in breast cancer risk.
Using the same kind of careful analysis, Dr. Oster finds that sleep training may have a short-term benefit for parents who will have improved sleep and less maternal depression, but in the long run children who were sleep trained were no different than those that weren’t.
She also finds that, when it comes to the “optimal configuration of adult work hours” for a household, there is “no compelling evidence that proves that having a stay-at-home parent affects child outcomes, positively or negatively.” It is up to each household what works best for all it members, not just the child.
I found it particularly helpful as a practitioner who has often felt shackled, or at least disadvantaged, by the American Academy of Pediatrics’ overly simplistic and sometimes biased recommendations on issues that send my patients’ parents on unfortunate and avoidable guilt trips.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
How many minutes do you spend each day trying to coax new parents off the guilt train? They have delayed their childbearing until they felt comfortable economically and emotionally ready to raise a child. Convinced that up to this point they have done enough correctly to be considered successful, they see no reason that they won’t be able to tackle parenthood just as easily. Their black lab is a model of obedience. Housebreaking him was a breeze. They are skilled at using the Internet and social media to gather the information they will need for raising a child.
However, at some point in the first 72 hours after the birth of their child, most parents are going to hit the wall of reality. It may be that breastfeeding doesn’t work as well their cousin told them it would or simply that babies cry, often for no discernible reason. Desperately wanting to do what’s right for their child, guilt creeps in as the little failures and fatigue begin to accumulate.
In their search for answers, new parents naturally come to us as pediatricians and family practitioners for the facts, but they also will search the Internet, talk to lactation consultants, and be bombarded by unsolicited advice from family members and neighbors. Every source they turn to, including physicians, will be filtered through its own bias.
I recently came across the most sensible advice for new parents I have read in a long time, and it came not from a pediatrician but from an economics professor at Brown University. Emily Oster, PhD, writing in the New York Times, examines the available data on the topics of breastfeeding, sleep training, and parents working out of the home with the objectivity of an economist and the sensitivity of a mother who has been there and done that (“The Data All Guilt-Ridden Parents Need,” New York Times, April 19, 2019).
For example, she observes that many of the benefits of breastfeeding are supported by some evidence, “just not always especially good evidence. And even when the evidence is good, the benefits are smaller than many people realize.” She points out that “most studies of breastfeeding are biased by the fact that women who breastfeed are typically different from those who do not.” I will leave it to you to read her full discussion that includes a comparison of random trials versus observational studies. But she concludes that, if one relies on only good evidence, the only demonstrable benefit of breastfeeding is for mothers who nurse longer than 12 months who may have a 20%-30% decrease in breast cancer risk.
Using the same kind of careful analysis, Dr. Oster finds that sleep training may have a short-term benefit for parents who will have improved sleep and less maternal depression, but in the long run children who were sleep trained were no different than those that weren’t.
She also finds that, when it comes to the “optimal configuration of adult work hours” for a household, there is “no compelling evidence that proves that having a stay-at-home parent affects child outcomes, positively or negatively.” It is up to each household what works best for all it members, not just the child.
I found it particularly helpful as a practitioner who has often felt shackled, or at least disadvantaged, by the American Academy of Pediatrics’ overly simplistic and sometimes biased recommendations on issues that send my patients’ parents on unfortunate and avoidable guilt trips.
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 telemedicine compromise
It’s late on a Thursday afternoon. Even through the six walls that separate you from the waiting room you can feel the impatient throng of families as you struggle to see the tympanic membrane of a feverish and uncooperative 3-year-old. You already have scraped his auditory canal once with your curette. Your gut tells you that he must have an otitis but deeper in your soul there are other voices reminding you that to make the diagnosis you must visualize his ear drum. Your skill and the technology on hand has failed you.
It’s a Sunday morning, weekend hours, and you are seeing a 12-year-old with a sore throat and fever. Her physical exam suggests that she has strep pharyngitis but the team member in charge of restocking supplies has forgotten to reorder rapid strep kits and you used the last one yesterday afternoon.
Do you ignore your training and treat these sick children with antibiotics?
If you are someone who perceives the world in black and white, your response to these scenarios is simple because you NEVER prescribe antibiotics without seeing a tympanic membrane or confirming your suspicion with a rapid strep test. There are unrealistic solutions that could include requesting an immediate ear/nose/throat consult or sending the patient on an hour-long odyssey to the hospital lab. But for the rest of us who see in shades of gray, we may have to compromise our principles and temporarily become poor antibiotic stewards. The question is, how often do you compromise? Once a week, once a month, twice a year, or twice a day?
A study published in Pediatrics looks at the issue of antibiotic stewardship as it relates to telemedicine (“Antibiotic Prescribing During Pediatrics Direct-to-Consumer Telemedicine Visits,” Pediatrics. 2019 May. doi: 10.1542/peds.2018-2491).
The investigators found that children with acute respiratory infections were more likely to receive antibiotics and less likely to receive guideline concordant management at direct-to-consumer (DTC) telemedicine visits than when they were seen by their primary care physician or at an urgent care center.
In their discussion, the researchers note several possible explanations for the discrepancies they observed. DTC telemedicine visits are limited by the devices used by the families and physicians and generally lack availability of otoscopy and strep testing. The authors also wonder whether “there may be differential expectations for antibiotics among children and parents who use DTC telemedicine versus in person care.” Does this mean that families who utilize DTC telemedicine undervalue in-person care and/or are willing to compromise by accepting what they may suspect is substandard care for the convenience of DTC telemedicine?
Which brings me to my point. A physician who accepts the challenge of seeing pediatric patients with acute respiratory illnesses knowing that he or she will not be able to visualize tympanic membranes or perform strep testing also has accepted the fact that he or she will be compromising the principles of antibiotic stewardship he or she must have – or maybe should have – learned in medical school or residency.
We all occasionally compromise our principles when technology fails us or when the situations are extraordinary. But I am troubled that there some physicians who are willing to practice in an environment in which they are aware that they will be compromising their antibiotic stewardship on a daily or even hourly basis.
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’s late on a Thursday afternoon. Even through the six walls that separate you from the waiting room you can feel the impatient throng of families as you struggle to see the tympanic membrane of a feverish and uncooperative 3-year-old. You already have scraped his auditory canal once with your curette. Your gut tells you that he must have an otitis but deeper in your soul there are other voices reminding you that to make the diagnosis you must visualize his ear drum. Your skill and the technology on hand has failed you.
It’s a Sunday morning, weekend hours, and you are seeing a 12-year-old with a sore throat and fever. Her physical exam suggests that she has strep pharyngitis but the team member in charge of restocking supplies has forgotten to reorder rapid strep kits and you used the last one yesterday afternoon.
Do you ignore your training and treat these sick children with antibiotics?
If you are someone who perceives the world in black and white, your response to these scenarios is simple because you NEVER prescribe antibiotics without seeing a tympanic membrane or confirming your suspicion with a rapid strep test. There are unrealistic solutions that could include requesting an immediate ear/nose/throat consult or sending the patient on an hour-long odyssey to the hospital lab. But for the rest of us who see in shades of gray, we may have to compromise our principles and temporarily become poor antibiotic stewards. The question is, how often do you compromise? Once a week, once a month, twice a year, or twice a day?
A study published in Pediatrics looks at the issue of antibiotic stewardship as it relates to telemedicine (“Antibiotic Prescribing During Pediatrics Direct-to-Consumer Telemedicine Visits,” Pediatrics. 2019 May. doi: 10.1542/peds.2018-2491).
The investigators found that children with acute respiratory infections were more likely to receive antibiotics and less likely to receive guideline concordant management at direct-to-consumer (DTC) telemedicine visits than when they were seen by their primary care physician or at an urgent care center.
In their discussion, the researchers note several possible explanations for the discrepancies they observed. DTC telemedicine visits are limited by the devices used by the families and physicians and generally lack availability of otoscopy and strep testing. The authors also wonder whether “there may be differential expectations for antibiotics among children and parents who use DTC telemedicine versus in person care.” Does this mean that families who utilize DTC telemedicine undervalue in-person care and/or are willing to compromise by accepting what they may suspect is substandard care for the convenience of DTC telemedicine?
Which brings me to my point. A physician who accepts the challenge of seeing pediatric patients with acute respiratory illnesses knowing that he or she will not be able to visualize tympanic membranes or perform strep testing also has accepted the fact that he or she will be compromising the principles of antibiotic stewardship he or she must have – or maybe should have – learned in medical school or residency.
We all occasionally compromise our principles when technology fails us or when the situations are extraordinary. But I am troubled that there some physicians who are willing to practice in an environment in which they are aware that they will be compromising their antibiotic stewardship on a daily or even hourly basis.
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’s late on a Thursday afternoon. Even through the six walls that separate you from the waiting room you can feel the impatient throng of families as you struggle to see the tympanic membrane of a feverish and uncooperative 3-year-old. You already have scraped his auditory canal once with your curette. Your gut tells you that he must have an otitis but deeper in your soul there are other voices reminding you that to make the diagnosis you must visualize his ear drum. Your skill and the technology on hand has failed you.
It’s a Sunday morning, weekend hours, and you are seeing a 12-year-old with a sore throat and fever. Her physical exam suggests that she has strep pharyngitis but the team member in charge of restocking supplies has forgotten to reorder rapid strep kits and you used the last one yesterday afternoon.
Do you ignore your training and treat these sick children with antibiotics?
If you are someone who perceives the world in black and white, your response to these scenarios is simple because you NEVER prescribe antibiotics without seeing a tympanic membrane or confirming your suspicion with a rapid strep test. There are unrealistic solutions that could include requesting an immediate ear/nose/throat consult or sending the patient on an hour-long odyssey to the hospital lab. But for the rest of us who see in shades of gray, we may have to compromise our principles and temporarily become poor antibiotic stewards. The question is, how often do you compromise? Once a week, once a month, twice a year, or twice a day?
A study published in Pediatrics looks at the issue of antibiotic stewardship as it relates to telemedicine (“Antibiotic Prescribing During Pediatrics Direct-to-Consumer Telemedicine Visits,” Pediatrics. 2019 May. doi: 10.1542/peds.2018-2491).
The investigators found that children with acute respiratory infections were more likely to receive antibiotics and less likely to receive guideline concordant management at direct-to-consumer (DTC) telemedicine visits than when they were seen by their primary care physician or at an urgent care center.
In their discussion, the researchers note several possible explanations for the discrepancies they observed. DTC telemedicine visits are limited by the devices used by the families and physicians and generally lack availability of otoscopy and strep testing. The authors also wonder whether “there may be differential expectations for antibiotics among children and parents who use DTC telemedicine versus in person care.” Does this mean that families who utilize DTC telemedicine undervalue in-person care and/or are willing to compromise by accepting what they may suspect is substandard care for the convenience of DTC telemedicine?
Which brings me to my point. A physician who accepts the challenge of seeing pediatric patients with acute respiratory illnesses knowing that he or she will not be able to visualize tympanic membranes or perform strep testing also has accepted the fact that he or she will be compromising the principles of antibiotic stewardship he or she must have – or maybe should have – learned in medical school or residency.
We all occasionally compromise our principles when technology fails us or when the situations are extraordinary. But I am troubled that there some physicians who are willing to practice in an environment in which they are aware that they will be compromising their antibiotic stewardship on a daily or even hourly basis.
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 chance to unite
Is America coming apart at the seams? According to the press, there are more things that divide us than bind us together. It’s red state versus blue state, it’s the privileged versus the disadvantaged, people of color versus the white majority. Could the great melting pot have cooled and its contents settled out into a dozen stratified layers?
Despite the image of a divided America that we see portrayed in the newspapers and on television, I continue to believe that there is more that we share in common than separate us, but it’s a struggle. The media operate on the assumption that conflict draws more readers than good news about cooperation and compromise. The situation is compounded by the apparent absence of a leader from either party who wants to unite us.
However, when one scratches the surface, there is surprising amount of agreement among Americans. For example, according to John Gramlich (“7 facts about guns in the U.S.,” Pew Research Center, Dec. 27, 2018), 89% of both Republicans and Democrats feel that people with mental illness should not be allowed to purchase a gun. And 79% of Republicans and 91% of Democrats favor background checks at gun shows and for private sales for purchase of a gun. As of 2018, 58% of Americans feel that abortion should be legal in all or most cases, and only 37% feel it should be illegal in all or most cases. (“Public Opinion on Abortion,” Pew Research Center, Oct. 15, 2018).
At the core of many of our struggles to unite is a question that has bedeviled democracies for millennia: How does one balance a citizen’s freedom of choice with the health and safety of the society in which that person lives? While resolutions on gun control and abortion seem unlikely in the foreseeable future, the current outbreaks of measles offer America a rare opportunity to unite on an issue that pits personal freedom against societal safety.
According to Virginia Villa (“5 facts about vaccines in the U.S.,” Pew Research Center, Mar. 19, 2019), 82% of adults in the United States believe that the MMR vaccine should be required for public school attendance, while only 17% believe that parents should be allowed to leave their child unvaccinated even if their decision creates a health risk for other children and adults.
Why should we expect the government to respond to protect the population from the risk posed by the unvaccinated minority when it has done very little to further gun control? Obviously a key difference is that the antivaccination minority lacks the financial resources and political muscle of a large organization such as the National Rifle Association. While we must never underestimate the power of social media, the publicity surfacing from the mainstream media as the measles outbreaks in the United States have continued has prompted several states to rethink their policies regarding vaccination requirements and school attendance. Here in Maine, there has been strong support among the legislature for eliminating exemptions for philosophic or religious exemptions.
It is probably unrealistic to expect the federal government to act on the health threat caused by the antivaccine movement. However, it is encouraging that, at least at the local level, there is hope for closing one of the wounds that divide us. As providers who care for children, we should seize this opportunity created by the measles outbreaks to promote legislation and policies that strike a sensible balance between the right of the individual and the safety of the society at large.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Is America coming apart at the seams? According to the press, there are more things that divide us than bind us together. It’s red state versus blue state, it’s the privileged versus the disadvantaged, people of color versus the white majority. Could the great melting pot have cooled and its contents settled out into a dozen stratified layers?
Despite the image of a divided America that we see portrayed in the newspapers and on television, I continue to believe that there is more that we share in common than separate us, but it’s a struggle. The media operate on the assumption that conflict draws more readers than good news about cooperation and compromise. The situation is compounded by the apparent absence of a leader from either party who wants to unite us.
However, when one scratches the surface, there is surprising amount of agreement among Americans. For example, according to John Gramlich (“7 facts about guns in the U.S.,” Pew Research Center, Dec. 27, 2018), 89% of both Republicans and Democrats feel that people with mental illness should not be allowed to purchase a gun. And 79% of Republicans and 91% of Democrats favor background checks at gun shows and for private sales for purchase of a gun. As of 2018, 58% of Americans feel that abortion should be legal in all or most cases, and only 37% feel it should be illegal in all or most cases. (“Public Opinion on Abortion,” Pew Research Center, Oct. 15, 2018).
At the core of many of our struggles to unite is a question that has bedeviled democracies for millennia: How does one balance a citizen’s freedom of choice with the health and safety of the society in which that person lives? While resolutions on gun control and abortion seem unlikely in the foreseeable future, the current outbreaks of measles offer America a rare opportunity to unite on an issue that pits personal freedom against societal safety.
According to Virginia Villa (“5 facts about vaccines in the U.S.,” Pew Research Center, Mar. 19, 2019), 82% of adults in the United States believe that the MMR vaccine should be required for public school attendance, while only 17% believe that parents should be allowed to leave their child unvaccinated even if their decision creates a health risk for other children and adults.
Why should we expect the government to respond to protect the population from the risk posed by the unvaccinated minority when it has done very little to further gun control? Obviously a key difference is that the antivaccination minority lacks the financial resources and political muscle of a large organization such as the National Rifle Association. While we must never underestimate the power of social media, the publicity surfacing from the mainstream media as the measles outbreaks in the United States have continued has prompted several states to rethink their policies regarding vaccination requirements and school attendance. Here in Maine, there has been strong support among the legislature for eliminating exemptions for philosophic or religious exemptions.
It is probably unrealistic to expect the federal government to act on the health threat caused by the antivaccine movement. However, it is encouraging that, at least at the local level, there is hope for closing one of the wounds that divide us. As providers who care for children, we should seize this opportunity created by the measles outbreaks to promote legislation and policies that strike a sensible balance between the right of the individual and the safety of the society at large.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Is America coming apart at the seams? According to the press, there are more things that divide us than bind us together. It’s red state versus blue state, it’s the privileged versus the disadvantaged, people of color versus the white majority. Could the great melting pot have cooled and its contents settled out into a dozen stratified layers?
Despite the image of a divided America that we see portrayed in the newspapers and on television, I continue to believe that there is more that we share in common than separate us, but it’s a struggle. The media operate on the assumption that conflict draws more readers than good news about cooperation and compromise. The situation is compounded by the apparent absence of a leader from either party who wants to unite us.
However, when one scratches the surface, there is surprising amount of agreement among Americans. For example, according to John Gramlich (“7 facts about guns in the U.S.,” Pew Research Center, Dec. 27, 2018), 89% of both Republicans and Democrats feel that people with mental illness should not be allowed to purchase a gun. And 79% of Republicans and 91% of Democrats favor background checks at gun shows and for private sales for purchase of a gun. As of 2018, 58% of Americans feel that abortion should be legal in all or most cases, and only 37% feel it should be illegal in all or most cases. (“Public Opinion on Abortion,” Pew Research Center, Oct. 15, 2018).
At the core of many of our struggles to unite is a question that has bedeviled democracies for millennia: How does one balance a citizen’s freedom of choice with the health and safety of the society in which that person lives? While resolutions on gun control and abortion seem unlikely in the foreseeable future, the current outbreaks of measles offer America a rare opportunity to unite on an issue that pits personal freedom against societal safety.
According to Virginia Villa (“5 facts about vaccines in the U.S.,” Pew Research Center, Mar. 19, 2019), 82% of adults in the United States believe that the MMR vaccine should be required for public school attendance, while only 17% believe that parents should be allowed to leave their child unvaccinated even if their decision creates a health risk for other children and adults.
Why should we expect the government to respond to protect the population from the risk posed by the unvaccinated minority when it has done very little to further gun control? Obviously a key difference is that the antivaccination minority lacks the financial resources and political muscle of a large organization such as the National Rifle Association. While we must never underestimate the power of social media, the publicity surfacing from the mainstream media as the measles outbreaks in the United States have continued has prompted several states to rethink their policies regarding vaccination requirements and school attendance. Here in Maine, there has been strong support among the legislature for eliminating exemptions for philosophic or religious exemptions.
It is probably unrealistic to expect the federal government to act on the health threat caused by the antivaccine movement. However, it is encouraging that, at least at the local level, there is hope for closing one of the wounds that divide us. As providers who care for children, we should seize this opportunity created by the measles outbreaks to promote legislation and policies that strike a sensible balance between the right of the individual and the safety of the society at large.
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].