Medicine In America

This article, while on the surface seems benign in its approach and suggestions, is infuriating and offensive to myself, a physician who specializes in critical care medicine. While I would normally hesitate to generalize and doubt how a hospice nurse has the clinical experience to propose such trite recommendations, her essay opens herself to sharp criticism. Ms Brown’s descriptions of physicians as those “who look at patients primarily as collections of individual problems, rather than very sick individuals” is disappointing because it is so lazy and unsophisticated. If this isn’t insulting enough, her next paragraph is a veiled allegation that physicians are keeping dying patients alive for financial gain. Oh, but her wisdom on this subject is so great that she is able to understand the source of problems she was not even witness to. A patient’s family told her they didn’t appreciate how ill their loved one was, so of course Ms Brown knows it was the callous physicians and nurses too busy to care, that the staff ‘didn’t have time, or wasn’t able to make time’. Any medical student on their first clinical rotation quickly learns how little patients and families retain from clinical discussions, especially in an end of life situation as Ms Brown describes. Her ignorance of this makes me doubt what experience she truly has. Any doctor or nurse who has spent any time in an ICU is familiar with the patient or family who, despite repeated careful discussions, still can not grasp the totality of crushing illness and the prospect of death. In addition to being ignorant of this common occurence, Ms Brown is apparently uninformed about the typical discrepancy of prognostic outlook between physicians and families. True to my experience, it is the physicians and nurses who often project a realistic outlook for a patients clinical course, while the family understandably, for many reasons, will cling to an unreasonably positive prognosis (see JAMA. 2016;315(19):2086-2094. doi:10.1001/jama.2016.5351) . But let us not let reality and evidence get in the way of another pointless care algorithm that reduces nuanced medical care to flow charts, arrows and colored boxes. But of course real descriptions of the good care provided in ICUs is not as provocative as describing greedy doctors grinning at the bedside of dying patients, deaf to their patients suffering cries. It is baseless articles like this that can perpetuate doubt in the well meaning doctors and nurses who labor at the bedside of critically ill patients, some who will live and some who will die. Shame on you Ms Brown.

To Be A Doctor

About a month ago, senior medical students across the country were celebrating Match Day.   This is the day they discover the next step on their path to becoming a physician, when they are ‘matched’ with a residency program in their chosen specialty.  Many will feel relief, believing realization of their goal is now clear.  Complete the journey through their training and they will become the physician they set out to be when they first applied to medical school.  If it were only that easy.   As the college one attends does not determine someone’s intellectual ability, the residency program does not guarantee who will be an excellent doctor.  This led me to think about what actually does make a good physician?  What are the qualities needed, no matter the training or academic pedigree, to be an outstanding doctor in the twenty first century?  

 

Pride. A doctor, or any one for that matter, needs to have pride in what they do.  You have to believe what you are doing is important, that you are doing it well, and when looking back on your work that it is the best you could have done.  For a physician, that will mean it demonstrates thought, caring, and sound medical decision making.  It will mean that at the end of the day you can look back and say that you did everything you knew to do for your patients to the best of your ability. 

 

Humility. While pride is needed, it can become a negative quickly.  Early in my career I recall pride overwhelming me after a series of good patient outcomes I mistakenly attributed to myself.  It was right about the time I could feel myself walk a little taller, buttressed by my unique ‘doctoring’ genius, that I was confronted with a call about a patient of mine not doing well despite my best efforts.  It did not take but a few times for this lesson to quickly sink in, that medicine is a humbling practice.  We can do the right things, follow the correct protocols, consult the appropriate specialists, provide the correct interventions, and yet the patient will still not recover or survive.  It is essential to remember that as a doctor we are working in an unpredictable service, one with great feelings of joy, but with opportunity for great disappointment as most of the outcomes we seek are out of our control.  Humility also teaches us to ask for help, that we do not have all of the answers. The old training message that it is weak to ask for help is misguided.  It is strength that allows the physician to ask his colleagues for their assistance and expertise, and the physician who fails to do this will be also be failing their patients.

 

 

Perspective.  Many may use the term empathy, but I am not sure that empathy serves a physician.  That term implies too strong of a relationship with a patient’s suffering, and that is  a dangerous thing for a doctor as it could negatively impact their decision making.  I choose to think of perspective as a more appropriate characteristic.  We need to remind ourselves, every day, what it is like to be that patient we are seeing at 1015am while we have two pages to return, a drug rep waiting for a signature for samples, and dreading a 1030 phone call to dispute an insurance company’s refusal to allow a PET scan.  That 1015 patient is going to see you today because they need you, and they rescheduled work, or arranged childcare, or had their cousin miss work to drive them to your office, all for these fifteen minutes of your time.  They need your attention, your expertise, and your focus.  All too often we will fail at this, but we have to recall why we do what we do, and who we truly serve. 

 

Curiosity.  Physicians have to be intellectually curious.  We have to want to learn constantly, and that does not end when our training ends.  Medicine is in constant evolution, faster now than ever.  We have to keep up the best we can, and be curious about what we can do better, what treatments serve our patients better, and how to provide the best care possible.  (And this can be done without Maintenance of Certification activities, but that is the topic for another essay.  Don’t even get me started.)

 

Communication.  The ability to communicate is essential to an exceptional physician.  Talking to nurses, letting consultants know specifically what we need from them, asking the right questions of referring physicians.  Most of all we need to learn how to clearly speak with patients, to explain to them what is wrong and what we are going to do to help.  Or those tough times when we have nothing to help, but we need to let them know we are not giving up or have stopped caring. An often forgotten element of communication is listening, probably the most essential part of this exchange.  So much is learned from listening to the patient describe what is wrong, and this is the most essential component of their visit.  If we just let them speak and tell their story we can most often learn why they need us and how we can help.  If we listen to the ICU nurse who has spent the past ten hours with their patient we will gain more knowledge than staring at a screen of lab results and images.   If we listen to a family member we will learn what really has been going on at home that led them to needing our help.

 

Courage.  More than strength, physicians need courage.  Every decision we make is out in the open, exposed in the medical record for all to see.  Now more than ever, those decisions will be examined and criticized.  By the family member who disagrees due to what they read on the internet.  By the insurance company who disagrees with your choice of test, or medication, or procedure.  By another physician, who you have asked for help and may either internally or externally critique the care you have provided.  It takes courage to be able to do this every day, to expose your work to others and be able to stand behind your decisions and defend them to all who question. But this is needed, and what is truly the point of the training we endure.  This is what we are learning during those endless rounds, when we are postcall and exhausted and our consultant is drilling us on why this patient (the sixth one you admitted that night) is short of breath if their chest xray is normal.  This is what we learn when we are drilled with questions during our surgical conferences, being asked to defend every step we took to take the patient to the OR, and then every decision we made during their procedure.  This is what we learn in the ICU, hearing distraught and frustrated family members ask us why we are failing to save their loved one from the horrors of ARDS. 

But it also takes courage to examine our decisions and acknowledge when we could have done better.  This is an essential part of the practice of medicine.  We have to look back and know when different decisions could have been made in the service of our patients.  To learn what we would do next time, who we would ask for help, what test or procedure should have been done earlier.  Mistakes will be made in the care of our patients, and it is the courageous physician who will acknowledge those mistakes, learn from them, to better serve those who will put their trust in us. 

How To Fix The EHR

A continuation of the article I started yesterday, with a list of features needed to fix the Electronic Health Record in the United States. To summarize, the EHR is a tool that could drastically improve healthcare delivery but in its current form is a dangerous embarrassment. Here is another suggestion.

Interoperability. It is amazing to me that in 2019 I can craft a beautiful, detailed note on a complex patient of mine who I need to refer to another specialist, only to then crank up a wheezy fax machine so I can deliver this information. Typically when you ask the question “why” the answer is money, and no doubt this also explains why all EHRs live in their own silo, unable to crossover and communicate with other EHRs. Isn’t the whole point better communication, better distribution of a medical record to create more informed care, and prevent test duplication, etc? This needs to be mandated going forward, as it only seems to be the way to get the EHR companies to make this a reality. I refuse to believe this can not be done, and it is shameful that it has perpetuated for so long.

How To Fix The EHR

This article gained a lot of attention yesterday, summarizing the oft-told problems with the Electronic Health Record (EHR) systems in the US medical system. The article got a lot of press with some horrifying stories of how the EHR has been implicated in the propagation of medical errors, though it seems that physicians were still thrown under the bus as being part of the problem. As expected, examples of the EHR being linked to devastating mistakes included accusations that it was really doctors either pressing the wrong key or not entering the right command. Regardless, my point is that I believe EHRs actually have tremendous potential to improve healthcare, but the way they are currently used and designed is an embarrassing example of the intersection of medicine and technology. What needs to be changed to make EHRs useful? Each day this week I’ll describe something I think, if changed, could make EHRs a tool that helps both patients and physicians.

Training. I’ve used EHRs at several hospitals and in our office practice. Training is, to put it mildly, horrible. You are taught the basics to get into the system, the basics to create a progress note and enter orders, and then you are on your own. There is always a period of time where ‘helpers’ are available, but this is typically only for a week or two, and they usually do not know what physicians really want to know. Once they are gone, you are on your own. And dont even get me started on the ‘Help’ keys or links to instructional videos that are meant to provide on the job assistance as questions arise. Have you ever actually tried to use the ‘Help’ function in an EHR? You typically get some enormous data set indexed with categories that seem like they belong to a different software program entirely, and quickly you realize you’ve been taken for a fool. And the phone number that is the ‘Help Line’ to connect you with a live person? At my institution the physicians call dialing the Help Line the ‘Idiot Test’, because if you dial it looking for assistance, you are the idiot if you think you will get answers. All it gets you is a ticket number to speak with someone in another state or country who really doesn’t understand your problem and will likely suggest checking the if the computer is plugged in, turned on, etc.

Train us better. Teach us how to use it on a daily basis, on the fly, to quickly enter meaningful notes and orders to make our job easier and the patient information helpful. Give us resources that are easily accessible, so after we become comfortable with the basics we can then learn more sophisticated ways to be efficient in the practice of medicine. It always seems like we are using 5% of the EHR product, and only through luck do we occasionally stumble upon previously unknown helpful features. The EPIC videos are often actually good, but finding which one is applicable to your problem can be a nightmare.

Can A Physician Truly Be Objective?

I have recently been working on an article outlining what I believe to be essential characteristics of a physician. One that came to mind the other day was objectivity. Occasionally I am asked to see inmates as patients in our office practice. These visits have a typical routine: the prisoner is escorted by guards through our back entrance and taken directly to an exam room. The guards bring what is usually very scant records regarding the reason for the visit and the patients medical history. What is not part of that record is the reason the patient is in prison. Until this week, that is. Accompanying his medical records was a facesheet with his picture, convicted offense, and term of imprisonment. Without going into detail, this patients crime was horrible in every sense of the word, and one that movies and TV usually describe as one that even fellow prisoners find offensive. I could not unsee this, and as much as I tried to put it out of my mind I found myself thinking about it while I questioned him and examined him. Has anyone else felt this way during an encounter with a patient, and if so how hard has it been to be totally objective when they have such an interaction?

What I Am Thinking About

Thoughts this morning filled with anger and frustration with the medical system in the US. Nothing to see here, keep on moving. Just another physician complaining, right? Well, it is we who are in front of the patient, hearing of the struggle to balance which meds they can afford. It is we who are on the phone arguing with a faceless “peer” about a test or intervention our patient needs but the insurance company will not approve. Why do I so often feel like a sucker in these situations, having fooled myself into thinking I could possibly make a difference or be in charge of my patients’ care? I do it for the same reason I care for any patient who comes to me in need - who else is going to do it? That is what insurance companies, politicians, administrators and their ilk do not understand about what drives physicians, even in the 21st century. We are here to serve those who need us. We are here for those who are vulnerable, who are scared, who are frightened, who are polite, who are angry, who are rude, who are rich, who are poor. That is what I remember when I get too frustrated with ‘the system’. We are here, we will do our best, we will continue to think about them long after the day is done, and we will be back again tomorrow.

My Response To The NEJM

This is a not exactly line-by-line response to this essay in the NEJM.

I am not racist.   I can find evidence that I am not – my career dedicated to caring for all people regardless of color or religion, and my support of all colleagues and trainees.  My mission as a physician is to be humble and respectful toward all of my patients, because that is the mission of all physicians.   I am not racist because I was shaped by a society that listened to the words of Martin Luther King, a society that aims to judge people by the ‘content of their character’, not the color of their skin.  I mean this not as an admission of pride, but as a call to all physicians. 

 

Unfortunately inequities exist in all aspects of any society as large and heterogenous as ours.  To counter these inequities, there has been a dramatic manifestation of structural support built within our society.  So what am I, a pulmonary critical care physician, doing about the overwhelming burden and mortality of ARDS, sepsis, and drug abuse?  How am I confronting the underlying forces that facilitate the suffering of all patients that come to the ICU?   What is necessary is for me to provide respectful care to all patients I encounter, with absolutely no attention to their race, religion, or social background.

 

If I truly want to remain part of the solution, I need to continue to explore the parts of me that drive me to be the best physician possible.  My goal is to serve each patient equally, with the best judgement and care they deserve as an individual, not as a member of a group.    

 

I am never tempted to run in the other direction from the care patients require.  I spend time with patients as their situation demands, whether that is ten minutes with the nonsmoker back for an encouraging CT report about a benign lung nodule, or sixty minutes with the son in the ICU trying to understand what his mother’s diagnosis of anoxic encephalopathy means.  My clinic schedule is based upon why patients need to see me and when, and I then decide interventions based upon their clinical issues.  It is important to recall that the key in medicine is the patient comes first. 

 

It takes courage to practice medicine, to take on the responsibilities of others in need and have the energy to remain focused on what is important and essential in their time of vulnerability.  Fortunately the US health care system is made up of physicians who honor this calling every day, which makes our country a medical destination for patients from all over the world.  These patients from within our country and abroad know that they will receive thoughtful care supported by the latest innovations, with fairness and attention.  Is the US system perfect?  No, not even close.  But that is despite, not because, of the people on the front lines who interact with patients every day.  Our imperfections are seen in the maze of insurance obstacles and administrative redundancies that have metastasized into an almost uncontrollable force working against the relationship between physician and patient.

 

I do not know any physician that has shame in their occupation.  I acknowledge my privilege; that the ability to have reached a position where others depend upon you for their health is a privilege unequaled in almost any other profession.    I commit to a process of continuing to put my patients first, but need to also remember to preserve my own health and energy.    The practice of medicine is physically and emotionally challenging, and doctors need to take care of themselves to avoid the psychological pitfalls of daily patient care.   If physicians are to heal others, we must always remember to heal ourselves.