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Beware of the Ides of August
I suspect, like me, you have never put much stock in astrology. It just doesn’t feel like a good fit with our science-based training. But recent evidence suggests that maybe we should be paying more attention to the whether our patient is a Taurus or a Leo when we are hunting for a diagnosis.
Three researchers from Harvard’s Schools of Medicine and Public Health have followed several hundred thousand children born between 2007 and 2009 until 2016 (“Attention deficit–hyperactivity disorder and month of school enrollment,” N Engl J Med. 2018;379:2122-30). Their data revealed that, in states with a Sept. 1 school entry cutoff, children born in August had rates of diagnosis and treatment of ADHD that were 34% higher than those born in other months.
Their findings could mean that astrology deserves a lot more credibility than we have been giving it. More likely it suggests that those of us committed to the health and education of children deserve a booby prize for objectivity. In a New York Times Op-Ed piece, the study’s investigators point out that their data show that the relative immaturity of the youngest children in a class too often is interpreted as a symptom of ADHD (“The Link Between August Birthdays and ADHD,” 2018 Nov 28. Jena AB et al.).
For many of us who practiced pediatrics before the ADHD phenomenon erupted, this new study substantiates our suspicion that the condition is currently being both overdiagnosed and overtreated. The data leave unanswered the question of whom or what is to blame for starting the epidemic. However, the study does suggest that physicians and educators deserve some culpability by failing to maintain their objectivity when interpreting childhood behavior.
I clearly can recall the first time I spoke to a group of teachers about the articles I had been reading that suggested a beneficial effect of treating “hyperactive” children with stimulant medication. The teachers uniformly were incredulous and repulsed by the counterintuitive notion of medicating children whom they saw as difficult, but not out of the broad range of age and developmental maturity they could expect to see in their classrooms.
The next part of the narrative is where the story gets sad. Deceived by those success stories we – doctors, parents, and educators – began to narrow our view of normal behavior because we now had a medication to “correct” a certain constellation of problem behaviors. Pharmaceutical companies joined us with their best efforts to meet the demand we were creating.
Forgotten was the fact that children mature at different rates and that normal but less mature children can exhibit many of the behaviors we now place under the ADHD umbrella and be considered as candidates for medication. Until recently, other causes of hyperactivity such as sleep deprivation were ignored. Hopefully, this new study will rekindle an interest in how parents, pediatricians, and educators evaluate and manage those children who arrive in school several months behind their peers in emotional and behavioral development.
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 suspect, like me, you have never put much stock in astrology. It just doesn’t feel like a good fit with our science-based training. But recent evidence suggests that maybe we should be paying more attention to the whether our patient is a Taurus or a Leo when we are hunting for a diagnosis.
Three researchers from Harvard’s Schools of Medicine and Public Health have followed several hundred thousand children born between 2007 and 2009 until 2016 (“Attention deficit–hyperactivity disorder and month of school enrollment,” N Engl J Med. 2018;379:2122-30). Their data revealed that, in states with a Sept. 1 school entry cutoff, children born in August had rates of diagnosis and treatment of ADHD that were 34% higher than those born in other months.
Their findings could mean that astrology deserves a lot more credibility than we have been giving it. More likely it suggests that those of us committed to the health and education of children deserve a booby prize for objectivity. In a New York Times Op-Ed piece, the study’s investigators point out that their data show that the relative immaturity of the youngest children in a class too often is interpreted as a symptom of ADHD (“The Link Between August Birthdays and ADHD,” 2018 Nov 28. Jena AB et al.).
For many of us who practiced pediatrics before the ADHD phenomenon erupted, this new study substantiates our suspicion that the condition is currently being both overdiagnosed and overtreated. The data leave unanswered the question of whom or what is to blame for starting the epidemic. However, the study does suggest that physicians and educators deserve some culpability by failing to maintain their objectivity when interpreting childhood behavior.
I clearly can recall the first time I spoke to a group of teachers about the articles I had been reading that suggested a beneficial effect of treating “hyperactive” children with stimulant medication. The teachers uniformly were incredulous and repulsed by the counterintuitive notion of medicating children whom they saw as difficult, but not out of the broad range of age and developmental maturity they could expect to see in their classrooms.
The next part of the narrative is where the story gets sad. Deceived by those success stories we – doctors, parents, and educators – began to narrow our view of normal behavior because we now had a medication to “correct” a certain constellation of problem behaviors. Pharmaceutical companies joined us with their best efforts to meet the demand we were creating.
Forgotten was the fact that children mature at different rates and that normal but less mature children can exhibit many of the behaviors we now place under the ADHD umbrella and be considered as candidates for medication. Until recently, other causes of hyperactivity such as sleep deprivation were ignored. Hopefully, this new study will rekindle an interest in how parents, pediatricians, and educators evaluate and manage those children who arrive in school several months behind their peers in emotional and behavioral development.
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 suspect, like me, you have never put much stock in astrology. It just doesn’t feel like a good fit with our science-based training. But recent evidence suggests that maybe we should be paying more attention to the whether our patient is a Taurus or a Leo when we are hunting for a diagnosis.
Three researchers from Harvard’s Schools of Medicine and Public Health have followed several hundred thousand children born between 2007 and 2009 until 2016 (“Attention deficit–hyperactivity disorder and month of school enrollment,” N Engl J Med. 2018;379:2122-30). Their data revealed that, in states with a Sept. 1 school entry cutoff, children born in August had rates of diagnosis and treatment of ADHD that were 34% higher than those born in other months.
Their findings could mean that astrology deserves a lot more credibility than we have been giving it. More likely it suggests that those of us committed to the health and education of children deserve a booby prize for objectivity. In a New York Times Op-Ed piece, the study’s investigators point out that their data show that the relative immaturity of the youngest children in a class too often is interpreted as a symptom of ADHD (“The Link Between August Birthdays and ADHD,” 2018 Nov 28. Jena AB et al.).
For many of us who practiced pediatrics before the ADHD phenomenon erupted, this new study substantiates our suspicion that the condition is currently being both overdiagnosed and overtreated. The data leave unanswered the question of whom or what is to blame for starting the epidemic. However, the study does suggest that physicians and educators deserve some culpability by failing to maintain their objectivity when interpreting childhood behavior.
I clearly can recall the first time I spoke to a group of teachers about the articles I had been reading that suggested a beneficial effect of treating “hyperactive” children with stimulant medication. The teachers uniformly were incredulous and repulsed by the counterintuitive notion of medicating children whom they saw as difficult, but not out of the broad range of age and developmental maturity they could expect to see in their classrooms.
The next part of the narrative is where the story gets sad. Deceived by those success stories we – doctors, parents, and educators – began to narrow our view of normal behavior because we now had a medication to “correct” a certain constellation of problem behaviors. Pharmaceutical companies joined us with their best efforts to meet the demand we were creating.
Forgotten was the fact that children mature at different rates and that normal but less mature children can exhibit many of the behaviors we now place under the ADHD umbrella and be considered as candidates for medication. Until recently, other causes of hyperactivity such as sleep deprivation were ignored. Hopefully, this new study will rekindle an interest in how parents, pediatricians, and educators evaluate and manage those children who arrive in school several months behind their peers in emotional and behavioral development.
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 risks of intensive parenting
“Parenthood in the United States has become much more demanding than it used to be.” It is hard to argue with this opening sentence in Clair Cain Miller’s op-ed piece titled “The Relentlessness of Modern Parenting,” published in the Dec. 25, 2018, electronic edition of the New York Times. But just in case you don’t agree with her premise, she lays out her case with evidence that parents in this country are investing more time, attention, and money into raising their children than was the norm several decades ago. She goes on to describe how this “intensive parenting” is taking its toll on parents on both sides of our nation’s widening economic divide. I’m sure you have seen it in your office in the tired faces and stooped shoulders of your patients’ parents. You may even be struggling yourself to find the time and energy to be the parent you believe your children need and deserve.
While there is debate on whether “parent” is inherently a verb or a noun (“Parent is a Noun, Not a Verb,” Cliff Price, the Australian Family Association; “Parent is a Verb – and we All do it,” Zaeli Kane, mother.ly), it is clear that “parenting” used as a verb has become one of the hot topics in pediatrics over the last quarter century and with it an epidemic of parental anxiety. What are the driving forces behind this shift in attitude? How has a relatively relaxed nature-will-take-its-course philosophy become an anxiety-provoking, stress-inducing phenomenon that will inevitably result in a disturbed and disappointed adult without a parent’s relentless attention to creating a nurturing and optimally stimulating environment?
Of course, parents have always worried about the health of their children and hope that they will be successful, regardless of how one defines success. But this natural parental concern seems to have gotten out of hand.
Is it because North Americans are having fewer children? Is it because in smaller families children become adults with little or no practical experience with hands-on child rearing? Are parents reacting to the predictions that the next generation may not be able to earn enough to match their parents’ lifestyle?
How much blame should fall on those of us who market ourselves as child health experts? Have we failed to put the research supporting the importance of early life experiences in the proper perspective? Are our recommendations creating unrealistic goals for parents? The American Academy of Pediatrics advice on breastfeeding duration and room sharing come to mind immediately. How realistic is it for parents to coview the majority of television shows their children are watching?
On one hand, we are beginning to realize that free play is important, but for years pediatricians have been one of the loudest voices supporting playground and toy safety. These two initiatives can certainly coexist, but I fear that at times we have begun to sound a bit like that annoying parent who is constantly warning his or her child, “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself?”
Have we become the worry merchants? As a marketing strategy it seems to be working well. If we generate enough advice that supports an intensive parenting style, we can fill our waiting rooms with families struggling to meet the expectations we have been promoting.
A child can thrive without intensive parenting as long as he feels loved and he has been provided an environment with sensible limits to keep him safe.
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].
“Parenthood in the United States has become much more demanding than it used to be.” It is hard to argue with this opening sentence in Clair Cain Miller’s op-ed piece titled “The Relentlessness of Modern Parenting,” published in the Dec. 25, 2018, electronic edition of the New York Times. But just in case you don’t agree with her premise, she lays out her case with evidence that parents in this country are investing more time, attention, and money into raising their children than was the norm several decades ago. She goes on to describe how this “intensive parenting” is taking its toll on parents on both sides of our nation’s widening economic divide. I’m sure you have seen it in your office in the tired faces and stooped shoulders of your patients’ parents. You may even be struggling yourself to find the time and energy to be the parent you believe your children need and deserve.
While there is debate on whether “parent” is inherently a verb or a noun (“Parent is a Noun, Not a Verb,” Cliff Price, the Australian Family Association; “Parent is a Verb – and we All do it,” Zaeli Kane, mother.ly), it is clear that “parenting” used as a verb has become one of the hot topics in pediatrics over the last quarter century and with it an epidemic of parental anxiety. What are the driving forces behind this shift in attitude? How has a relatively relaxed nature-will-take-its-course philosophy become an anxiety-provoking, stress-inducing phenomenon that will inevitably result in a disturbed and disappointed adult without a parent’s relentless attention to creating a nurturing and optimally stimulating environment?
Of course, parents have always worried about the health of their children and hope that they will be successful, regardless of how one defines success. But this natural parental concern seems to have gotten out of hand.
Is it because North Americans are having fewer children? Is it because in smaller families children become adults with little or no practical experience with hands-on child rearing? Are parents reacting to the predictions that the next generation may not be able to earn enough to match their parents’ lifestyle?
How much blame should fall on those of us who market ourselves as child health experts? Have we failed to put the research supporting the importance of early life experiences in the proper perspective? Are our recommendations creating unrealistic goals for parents? The American Academy of Pediatrics advice on breastfeeding duration and room sharing come to mind immediately. How realistic is it for parents to coview the majority of television shows their children are watching?
On one hand, we are beginning to realize that free play is important, but for years pediatricians have been one of the loudest voices supporting playground and toy safety. These two initiatives can certainly coexist, but I fear that at times we have begun to sound a bit like that annoying parent who is constantly warning his or her child, “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself?”
Have we become the worry merchants? As a marketing strategy it seems to be working well. If we generate enough advice that supports an intensive parenting style, we can fill our waiting rooms with families struggling to meet the expectations we have been promoting.
A child can thrive without intensive parenting as long as he feels loved and he has been provided an environment with sensible limits to keep him safe.
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].
“Parenthood in the United States has become much more demanding than it used to be.” It is hard to argue with this opening sentence in Clair Cain Miller’s op-ed piece titled “The Relentlessness of Modern Parenting,” published in the Dec. 25, 2018, electronic edition of the New York Times. But just in case you don’t agree with her premise, she lays out her case with evidence that parents in this country are investing more time, attention, and money into raising their children than was the norm several decades ago. She goes on to describe how this “intensive parenting” is taking its toll on parents on both sides of our nation’s widening economic divide. I’m sure you have seen it in your office in the tired faces and stooped shoulders of your patients’ parents. You may even be struggling yourself to find the time and energy to be the parent you believe your children need and deserve.
While there is debate on whether “parent” is inherently a verb or a noun (“Parent is a Noun, Not a Verb,” Cliff Price, the Australian Family Association; “Parent is a Verb – and we All do it,” Zaeli Kane, mother.ly), it is clear that “parenting” used as a verb has become one of the hot topics in pediatrics over the last quarter century and with it an epidemic of parental anxiety. What are the driving forces behind this shift in attitude? How has a relatively relaxed nature-will-take-its-course philosophy become an anxiety-provoking, stress-inducing phenomenon that will inevitably result in a disturbed and disappointed adult without a parent’s relentless attention to creating a nurturing and optimally stimulating environment?
Of course, parents have always worried about the health of their children and hope that they will be successful, regardless of how one defines success. But this natural parental concern seems to have gotten out of hand.
Is it because North Americans are having fewer children? Is it because in smaller families children become adults with little or no practical experience with hands-on child rearing? Are parents reacting to the predictions that the next generation may not be able to earn enough to match their parents’ lifestyle?
How much blame should fall on those of us who market ourselves as child health experts? Have we failed to put the research supporting the importance of early life experiences in the proper perspective? Are our recommendations creating unrealistic goals for parents? The American Academy of Pediatrics advice on breastfeeding duration and room sharing come to mind immediately. How realistic is it for parents to coview the majority of television shows their children are watching?
On one hand, we are beginning to realize that free play is important, but for years pediatricians have been one of the loudest voices supporting playground and toy safety. These two initiatives can certainly coexist, but I fear that at times we have begun to sound a bit like that annoying parent who is constantly warning his or her child, “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself?”
Have we become the worry merchants? As a marketing strategy it seems to be working well. If we generate enough advice that supports an intensive parenting style, we can fill our waiting rooms with families struggling to meet the expectations we have been promoting.
A child can thrive without intensive parenting as long as he feels loved and he has been provided an environment with sensible limits to keep him safe.
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].
Tidying up a motley crew
It probably is buried in a box in your parents’ basement, but try to remember your soccer or football or track team picture from when you were in eighth grade. Tragically but predictably, most of your peers who were chubby in third grade are nowhere to be seen in the photo. But still it was a pretty motley crew. Some of you weren’t even up to the armpits of your taller teammates. Some guys were shaving. Others had little boys’ voices. Half the girls had reached menarche. Another third were still waiting impatiently for a breast bud.
The precocious and the late bloomers, you were all on the team. But it was pretty clear that those who had matured first generally were the more talented and successful athletes. By the time you were juniors in high school, many of those who matured late had quit the sport or been cut from the team, unable to catch up. Others may have been forced to give up the sport by their parents, who were concerned about the risk of injury when bodies of disparate size collide. A few of the early bloomers may have become depressed, older adolescents who had failed to match the hype and expectations that came when they were a head taller than their grade school teammates.
These natural consequences of biological variation are not small potatoes for the fragile egos of adolescents and preadolescents. The lead article in the November 2018 Pediatrics offers a partial solution for the issue of sports participation in a population with widely discrepant states of maturity (“Biobanding: A New Paradigm for Youth Sports and Training,” Pediatrics. 2018 Nov;142[5]:e20180423). The authors describe a system they call biobanding, in which “the percentage of predicted adult stature attained at the time of observation as the indicator of maturity status” is used to create groups or bands of participants with similar levels of maturity. They argue that this method is easy to use and report and that has been used with some success in Great Britain.
At first blush, biobanding sounds appealing, particularly for large communities. However, as someone who grew up in and practiced in a small town, I’m not sure how successfully it could be scaled down. There have been years when I could easily have disqualified a third of the high school football team were I to take into consideration the size and maturity of the competition they would be facing. But I didn’t. The fading interest in football in Maine has prompted some schools to consider moving to less-than-11-player competition or even to flag football. To some extent, the problem is taking care of itself.
How much tinkering should we be doing with something that is arguably a distorted natural selection process? With thoughtfully crafted rules, diligent supervision, and officiating, most of the issues of safety that one might attribute to discrepancies in maturity can be minimized. There always will be children who become discouraged and quit when they see the handwriting on the wall that reads “those who mature early win.” I’m certainly not wild about parents holding their children out of school to give them a jump on their peers. It can spiral out of control.
A more appealing solution is to do a better job of advertising the many successful late bloomers in professional sports ... and making sure that late-blooming children are given an abundance of active and competitive (if they wish) alternatives to sports dominated by their early maturing peers.
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 probably is buried in a box in your parents’ basement, but try to remember your soccer or football or track team picture from when you were in eighth grade. Tragically but predictably, most of your peers who were chubby in third grade are nowhere to be seen in the photo. But still it was a pretty motley crew. Some of you weren’t even up to the armpits of your taller teammates. Some guys were shaving. Others had little boys’ voices. Half the girls had reached menarche. Another third were still waiting impatiently for a breast bud.
The precocious and the late bloomers, you were all on the team. But it was pretty clear that those who had matured first generally were the more talented and successful athletes. By the time you were juniors in high school, many of those who matured late had quit the sport or been cut from the team, unable to catch up. Others may have been forced to give up the sport by their parents, who were concerned about the risk of injury when bodies of disparate size collide. A few of the early bloomers may have become depressed, older adolescents who had failed to match the hype and expectations that came when they were a head taller than their grade school teammates.
These natural consequences of biological variation are not small potatoes for the fragile egos of adolescents and preadolescents. The lead article in the November 2018 Pediatrics offers a partial solution for the issue of sports participation in a population with widely discrepant states of maturity (“Biobanding: A New Paradigm for Youth Sports and Training,” Pediatrics. 2018 Nov;142[5]:e20180423). The authors describe a system they call biobanding, in which “the percentage of predicted adult stature attained at the time of observation as the indicator of maturity status” is used to create groups or bands of participants with similar levels of maturity. They argue that this method is easy to use and report and that has been used with some success in Great Britain.
At first blush, biobanding sounds appealing, particularly for large communities. However, as someone who grew up in and practiced in a small town, I’m not sure how successfully it could be scaled down. There have been years when I could easily have disqualified a third of the high school football team were I to take into consideration the size and maturity of the competition they would be facing. But I didn’t. The fading interest in football in Maine has prompted some schools to consider moving to less-than-11-player competition or even to flag football. To some extent, the problem is taking care of itself.
How much tinkering should we be doing with something that is arguably a distorted natural selection process? With thoughtfully crafted rules, diligent supervision, and officiating, most of the issues of safety that one might attribute to discrepancies in maturity can be minimized. There always will be children who become discouraged and quit when they see the handwriting on the wall that reads “those who mature early win.” I’m certainly not wild about parents holding their children out of school to give them a jump on their peers. It can spiral out of control.
A more appealing solution is to do a better job of advertising the many successful late bloomers in professional sports ... and making sure that late-blooming children are given an abundance of active and competitive (if they wish) alternatives to sports dominated by their early maturing peers.
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 probably is buried in a box in your parents’ basement, but try to remember your soccer or football or track team picture from when you were in eighth grade. Tragically but predictably, most of your peers who were chubby in third grade are nowhere to be seen in the photo. But still it was a pretty motley crew. Some of you weren’t even up to the armpits of your taller teammates. Some guys were shaving. Others had little boys’ voices. Half the girls had reached menarche. Another third were still waiting impatiently for a breast bud.
The precocious and the late bloomers, you were all on the team. But it was pretty clear that those who had matured first generally were the more talented and successful athletes. By the time you were juniors in high school, many of those who matured late had quit the sport or been cut from the team, unable to catch up. Others may have been forced to give up the sport by their parents, who were concerned about the risk of injury when bodies of disparate size collide. A few of the early bloomers may have become depressed, older adolescents who had failed to match the hype and expectations that came when they were a head taller than their grade school teammates.
These natural consequences of biological variation are not small potatoes for the fragile egos of adolescents and preadolescents. The lead article in the November 2018 Pediatrics offers a partial solution for the issue of sports participation in a population with widely discrepant states of maturity (“Biobanding: A New Paradigm for Youth Sports and Training,” Pediatrics. 2018 Nov;142[5]:e20180423). The authors describe a system they call biobanding, in which “the percentage of predicted adult stature attained at the time of observation as the indicator of maturity status” is used to create groups or bands of participants with similar levels of maturity. They argue that this method is easy to use and report and that has been used with some success in Great Britain.
At first blush, biobanding sounds appealing, particularly for large communities. However, as someone who grew up in and practiced in a small town, I’m not sure how successfully it could be scaled down. There have been years when I could easily have disqualified a third of the high school football team were I to take into consideration the size and maturity of the competition they would be facing. But I didn’t. The fading interest in football in Maine has prompted some schools to consider moving to less-than-11-player competition or even to flag football. To some extent, the problem is taking care of itself.
How much tinkering should we be doing with something that is arguably a distorted natural selection process? With thoughtfully crafted rules, diligent supervision, and officiating, most of the issues of safety that one might attribute to discrepancies in maturity can be minimized. There always will be children who become discouraged and quit when they see the handwriting on the wall that reads “those who mature early win.” I’m certainly not wild about parents holding their children out of school to give them a jump on their peers. It can spiral out of control.
A more appealing solution is to do a better job of advertising the many successful late bloomers in professional sports ... and making sure that late-blooming children are given an abundance of active and competitive (if they wish) alternatives to sports dominated by their early maturing peers.
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].
What is an “early and accurate” diagnosis?
For the last few weeks, the eye-grabber at the top of the American Academy of Pediatrics shopAAP email has been “Early and Accurate Diagnosis.” The unstated claim is that a practitioner who subscribes to one of their continuing education products will improve his or her chances of making an early and accurate diagnosis that “Also Cures Missed School, Soccer Practice, and Music Lessons.” The tagline, Early and Accurate Diagnosis, got me ruminating.
What exactly is an accurate diagnosis? And how does one define an early diagnosis? These are not merely questions of semantics. An honest attempt to answer them scratches through the surface of some serious issues facing a primary care physician.
Who are the judges deciding whether a physician’s diagnosis is accurate? Should it be a panel of academic physicians, most of who are specialists and subspecialists, and who are most comfortable seeing patients with array of signs and symptoms that your patient has presented? Or, should it be a collection of your primary care peers working with limited resources miles away from a tertiary care center?
Is there such a thing as a diagnosis that is close enough? How often is it important that your diagnosis is spot on? Is it like a high school algebra problem in which you could get partial credit for showing how you arrived at the not-quite-right-answer? It really makes a difference only when you start acting (or, in some cases, not acting) on your diagnosis.
Let’s be honest. How often have you made the wrong diagnosis and the patient got better with your management plan? Your therapy may have worked for Diagnosis A even though you were targeting Diagnosis B. Or, more likely, the patient was going to get better without any intervention.
Don’t get me wrong. I think a correct diagnosis can be, and often is, extremely important, but it is really the patient who is the judge of whether you got it right. He doesn’t care what you called it. He is happy knowing that he got better and you didn’t hurt him.
Now, what about that “early” piece? Again, the patient might have something to say about this. You may have made the correct diagnosis but because your productivity is limited by a clunky EMR or your appointment desk does a poor job of triage, the patient was forced to wait an unconscionable amount of time to be seen.
A timely diagnosis certainly is important in many situations. But particularly, early in your career, you may not have the experience to make those quick one look and you’ve got it right diagnoses. These are times to come clean and tell the patient that you aren’t sure what they have. Of course, you might want to choose a better phrase than, “I don’t have clue.”
If I had been asked to write the AAP’s tag line, I would have chosen “efficient” instead of early. If you made the correct diagnosis and it was reasonably timely but you ordered a barrage of unnecessary and expensive tests that inconvenienced the patient, you should have done a better job.
Finally, if you make the correct and early diagnosis but deliver it to the patient poorly, your therapy may not work. Again, it boils down to being an artful and 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].
For the last few weeks, the eye-grabber at the top of the American Academy of Pediatrics shopAAP email has been “Early and Accurate Diagnosis.” The unstated claim is that a practitioner who subscribes to one of their continuing education products will improve his or her chances of making an early and accurate diagnosis that “Also Cures Missed School, Soccer Practice, and Music Lessons.” The tagline, Early and Accurate Diagnosis, got me ruminating.
What exactly is an accurate diagnosis? And how does one define an early diagnosis? These are not merely questions of semantics. An honest attempt to answer them scratches through the surface of some serious issues facing a primary care physician.
Who are the judges deciding whether a physician’s diagnosis is accurate? Should it be a panel of academic physicians, most of who are specialists and subspecialists, and who are most comfortable seeing patients with array of signs and symptoms that your patient has presented? Or, should it be a collection of your primary care peers working with limited resources miles away from a tertiary care center?
Is there such a thing as a diagnosis that is close enough? How often is it important that your diagnosis is spot on? Is it like a high school algebra problem in which you could get partial credit for showing how you arrived at the not-quite-right-answer? It really makes a difference only when you start acting (or, in some cases, not acting) on your diagnosis.
Let’s be honest. How often have you made the wrong diagnosis and the patient got better with your management plan? Your therapy may have worked for Diagnosis A even though you were targeting Diagnosis B. Or, more likely, the patient was going to get better without any intervention.
Don’t get me wrong. I think a correct diagnosis can be, and often is, extremely important, but it is really the patient who is the judge of whether you got it right. He doesn’t care what you called it. He is happy knowing that he got better and you didn’t hurt him.
Now, what about that “early” piece? Again, the patient might have something to say about this. You may have made the correct diagnosis but because your productivity is limited by a clunky EMR or your appointment desk does a poor job of triage, the patient was forced to wait an unconscionable amount of time to be seen.
A timely diagnosis certainly is important in many situations. But particularly, early in your career, you may not have the experience to make those quick one look and you’ve got it right diagnoses. These are times to come clean and tell the patient that you aren’t sure what they have. Of course, you might want to choose a better phrase than, “I don’t have clue.”
If I had been asked to write the AAP’s tag line, I would have chosen “efficient” instead of early. If you made the correct diagnosis and it was reasonably timely but you ordered a barrage of unnecessary and expensive tests that inconvenienced the patient, you should have done a better job.
Finally, if you make the correct and early diagnosis but deliver it to the patient poorly, your therapy may not work. Again, it boils down to being an artful and 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].
For the last few weeks, the eye-grabber at the top of the American Academy of Pediatrics shopAAP email has been “Early and Accurate Diagnosis.” The unstated claim is that a practitioner who subscribes to one of their continuing education products will improve his or her chances of making an early and accurate diagnosis that “Also Cures Missed School, Soccer Practice, and Music Lessons.” The tagline, Early and Accurate Diagnosis, got me ruminating.
What exactly is an accurate diagnosis? And how does one define an early diagnosis? These are not merely questions of semantics. An honest attempt to answer them scratches through the surface of some serious issues facing a primary care physician.
Who are the judges deciding whether a physician’s diagnosis is accurate? Should it be a panel of academic physicians, most of who are specialists and subspecialists, and who are most comfortable seeing patients with array of signs and symptoms that your patient has presented? Or, should it be a collection of your primary care peers working with limited resources miles away from a tertiary care center?
Is there such a thing as a diagnosis that is close enough? How often is it important that your diagnosis is spot on? Is it like a high school algebra problem in which you could get partial credit for showing how you arrived at the not-quite-right-answer? It really makes a difference only when you start acting (or, in some cases, not acting) on your diagnosis.
Let’s be honest. How often have you made the wrong diagnosis and the patient got better with your management plan? Your therapy may have worked for Diagnosis A even though you were targeting Diagnosis B. Or, more likely, the patient was going to get better without any intervention.
Don’t get me wrong. I think a correct diagnosis can be, and often is, extremely important, but it is really the patient who is the judge of whether you got it right. He doesn’t care what you called it. He is happy knowing that he got better and you didn’t hurt him.
Now, what about that “early” piece? Again, the patient might have something to say about this. You may have made the correct diagnosis but because your productivity is limited by a clunky EMR or your appointment desk does a poor job of triage, the patient was forced to wait an unconscionable amount of time to be seen.
A timely diagnosis certainly is important in many situations. But particularly, early in your career, you may not have the experience to make those quick one look and you’ve got it right diagnoses. These are times to come clean and tell the patient that you aren’t sure what they have. Of course, you might want to choose a better phrase than, “I don’t have clue.”
If I had been asked to write the AAP’s tag line, I would have chosen “efficient” instead of early. If you made the correct diagnosis and it was reasonably timely but you ordered a barrage of unnecessary and expensive tests that inconvenienced the patient, you should have done a better job.
Finally, if you make the correct and early diagnosis but deliver it to the patient poorly, your therapy may not work. Again, it boils down to being an artful and 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].
How does caring affect the placebo effect?
How thorough are you when you prescribe medication? You check the patient’s list of allergies and current medications. You make sure that the dose is appropriate for the patient’s weight. Hopefully, you spend a minute or 2 describing the most common side effects. You prescribe the correct amount of medication and an appropriate number of refills. If you think you can distill it into one or two sentences, you also explain the medication’s mechanism of action. That is if you understand it yourself.
What about placebos? How often do you believe that your patient has gotten better because of the placebo effect? Do you ever intentionally recommend or prescribe a placebo? Do you share with the patient that there is no current explanation of why the treatment you are recommending should work? Or, do you just play dumb?
Whether you admit to being a frequent prescriber of placebos or not you should take the 20 minutes it will take to read a New York Times article titled “What if the Placebo Effect Isn’t a Trick” (Gary Greenberg, Nov 7, 2018). You will learn a bit about the history of the placebo effect including some recent functional MRI studies that have uncovered consistent brain activity patterns in subjects that respond to placebos.
You will read about some exciting research indicating that certain people with a genomic variant of an enzyme that has been shown to affect the response to painkillers generally have the weakest response to placebo. While in some studies the association between the patient’s response and the level of the enzyme is the reverse, Kathryn Hall, PhD, the molecular biologist overseeing these studies, feels that at this point in her research the fact that there is an association that varies with genotype is a critical finding. She suspects that the placebo effect and the drug operate on the same biochemical highway that includes this enzyme and that “clinician warmth” is particularly effective in patients with a certain genotype.
Ted Kaptchuk, who heads up Harvard Medical School’s Program in Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter and has collaborated with Dr. Hall, hypothesizes “that the placebo effect is a biological response to an act of caring.” Is Dr. Hall’s work the first step in defining that response?
What does all of this new information mean for us as care dispensers? I think it means that caring is important and can make a critical difference if we have chosen a patient with the favorable genome. Of course, how are we to know whether we are working with such a patient? All the caring in the world may not change the outcome if we have selected incorrectly.
And then there is the other side of the practitioner-patient relationship and the definition and quantification of “caring.” Are there practitioners who are so inept and/or devoid of caring that even patients with the most favorable genome are not going to respond to their attempts at dispensing placebos?
Are there some practitioners who are born with a knack for caring? Can it be taught? Do we select for the quality of caring with the Medical College Admission Test (MCAT)? Do we weed out those who obviously don’t have it during their training?
Is caring a finite resource that can be exhausted? Is it affected by sleep deprivation or marital troubles at home? Or hours sitting in front of a computer screen? I suspect I know the answers to some of these questions. But what I do know for sure is that the placebo effect is real and is just another example that practicing medicine is more of an art than a science.
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 thorough are you when you prescribe medication? You check the patient’s list of allergies and current medications. You make sure that the dose is appropriate for the patient’s weight. Hopefully, you spend a minute or 2 describing the most common side effects. You prescribe the correct amount of medication and an appropriate number of refills. If you think you can distill it into one or two sentences, you also explain the medication’s mechanism of action. That is if you understand it yourself.
What about placebos? How often do you believe that your patient has gotten better because of the placebo effect? Do you ever intentionally recommend or prescribe a placebo? Do you share with the patient that there is no current explanation of why the treatment you are recommending should work? Or, do you just play dumb?
Whether you admit to being a frequent prescriber of placebos or not you should take the 20 minutes it will take to read a New York Times article titled “What if the Placebo Effect Isn’t a Trick” (Gary Greenberg, Nov 7, 2018). You will learn a bit about the history of the placebo effect including some recent functional MRI studies that have uncovered consistent brain activity patterns in subjects that respond to placebos.
You will read about some exciting research indicating that certain people with a genomic variant of an enzyme that has been shown to affect the response to painkillers generally have the weakest response to placebo. While in some studies the association between the patient’s response and the level of the enzyme is the reverse, Kathryn Hall, PhD, the molecular biologist overseeing these studies, feels that at this point in her research the fact that there is an association that varies with genotype is a critical finding. She suspects that the placebo effect and the drug operate on the same biochemical highway that includes this enzyme and that “clinician warmth” is particularly effective in patients with a certain genotype.
Ted Kaptchuk, who heads up Harvard Medical School’s Program in Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter and has collaborated with Dr. Hall, hypothesizes “that the placebo effect is a biological response to an act of caring.” Is Dr. Hall’s work the first step in defining that response?
What does all of this new information mean for us as care dispensers? I think it means that caring is important and can make a critical difference if we have chosen a patient with the favorable genome. Of course, how are we to know whether we are working with such a patient? All the caring in the world may not change the outcome if we have selected incorrectly.
And then there is the other side of the practitioner-patient relationship and the definition and quantification of “caring.” Are there practitioners who are so inept and/or devoid of caring that even patients with the most favorable genome are not going to respond to their attempts at dispensing placebos?
Are there some practitioners who are born with a knack for caring? Can it be taught? Do we select for the quality of caring with the Medical College Admission Test (MCAT)? Do we weed out those who obviously don’t have it during their training?
Is caring a finite resource that can be exhausted? Is it affected by sleep deprivation or marital troubles at home? Or hours sitting in front of a computer screen? I suspect I know the answers to some of these questions. But what I do know for sure is that the placebo effect is real and is just another example that practicing medicine is more of an art than a science.
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 thorough are you when you prescribe medication? You check the patient’s list of allergies and current medications. You make sure that the dose is appropriate for the patient’s weight. Hopefully, you spend a minute or 2 describing the most common side effects. You prescribe the correct amount of medication and an appropriate number of refills. If you think you can distill it into one or two sentences, you also explain the medication’s mechanism of action. That is if you understand it yourself.
What about placebos? How often do you believe that your patient has gotten better because of the placebo effect? Do you ever intentionally recommend or prescribe a placebo? Do you share with the patient that there is no current explanation of why the treatment you are recommending should work? Or, do you just play dumb?
Whether you admit to being a frequent prescriber of placebos or not you should take the 20 minutes it will take to read a New York Times article titled “What if the Placebo Effect Isn’t a Trick” (Gary Greenberg, Nov 7, 2018). You will learn a bit about the history of the placebo effect including some recent functional MRI studies that have uncovered consistent brain activity patterns in subjects that respond to placebos.
You will read about some exciting research indicating that certain people with a genomic variant of an enzyme that has been shown to affect the response to painkillers generally have the weakest response to placebo. While in some studies the association between the patient’s response and the level of the enzyme is the reverse, Kathryn Hall, PhD, the molecular biologist overseeing these studies, feels that at this point in her research the fact that there is an association that varies with genotype is a critical finding. She suspects that the placebo effect and the drug operate on the same biochemical highway that includes this enzyme and that “clinician warmth” is particularly effective in patients with a certain genotype.
Ted Kaptchuk, who heads up Harvard Medical School’s Program in Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter and has collaborated with Dr. Hall, hypothesizes “that the placebo effect is a biological response to an act of caring.” Is Dr. Hall’s work the first step in defining that response?
What does all of this new information mean for us as care dispensers? I think it means that caring is important and can make a critical difference if we have chosen a patient with the favorable genome. Of course, how are we to know whether we are working with such a patient? All the caring in the world may not change the outcome if we have selected incorrectly.
And then there is the other side of the practitioner-patient relationship and the definition and quantification of “caring.” Are there practitioners who are so inept and/or devoid of caring that even patients with the most favorable genome are not going to respond to their attempts at dispensing placebos?
Are there some practitioners who are born with a knack for caring? Can it be taught? Do we select for the quality of caring with the Medical College Admission Test (MCAT)? Do we weed out those who obviously don’t have it during their training?
Is caring a finite resource that can be exhausted? Is it affected by sleep deprivation or marital troubles at home? Or hours sitting in front of a computer screen? I suspect I know the answers to some of these questions. But what I do know for sure is that the placebo effect is real and is just another example that practicing medicine is more of an art than a science.
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].
Free advice seems to be history
The 2 short years in the cocoon of residency ended, and I was flying solo on the picturesque but sparsely populated coast of Maine. My colleagues and I were fulfilling our 2-year military obligations at the Brunswick Naval Air Station, hundreds of miles from the support systems our tertiary care centers had provided. As the only pediatrician on the dispensary staff, I felt particularly vulnerable.
At least I was in the same time zone in which I had trained. I still knew most of the beeper numbers or could remember the extensions and the first names of the department secretaries. Usually within minutes, the familiar and calming voice of one of my favorite subspecialists or pediatric mentors would set me on the path to the correct diagnosis and management plan. Of course, I could have asked one of the pediatricians in town for advice, and eventually, I did. But, in the beginning, I was embarrassed to reveal my soft underbelly to the townies.
Within a few months, I was moonlighting for a local pediatrician and, after 2 years, I joined him as a partner. However, it took another several years to wean myself off my dependency on the subspecialists at the big-city medical center where I had trained. To some extent, this was because in the 1970s and 1980s, Maine had few pediatric subspecialists.
Eventually, I developed my own list of favorite local consultants. While the quality of advice was the prime determinant in my choice of a consultant, availability was a close second. How easy was it to get the specialist on the phone? If the clinical situation was not terribly time sensitive and I knew the consultant always was painfully overbooked, I would ask my question in a short typed note, and even include a S.A.S.E. (self-addressed stamped envelope). This – of course – was before email had been invented.
How likely was the consultant going to provide the answer I wanted to hear? If I thought the patient needed P-E (pressure equalizer) tubes, I could choose any ENT specialist. If, on the other hand, I felt that watching and waiting was the better option, I would choose the physician I knew was least likely to advise surgery.
I am unaware that any of the physicians I consulted ever charged the patient for my phone calls or notes. In some cases, their reward came in the opportunity to perform surgery. I rarely received small gifts during the holidays from consultants who were trying to build their practices. And I never gave tokens of appreciation to consultants or their staff to secure their timely response to my pleas for help. However, I always included a personal thank-you note with the self-designed holiday cards I sent to my favorites. And when a consultant had bailed me out of a particularly challenging situation, I often sent a handwritten note in follow-up.
But, for me, the care and grooming of a good stable of consultants began with acknowledging that their time was at least as valuable as mine. The more carefully I crafted my question and the more complete the history I could provide, the more efficiently the consultant could provide me with the answer I needed.
Regrettably, but predictably, those days of free advice are fading away. The new revision of the CPT codes includes at least twelve codes for “interprofessional consultation.” Time is – and has always been – money. As everyone’s time is increasingly being gobbled up by electronic advancements that promised to save us time, no one seems to have time to make or answer that call that begins, “Can I ask you a quick question about a patient?”
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 2 short years in the cocoon of residency ended, and I was flying solo on the picturesque but sparsely populated coast of Maine. My colleagues and I were fulfilling our 2-year military obligations at the Brunswick Naval Air Station, hundreds of miles from the support systems our tertiary care centers had provided. As the only pediatrician on the dispensary staff, I felt particularly vulnerable.
At least I was in the same time zone in which I had trained. I still knew most of the beeper numbers or could remember the extensions and the first names of the department secretaries. Usually within minutes, the familiar and calming voice of one of my favorite subspecialists or pediatric mentors would set me on the path to the correct diagnosis and management plan. Of course, I could have asked one of the pediatricians in town for advice, and eventually, I did. But, in the beginning, I was embarrassed to reveal my soft underbelly to the townies.
Within a few months, I was moonlighting for a local pediatrician and, after 2 years, I joined him as a partner. However, it took another several years to wean myself off my dependency on the subspecialists at the big-city medical center where I had trained. To some extent, this was because in the 1970s and 1980s, Maine had few pediatric subspecialists.
Eventually, I developed my own list of favorite local consultants. While the quality of advice was the prime determinant in my choice of a consultant, availability was a close second. How easy was it to get the specialist on the phone? If the clinical situation was not terribly time sensitive and I knew the consultant always was painfully overbooked, I would ask my question in a short typed note, and even include a S.A.S.E. (self-addressed stamped envelope). This – of course – was before email had been invented.
How likely was the consultant going to provide the answer I wanted to hear? If I thought the patient needed P-E (pressure equalizer) tubes, I could choose any ENT specialist. If, on the other hand, I felt that watching and waiting was the better option, I would choose the physician I knew was least likely to advise surgery.
I am unaware that any of the physicians I consulted ever charged the patient for my phone calls or notes. In some cases, their reward came in the opportunity to perform surgery. I rarely received small gifts during the holidays from consultants who were trying to build their practices. And I never gave tokens of appreciation to consultants or their staff to secure their timely response to my pleas for help. However, I always included a personal thank-you note with the self-designed holiday cards I sent to my favorites. And when a consultant had bailed me out of a particularly challenging situation, I often sent a handwritten note in follow-up.
But, for me, the care and grooming of a good stable of consultants began with acknowledging that their time was at least as valuable as mine. The more carefully I crafted my question and the more complete the history I could provide, the more efficiently the consultant could provide me with the answer I needed.
Regrettably, but predictably, those days of free advice are fading away. The new revision of the CPT codes includes at least twelve codes for “interprofessional consultation.” Time is – and has always been – money. As everyone’s time is increasingly being gobbled up by electronic advancements that promised to save us time, no one seems to have time to make or answer that call that begins, “Can I ask you a quick question about a patient?”
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 2 short years in the cocoon of residency ended, and I was flying solo on the picturesque but sparsely populated coast of Maine. My colleagues and I were fulfilling our 2-year military obligations at the Brunswick Naval Air Station, hundreds of miles from the support systems our tertiary care centers had provided. As the only pediatrician on the dispensary staff, I felt particularly vulnerable.
At least I was in the same time zone in which I had trained. I still knew most of the beeper numbers or could remember the extensions and the first names of the department secretaries. Usually within minutes, the familiar and calming voice of one of my favorite subspecialists or pediatric mentors would set me on the path to the correct diagnosis and management plan. Of course, I could have asked one of the pediatricians in town for advice, and eventually, I did. But, in the beginning, I was embarrassed to reveal my soft underbelly to the townies.
Within a few months, I was moonlighting for a local pediatrician and, after 2 years, I joined him as a partner. However, it took another several years to wean myself off my dependency on the subspecialists at the big-city medical center where I had trained. To some extent, this was because in the 1970s and 1980s, Maine had few pediatric subspecialists.
Eventually, I developed my own list of favorite local consultants. While the quality of advice was the prime determinant in my choice of a consultant, availability was a close second. How easy was it to get the specialist on the phone? If the clinical situation was not terribly time sensitive and I knew the consultant always was painfully overbooked, I would ask my question in a short typed note, and even include a S.A.S.E. (self-addressed stamped envelope). This – of course – was before email had been invented.
How likely was the consultant going to provide the answer I wanted to hear? If I thought the patient needed P-E (pressure equalizer) tubes, I could choose any ENT specialist. If, on the other hand, I felt that watching and waiting was the better option, I would choose the physician I knew was least likely to advise surgery.
I am unaware that any of the physicians I consulted ever charged the patient for my phone calls or notes. In some cases, their reward came in the opportunity to perform surgery. I rarely received small gifts during the holidays from consultants who were trying to build their practices. And I never gave tokens of appreciation to consultants or their staff to secure their timely response to my pleas for help. However, I always included a personal thank-you note with the self-designed holiday cards I sent to my favorites. And when a consultant had bailed me out of a particularly challenging situation, I often sent a handwritten note in follow-up.
But, for me, the care and grooming of a good stable of consultants began with acknowledging that their time was at least as valuable as mine. The more carefully I crafted my question and the more complete the history I could provide, the more efficiently the consultant could provide me with the answer I needed.
Regrettably, but predictably, those days of free advice are fading away. The new revision of the CPT codes includes at least twelve codes for “interprofessional consultation.” Time is – and has always been – money. As everyone’s time is increasingly being gobbled up by electronic advancements that promised to save us time, no one seems to have time to make or answer that call that begins, “Can I ask you a quick question about a patient?”
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Are you an optimist or pessimist?
“I’m fine. How are your kids?”
“They’re doing great, but we miss you. It hasn’t been the same at that group since you retired.”
I thanked her for her kind words. But the truth is that there were certainly physicians remaining at that practice who were at least as skillful and probably more caring than I had been. However, they were being increasingly challenged by an organization that struggled with how to be customer friendly and patient centered although it claimed to be both.
It must have been 8 years since I first met this young woman. She had just delivered her first child and was finishing her last year of family practice residency. In the nearly a decade since I had last spoken to her, she had worked in a couple primary care practices and was now the administrator of a rehabilitation facility. She described the all too common scenario of spending hours at home trying to complete her charting when she was doing primary care. Now she spends a good chunk of her time on the phone arguing with insurance companies trying to get coverage for her aging patients.
As she told me how frustrated she was with her current job and how pessimistic she was about the future of health care in this country, I realized that it wasn’t me that she really missed. I, and my old practice, are just examples of what primary care used to be.
As I walked home from the grocery store after our encounter, I wondered how deeply I shared her pessimism. We mostly talked about how bad things have gotten now. But we didn’t talk much about where we thought the state of health care in the Unite States was headed.
Are you an optimist or a pessimist? To what degree will your answer to be colored by your career trajectory? Would you tell a young person that you think our health care system is so messed up that you would discourage them from becoming a physician because the work environment is becoming increasingly toxic?
Or would you acknowledge that health care in this country is going through a difficult time, but the potential reward of knowing that every day you have helped, or at least tried to help, someone is worth riding out storm?
For a moment, step back from your narrow focus as a health care provider. What would you tell a 40-something father of two children who is worried about what health care is going to look like when he is as old as his parents are now?
If you have come down on the positive side of this coin, where are the solutions going to come from? Is technology going to come up with the answers? Is a nationwide electronic medical record system that allows all providers to communicate seamlessly with each other a realistic possibility? Will physicians and patients eventually adapt to and accept a new reality in which health care providers are primarily technicians following algorithms generated by a team of scientists and payers?
Or will we continue to muddle along and hope that our system will get over the hiccups and arrive at some political solution? I am eager to hear what you think. ... and feel.
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 fine. How are your kids?”
“They’re doing great, but we miss you. It hasn’t been the same at that group since you retired.”
I thanked her for her kind words. But the truth is that there were certainly physicians remaining at that practice who were at least as skillful and probably more caring than I had been. However, they were being increasingly challenged by an organization that struggled with how to be customer friendly and patient centered although it claimed to be both.
It must have been 8 years since I first met this young woman. She had just delivered her first child and was finishing her last year of family practice residency. In the nearly a decade since I had last spoken to her, she had worked in a couple primary care practices and was now the administrator of a rehabilitation facility. She described the all too common scenario of spending hours at home trying to complete her charting when she was doing primary care. Now she spends a good chunk of her time on the phone arguing with insurance companies trying to get coverage for her aging patients.
As she told me how frustrated she was with her current job and how pessimistic she was about the future of health care in this country, I realized that it wasn’t me that she really missed. I, and my old practice, are just examples of what primary care used to be.
As I walked home from the grocery store after our encounter, I wondered how deeply I shared her pessimism. We mostly talked about how bad things have gotten now. But we didn’t talk much about where we thought the state of health care in the Unite States was headed.
Are you an optimist or a pessimist? To what degree will your answer to be colored by your career trajectory? Would you tell a young person that you think our health care system is so messed up that you would discourage them from becoming a physician because the work environment is becoming increasingly toxic?
Or would you acknowledge that health care in this country is going through a difficult time, but the potential reward of knowing that every day you have helped, or at least tried to help, someone is worth riding out storm?
For a moment, step back from your narrow focus as a health care provider. What would you tell a 40-something father of two children who is worried about what health care is going to look like when he is as old as his parents are now?
If you have come down on the positive side of this coin, where are the solutions going to come from? Is technology going to come up with the answers? Is a nationwide electronic medical record system that allows all providers to communicate seamlessly with each other a realistic possibility? Will physicians and patients eventually adapt to and accept a new reality in which health care providers are primarily technicians following algorithms generated by a team of scientists and payers?
Or will we continue to muddle along and hope that our system will get over the hiccups and arrive at some political solution? I am eager to hear what you think. ... and feel.
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 fine. How are your kids?”
“They’re doing great, but we miss you. It hasn’t been the same at that group since you retired.”
I thanked her for her kind words. But the truth is that there were certainly physicians remaining at that practice who were at least as skillful and probably more caring than I had been. However, they were being increasingly challenged by an organization that struggled with how to be customer friendly and patient centered although it claimed to be both.
It must have been 8 years since I first met this young woman. She had just delivered her first child and was finishing her last year of family practice residency. In the nearly a decade since I had last spoken to her, she had worked in a couple primary care practices and was now the administrator of a rehabilitation facility. She described the all too common scenario of spending hours at home trying to complete her charting when she was doing primary care. Now she spends a good chunk of her time on the phone arguing with insurance companies trying to get coverage for her aging patients.
As she told me how frustrated she was with her current job and how pessimistic she was about the future of health care in this country, I realized that it wasn’t me that she really missed. I, and my old practice, are just examples of what primary care used to be.
As I walked home from the grocery store after our encounter, I wondered how deeply I shared her pessimism. We mostly talked about how bad things have gotten now. But we didn’t talk much about where we thought the state of health care in the Unite States was headed.
Are you an optimist or a pessimist? To what degree will your answer to be colored by your career trajectory? Would you tell a young person that you think our health care system is so messed up that you would discourage them from becoming a physician because the work environment is becoming increasingly toxic?
Or would you acknowledge that health care in this country is going through a difficult time, but the potential reward of knowing that every day you have helped, or at least tried to help, someone is worth riding out storm?
For a moment, step back from your narrow focus as a health care provider. What would you tell a 40-something father of two children who is worried about what health care is going to look like when he is as old as his parents are now?
If you have come down on the positive side of this coin, where are the solutions going to come from? Is technology going to come up with the answers? Is a nationwide electronic medical record system that allows all providers to communicate seamlessly with each other a realistic possibility? Will physicians and patients eventually adapt to and accept a new reality in which health care providers are primarily technicians following algorithms generated by a team of scientists and payers?
Or will we continue to muddle along and hope that our system will get over the hiccups and arrive at some political solution? I am eager to hear what you think. ... and feel.
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].
Did I really say that?
Unless you decide to start a second career as an expert witness, giving a deposition is a challenge you should avoid at all costs. I have given a few depositions myself, as both a defendant and a witness, and I have reviewed a dozen or more as a consultant for a local law firm. It is an unnatural and artificial format for transferring information. You will survive the depositions rigid and arbitrary rules only by listening to and following your lawyer’s coaching both before and during the deposition. Hopefully you never will be deposed. However,
First, in a deposition every word you utter is recorded. There are no second chances to edit or clarify what you have said. Your words must be carefully chosen. Several times each year I encounter the parent of a former patient in the grocery store who quotes to me some advice they claim I gave them 2 or 3 decades ago. Although I can imagine that I might have voiced the message they are remembering, sometimes I have to cringe at the bluntness and the crude choice of words they are attributing to me. Obviously, I got away with my fast and loose handling of the English language most of the time and am flattered that it was memorable. But I wonder how often I offended a family with my shoot-from-the-hip advice.
In a similar vein, I found that one of the benefits of having medical students shadow me around the office was that their presence forced me to listen to myself. Did I really say that? How sloppy had I gotten in my explanations to parents and patients? Having another pair of ears in the office can be like having a court stenographer at your deposition.
The situation can be particularly insidious when a parent asks what you take to be a rhetorical question or more likely makes a statement that is incorrect, but you fail to correct it because it is off topic and you are in a hurry to get to the next exam room. If in a deposition the plaintiff’s lawyer prefaces a question with “We all know that sugar makes children hyper,” before you leap over his preface and give your answer you should respond that you are unaware of any scientific evidence that supports his assertion. But if a parent offhandedly mentions that his child was on a “sugar high” you might not take the time to disagree because the parent’s observation had no significance to the history he was relating. However, the parent could interpret from your silence that you believe sugar causes hyperactivity.
Of course the volume of old wives tales, urban legends, and chat room myths that float by you in the office every day makes it impractical to counter every bit of misinformation we hear. But the rules of deposition should remind us that our failure to disagree might sometimes be interpreted as an agreement.
One of the more difficult concepts challenging the deposed physician is avoiding the too much information trap. Your answers in a deposition should be simple and to the point. Physicians are trained to teach. How often are we clouding the answers the patients want by trying to impress them with our breadth of knowledge and command of scientific language?
Although you may have a scribe helping you craft your electronic medical records, hopefully he or she won’t be a court stenographer. And even more fortunately, most patients and parents aren’t listening to every word you say. But from time to time, it helps to pretend you are being deposed. Or at least take a moment to listen to what you have been saying.
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].
Unless you decide to start a second career as an expert witness, giving a deposition is a challenge you should avoid at all costs. I have given a few depositions myself, as both a defendant and a witness, and I have reviewed a dozen or more as a consultant for a local law firm. It is an unnatural and artificial format for transferring information. You will survive the depositions rigid and arbitrary rules only by listening to and following your lawyer’s coaching both before and during the deposition. Hopefully you never will be deposed. However,
First, in a deposition every word you utter is recorded. There are no second chances to edit or clarify what you have said. Your words must be carefully chosen. Several times each year I encounter the parent of a former patient in the grocery store who quotes to me some advice they claim I gave them 2 or 3 decades ago. Although I can imagine that I might have voiced the message they are remembering, sometimes I have to cringe at the bluntness and the crude choice of words they are attributing to me. Obviously, I got away with my fast and loose handling of the English language most of the time and am flattered that it was memorable. But I wonder how often I offended a family with my shoot-from-the-hip advice.
In a similar vein, I found that one of the benefits of having medical students shadow me around the office was that their presence forced me to listen to myself. Did I really say that? How sloppy had I gotten in my explanations to parents and patients? Having another pair of ears in the office can be like having a court stenographer at your deposition.
The situation can be particularly insidious when a parent asks what you take to be a rhetorical question or more likely makes a statement that is incorrect, but you fail to correct it because it is off topic and you are in a hurry to get to the next exam room. If in a deposition the plaintiff’s lawyer prefaces a question with “We all know that sugar makes children hyper,” before you leap over his preface and give your answer you should respond that you are unaware of any scientific evidence that supports his assertion. But if a parent offhandedly mentions that his child was on a “sugar high” you might not take the time to disagree because the parent’s observation had no significance to the history he was relating. However, the parent could interpret from your silence that you believe sugar causes hyperactivity.
Of course the volume of old wives tales, urban legends, and chat room myths that float by you in the office every day makes it impractical to counter every bit of misinformation we hear. But the rules of deposition should remind us that our failure to disagree might sometimes be interpreted as an agreement.
One of the more difficult concepts challenging the deposed physician is avoiding the too much information trap. Your answers in a deposition should be simple and to the point. Physicians are trained to teach. How often are we clouding the answers the patients want by trying to impress them with our breadth of knowledge and command of scientific language?
Although you may have a scribe helping you craft your electronic medical records, hopefully he or she won’t be a court stenographer. And even more fortunately, most patients and parents aren’t listening to every word you say. But from time to time, it helps to pretend you are being deposed. Or at least take a moment to listen to what you have been saying.
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].
Unless you decide to start a second career as an expert witness, giving a deposition is a challenge you should avoid at all costs. I have given a few depositions myself, as both a defendant and a witness, and I have reviewed a dozen or more as a consultant for a local law firm. It is an unnatural and artificial format for transferring information. You will survive the depositions rigid and arbitrary rules only by listening to and following your lawyer’s coaching both before and during the deposition. Hopefully you never will be deposed. However,
First, in a deposition every word you utter is recorded. There are no second chances to edit or clarify what you have said. Your words must be carefully chosen. Several times each year I encounter the parent of a former patient in the grocery store who quotes to me some advice they claim I gave them 2 or 3 decades ago. Although I can imagine that I might have voiced the message they are remembering, sometimes I have to cringe at the bluntness and the crude choice of words they are attributing to me. Obviously, I got away with my fast and loose handling of the English language most of the time and am flattered that it was memorable. But I wonder how often I offended a family with my shoot-from-the-hip advice.
In a similar vein, I found that one of the benefits of having medical students shadow me around the office was that their presence forced me to listen to myself. Did I really say that? How sloppy had I gotten in my explanations to parents and patients? Having another pair of ears in the office can be like having a court stenographer at your deposition.
The situation can be particularly insidious when a parent asks what you take to be a rhetorical question or more likely makes a statement that is incorrect, but you fail to correct it because it is off topic and you are in a hurry to get to the next exam room. If in a deposition the plaintiff’s lawyer prefaces a question with “We all know that sugar makes children hyper,” before you leap over his preface and give your answer you should respond that you are unaware of any scientific evidence that supports his assertion. But if a parent offhandedly mentions that his child was on a “sugar high” you might not take the time to disagree because the parent’s observation had no significance to the history he was relating. However, the parent could interpret from your silence that you believe sugar causes hyperactivity.
Of course the volume of old wives tales, urban legends, and chat room myths that float by you in the office every day makes it impractical to counter every bit of misinformation we hear. But the rules of deposition should remind us that our failure to disagree might sometimes be interpreted as an agreement.
One of the more difficult concepts challenging the deposed physician is avoiding the too much information trap. Your answers in a deposition should be simple and to the point. Physicians are trained to teach. How often are we clouding the answers the patients want by trying to impress them with our breadth of knowledge and command of scientific language?
Although you may have a scribe helping you craft your electronic medical records, hopefully he or she won’t be a court stenographer. And even more fortunately, most patients and parents aren’t listening to every word you say. But from time to time, it helps to pretend you are being deposed. Or at least take a moment to listen to what you have been saying.
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].
Chasing the millennial market
I’m not sure why I read the “Letter from the President” in the American Academy of Pediatrics’ AAP News every month. I guess it is out of curiosity about how far the guild to which I belong is drifting from where I think it should be going.
In her August 2018 letter, Colleen A. Kraft, MD, lays out the challenges pediatricians will be facing in the next several decades as the “era of health care consumerism” engulfs us, a change that she suggests will mean “redefining the patient/provider relationship.” As an example, she observes that millennial parents who want “personalized care when and where they want it” have become our “new target market.” Dr. Kraft goes on to suggest that telemedicine may provide a way to reconcile the millennials’ two seemingly incompatible demands. However, she notes that only “15% of pediatricians report using telehealth technologies to provide patient care.” Dr. Kraft recommends that to survive the rising waters of health consumerism more of us should consider climbing onto the telemedicine ship.
There is no question that millennials are aging into the childbearing and child-rearing phases of their lives. They have become the major consumers of pediatric services. Is Dr. Kraft correct that we must change how we practice pediatrics to accommodate the I-want-it-now-delivered-to-my-inbox mentality of the millennials? If we fail to adjust, will we be committing financial suicide?
She makes a valid point. If your practice isn’t providing evening and weekend hours, if your patients’ calls aren’t being answered in a timely manner, and if your receptionists are more about deflecting calls than helping patients get their questions answered, you are running the risk of choking off your income stream to an unsustainable trickle.
But how far should we chase that “target market” made up of people who believe that they can receive personalized care without putting a wrinkle in their device-driven lives? It may be that they have never experienced the benefits of real personalized service from the same person encounter after encounter. I’m convinced that if you provide quality care that is reasonably available, enough patients will stick with you to make your practice sustainable. You will lose some impatient patients to walk-in-quick-care operations, but if you are giving good personalized care, many will return to the quality you are offering. But if you aren’t willing to consider improving your availability, even being the most personable provider in town isn’t going to keep you afloat.
Now to the claim that telemedicine may hold the answer to surviving consumerism. I think we must move cautiously. The fact that only 15% of us aren’t climbing on board doesn’t mean we are all Luddites. It is very likely that many of us are still feeling the sting of investing large amounts of money and time to computerize our health records and seeing little benefit. Telemedicine means lots of things to lots of people. It won’t hurt to keep an open mind and listen as technology evolves. But if you had it to do all over again, wouldn’t you have taken more time and given more thought into signing on for your electronic medical records system?
Finally, let’s remember millennials will be followed by another generation. Although some “experts” suggest that the post-millennials will be just more of the same, I’m not so sure. Millennials and their expectations have become fodder for comedians, even from within their own cohort. The post-millennials may surprise us and provide a refreshing breath of retro and a market that is much easier to reconcile with the realities of good patient care.
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 not sure why I read the “Letter from the President” in the American Academy of Pediatrics’ AAP News every month. I guess it is out of curiosity about how far the guild to which I belong is drifting from where I think it should be going.
In her August 2018 letter, Colleen A. Kraft, MD, lays out the challenges pediatricians will be facing in the next several decades as the “era of health care consumerism” engulfs us, a change that she suggests will mean “redefining the patient/provider relationship.” As an example, she observes that millennial parents who want “personalized care when and where they want it” have become our “new target market.” Dr. Kraft goes on to suggest that telemedicine may provide a way to reconcile the millennials’ two seemingly incompatible demands. However, she notes that only “15% of pediatricians report using telehealth technologies to provide patient care.” Dr. Kraft recommends that to survive the rising waters of health consumerism more of us should consider climbing onto the telemedicine ship.
There is no question that millennials are aging into the childbearing and child-rearing phases of their lives. They have become the major consumers of pediatric services. Is Dr. Kraft correct that we must change how we practice pediatrics to accommodate the I-want-it-now-delivered-to-my-inbox mentality of the millennials? If we fail to adjust, will we be committing financial suicide?
She makes a valid point. If your practice isn’t providing evening and weekend hours, if your patients’ calls aren’t being answered in a timely manner, and if your receptionists are more about deflecting calls than helping patients get their questions answered, you are running the risk of choking off your income stream to an unsustainable trickle.
But how far should we chase that “target market” made up of people who believe that they can receive personalized care without putting a wrinkle in their device-driven lives? It may be that they have never experienced the benefits of real personalized service from the same person encounter after encounter. I’m convinced that if you provide quality care that is reasonably available, enough patients will stick with you to make your practice sustainable. You will lose some impatient patients to walk-in-quick-care operations, but if you are giving good personalized care, many will return to the quality you are offering. But if you aren’t willing to consider improving your availability, even being the most personable provider in town isn’t going to keep you afloat.
Now to the claim that telemedicine may hold the answer to surviving consumerism. I think we must move cautiously. The fact that only 15% of us aren’t climbing on board doesn’t mean we are all Luddites. It is very likely that many of us are still feeling the sting of investing large amounts of money and time to computerize our health records and seeing little benefit. Telemedicine means lots of things to lots of people. It won’t hurt to keep an open mind and listen as technology evolves. But if you had it to do all over again, wouldn’t you have taken more time and given more thought into signing on for your electronic medical records system?
Finally, let’s remember millennials will be followed by another generation. Although some “experts” suggest that the post-millennials will be just more of the same, I’m not so sure. Millennials and their expectations have become fodder for comedians, even from within their own cohort. The post-millennials may surprise us and provide a refreshing breath of retro and a market that is much easier to reconcile with the realities of good patient care.
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 not sure why I read the “Letter from the President” in the American Academy of Pediatrics’ AAP News every month. I guess it is out of curiosity about how far the guild to which I belong is drifting from where I think it should be going.
In her August 2018 letter, Colleen A. Kraft, MD, lays out the challenges pediatricians will be facing in the next several decades as the “era of health care consumerism” engulfs us, a change that she suggests will mean “redefining the patient/provider relationship.” As an example, she observes that millennial parents who want “personalized care when and where they want it” have become our “new target market.” Dr. Kraft goes on to suggest that telemedicine may provide a way to reconcile the millennials’ two seemingly incompatible demands. However, she notes that only “15% of pediatricians report using telehealth technologies to provide patient care.” Dr. Kraft recommends that to survive the rising waters of health consumerism more of us should consider climbing onto the telemedicine ship.
There is no question that millennials are aging into the childbearing and child-rearing phases of their lives. They have become the major consumers of pediatric services. Is Dr. Kraft correct that we must change how we practice pediatrics to accommodate the I-want-it-now-delivered-to-my-inbox mentality of the millennials? If we fail to adjust, will we be committing financial suicide?
She makes a valid point. If your practice isn’t providing evening and weekend hours, if your patients’ calls aren’t being answered in a timely manner, and if your receptionists are more about deflecting calls than helping patients get their questions answered, you are running the risk of choking off your income stream to an unsustainable trickle.
But how far should we chase that “target market” made up of people who believe that they can receive personalized care without putting a wrinkle in their device-driven lives? It may be that they have never experienced the benefits of real personalized service from the same person encounter after encounter. I’m convinced that if you provide quality care that is reasonably available, enough patients will stick with you to make your practice sustainable. You will lose some impatient patients to walk-in-quick-care operations, but if you are giving good personalized care, many will return to the quality you are offering. But if you aren’t willing to consider improving your availability, even being the most personable provider in town isn’t going to keep you afloat.
Now to the claim that telemedicine may hold the answer to surviving consumerism. I think we must move cautiously. The fact that only 15% of us aren’t climbing on board doesn’t mean we are all Luddites. It is very likely that many of us are still feeling the sting of investing large amounts of money and time to computerize our health records and seeing little benefit. Telemedicine means lots of things to lots of people. It won’t hurt to keep an open mind and listen as technology evolves. But if you had it to do all over again, wouldn’t you have taken more time and given more thought into signing on for your electronic medical records system?
Finally, let’s remember millennials will be followed by another generation. Although some “experts” suggest that the post-millennials will be just more of the same, I’m not so sure. Millennials and their expectations have become fodder for comedians, even from within their own cohort. The post-millennials may surprise us and provide a refreshing breath of retro and a market that is much easier to reconcile with the realities of good patient care.
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 devil is in the headlines
“Breast Milk From Bottle May Not Be As Beneficial As Feeding Directly From The Breast, Researchers Say.” This was the headline on the AAP Daily Briefing that was sent to American Academy of Pediatrics members on Sept 25, 2018.
I suspect that this finding doesn’t surprise you. I can imagine a dozen factors that could make bottled breast milk less advantageous for a baby than milk received directly from the mother’s breast. Antibodies might adhere to the glass surface. A few degrees above or below body temperature could interfere with gastric emptying. Or a temptation to focus on the level in the bottle and inadvertently overfeed could inflate the baby’s body mass index at 3 months, as was found in the study published online in the September 2018 issue of Pediatrics (“Infant Feeding and Weight Gain: Separating Breast Milk From Breastfeeding and Formula From Food”).
I agree that the title of the actual paper is rather dry; it’s a scientific research paper. But the distillation chosen by the folks at AAP Daily Briefing seems ill advised. They were not alone. CCN-Health chose “Breastfeeding better for babies’ weight gain than pumping, new study says” (Michael Nedelman, Sept. 24, 2018). HealthDay News headlined its story with “Milk straight from breast best for baby’s weight” (Sept. 24, 2018).
The articles themselves were well balanced and accurately described this research based on more than 2,500 Canadian mother-infant dyads. But not everyone – including mothers who are struggling with or considering breastfeeding – reads beyond the headlines. How many realize that “better for babies’ weight gain” means a slower weight gain? For the mother who has found that, for a variety of reasons, pumping is the only way she can provide her baby the benefits of breast milk, what these headlines suggest is another blow to her already fragile sense of self-worth.
This research article is excellent and should be read by all of us who counsel young families. It suggests that one of the contributors to our epidemic of childhood obesity may be that bottle-feeding discourages the infant’s own self-regulation skills. It should prompt us to ask every parent who is bottle-feeding his or her baby – regardless of what is in the bottle – exactly how they decide how much to put in the bottle and how long a feeding takes. Even if we are comfortable with the infant’s weight gain, we should caution parents to be more aware of the baby’s cues that he or she has had enough. Not every baby provides cues that are obvious, and parents may need our coaching in deciding how much to feed. This research paper also suggests that as long as breastfeeding was continued, introduction of solids as early as 5 months was not associated with an unhealthy BMI trajectory.
Unfortunately, the reporting of this research article is another example of the hazards of the explosive growth of the Internet. There really is no reason to keep the results of well-crafted research from the lay public, particularly if they are explained in common sense language. However, this places a burden of responsibility on the editors of websites to consider the damage that can be done by a poorly chosen headline.
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].
“Breast Milk From Bottle May Not Be As Beneficial As Feeding Directly From The Breast, Researchers Say.” This was the headline on the AAP Daily Briefing that was sent to American Academy of Pediatrics members on Sept 25, 2018.
I suspect that this finding doesn’t surprise you. I can imagine a dozen factors that could make bottled breast milk less advantageous for a baby than milk received directly from the mother’s breast. Antibodies might adhere to the glass surface. A few degrees above or below body temperature could interfere with gastric emptying. Or a temptation to focus on the level in the bottle and inadvertently overfeed could inflate the baby’s body mass index at 3 months, as was found in the study published online in the September 2018 issue of Pediatrics (“Infant Feeding and Weight Gain: Separating Breast Milk From Breastfeeding and Formula From Food”).
I agree that the title of the actual paper is rather dry; it’s a scientific research paper. But the distillation chosen by the folks at AAP Daily Briefing seems ill advised. They were not alone. CCN-Health chose “Breastfeeding better for babies’ weight gain than pumping, new study says” (Michael Nedelman, Sept. 24, 2018). HealthDay News headlined its story with “Milk straight from breast best for baby’s weight” (Sept. 24, 2018).
The articles themselves were well balanced and accurately described this research based on more than 2,500 Canadian mother-infant dyads. But not everyone – including mothers who are struggling with or considering breastfeeding – reads beyond the headlines. How many realize that “better for babies’ weight gain” means a slower weight gain? For the mother who has found that, for a variety of reasons, pumping is the only way she can provide her baby the benefits of breast milk, what these headlines suggest is another blow to her already fragile sense of self-worth.
This research article is excellent and should be read by all of us who counsel young families. It suggests that one of the contributors to our epidemic of childhood obesity may be that bottle-feeding discourages the infant’s own self-regulation skills. It should prompt us to ask every parent who is bottle-feeding his or her baby – regardless of what is in the bottle – exactly how they decide how much to put in the bottle and how long a feeding takes. Even if we are comfortable with the infant’s weight gain, we should caution parents to be more aware of the baby’s cues that he or she has had enough. Not every baby provides cues that are obvious, and parents may need our coaching in deciding how much to feed. This research paper also suggests that as long as breastfeeding was continued, introduction of solids as early as 5 months was not associated with an unhealthy BMI trajectory.
Unfortunately, the reporting of this research article is another example of the hazards of the explosive growth of the Internet. There really is no reason to keep the results of well-crafted research from the lay public, particularly if they are explained in common sense language. However, this places a burden of responsibility on the editors of websites to consider the damage that can be done by a poorly chosen headline.
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].
“Breast Milk From Bottle May Not Be As Beneficial As Feeding Directly From The Breast, Researchers Say.” This was the headline on the AAP Daily Briefing that was sent to American Academy of Pediatrics members on Sept 25, 2018.
I suspect that this finding doesn’t surprise you. I can imagine a dozen factors that could make bottled breast milk less advantageous for a baby than milk received directly from the mother’s breast. Antibodies might adhere to the glass surface. A few degrees above or below body temperature could interfere with gastric emptying. Or a temptation to focus on the level in the bottle and inadvertently overfeed could inflate the baby’s body mass index at 3 months, as was found in the study published online in the September 2018 issue of Pediatrics (“Infant Feeding and Weight Gain: Separating Breast Milk From Breastfeeding and Formula From Food”).
I agree that the title of the actual paper is rather dry; it’s a scientific research paper. But the distillation chosen by the folks at AAP Daily Briefing seems ill advised. They were not alone. CCN-Health chose “Breastfeeding better for babies’ weight gain than pumping, new study says” (Michael Nedelman, Sept. 24, 2018). HealthDay News headlined its story with “Milk straight from breast best for baby’s weight” (Sept. 24, 2018).
The articles themselves were well balanced and accurately described this research based on more than 2,500 Canadian mother-infant dyads. But not everyone – including mothers who are struggling with or considering breastfeeding – reads beyond the headlines. How many realize that “better for babies’ weight gain” means a slower weight gain? For the mother who has found that, for a variety of reasons, pumping is the only way she can provide her baby the benefits of breast milk, what these headlines suggest is another blow to her already fragile sense of self-worth.
This research article is excellent and should be read by all of us who counsel young families. It suggests that one of the contributors to our epidemic of childhood obesity may be that bottle-feeding discourages the infant’s own self-regulation skills. It should prompt us to ask every parent who is bottle-feeding his or her baby – regardless of what is in the bottle – exactly how they decide how much to put in the bottle and how long a feeding takes. Even if we are comfortable with the infant’s weight gain, we should caution parents to be more aware of the baby’s cues that he or she has had enough. Not every baby provides cues that are obvious, and parents may need our coaching in deciding how much to feed. This research paper also suggests that as long as breastfeeding was continued, introduction of solids as early as 5 months was not associated with an unhealthy BMI trajectory.
Unfortunately, the reporting of this research article is another example of the hazards of the explosive growth of the Internet. There really is no reason to keep the results of well-crafted research from the lay public, particularly if they are explained in common sense language. However, this places a burden of responsibility on the editors of websites to consider the damage that can be done by a poorly chosen headline.
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].